Well. Unfairlady. Hmm. Lady? Not actually a lady, though, at some point she was striving to be.
Unfair? Maybe. Most probably. Yes.
She's… well, she won't tell anyone how old she is1), and, anyway, time seems to be totally out of joint on the Island, so there's no telling. She's not young anymore, that's certain, quite a few lines and greying hair attest to that. She does keep the wiry, berseker energy of youth at times, maybe fueled by exotic substances, maybe natural.. who knows.
Ok then, brief history? Here you go:
Before coming to the island she was quite the vagrant. Born in Connecticut as Eleanor Rigby, (mother Selena Rigby, 19; father unknown), she was kidnapped at 4 by a man, Melquiades, claiming to be her father.
Melquiades was the chieftain of a gipsy tribe that soon after that fled to Europe. The gipsy name they gave her translates roughly to Unfairlady, name she was worthy of by being a very ugly child. For the next ten years she lived with them (quite happily) and crisscrosed the old continent from Vladivostok to Cadiz, doing as nomads do, and learning the family trade2) At fourteen she was traced down and “rescued” by her mother and returned to live with her. At sixteen she ran away and started working in the local brothel. At nineteen she was the leader of a small local gang, called the RazerRats3). At 25 she was informally leading the organized crime in Connecticut.4).
Later in life, she mellowed a bit and started more legitimate businesses and by the time she got transferred5) to the Island she was quite well off.
At some point she decided it would be nice to become a lady and hired 6)a certain Mr. Higgins to teach her manners and 'posh' English. Mr. Higgins was subsequently fired7), so one might guess it wasn't exactly a success.
So that was before. Then, the Island.. tu-duuum… just happened. As with many contestants, the multitude of lifeforms she spent time as, left some traces. A tabby furpatch on a side of her face, complete with yellow feline eye, for a while, after being a kitty. A certain sluggishness and appetite for less savory sustenance 8), after being a zombie. Short temper after being a midget 9). The usual. But she always snapped back to her original shape, after a while 10)
After a while she absorbed one dose too many of Improbability and became a joker. But a Joker with no 'powers', except the weird dice11) and deck of cards12) that seem to come with the race. Frustrated with this13), she did some research and came to the conclusion that all of it was to blame on her regular intake of sunshine. Now, sunshine14) is a potent brew, triple distilled 15) and tasting and smelling like a long, hot, summer afternoon 16), but besides, it is known for it's anti-improbability . So she decided to forswear the thing17) and see what happens. And, oh boy, things did happen.
First, she became a ghost-thingie, a bad copy of the white lady. Not being able to corporeally interact with anything was quite bad 18). But then she became the Lady of the Lake, or an instance thereof. She spent that incarnation perpetually wet, boggy, marshy, miry, mucky, muddy, quaggy, sloppy, sloughy, soggy, squashy, swampy, waterlogged, clammy, dank, damp, moist, sodden, drippy, drizzly, humid, steamy, sticky, watery. Then, as she thought to herself it couldn't get any worse, she got afflicted with a multiple bodies disorder 19). First of all she was the Wyrd Sisters, prone to unstoppable urges to burst in to verse. Then she became the Fates, spindle and scissors and measuring tape and all. When she came to sharing an eye and a tooth between all three of herself, she drew a line and resumed taking sunshine, as a remedy. It did her a lot of good, for, except for a brief stint as the multiple-limbed, blue Kali (till the sunshine kicked in) she's been pretty much herself, to her great delight 20)21).
All those rather taxing adventures did leave some traces, or maybe it is the underlying Island's improbability asserting itself: she's left with some phantom limbs and even phantom bodies. However, these don't manifest outside of moments of great stress, and then she can't exactly control them, so what she does is mostly trip over them. Useful, hnuh?22)
Description? So you know to spot and avoid her before she buttonholes you about one of her get-rich-quick harebrained schemes? Alright then, here you go: look out for a small, wiry, disheveled female, roughly human, dressed in something indescribable23), carrying a bulging backpack and flashing uncomfortable grins containing more 18 carat gold that would go in three pairs of wedding rings. A triangular face, thin lips, a long thin nose, broken in two places, hmm… what else? Oh, yes, hair. Quite long, matted, graying, sticking out at odd angles from under the hat 24). Hope you're satisfied.
Yes? What, sunshine? Ask her, ask away. She might even give you some to sample, she's almost always carrying some25).