Cal Guidry | Hunter

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✧ Level-Headed
✧ Humorous (Kind of)
✧ Practical

Negatives (At Least 3):
✦ Insensitive
✦ Reserved
✦ Stubborn

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Parents: Rhett Guidry Jr. (Father, deceased) & Lynn Perry (Mother, deceased)
Siblings: William Guidry (Brother, deceased), Nicholas Guidry (Brother, deceased), Alexander Guidry (Brother, 24), Savannah Guidry (Sister, deceased)                                        
Other Family: Rhett Guidry Sr. (Grandfather, deceased) and Angie Fitzsimmons (Grandmother, deceased)
Important Others: N/A
History: Callie Rae Guidry was born into a legacy hunting family. Originally from the Cajun country of Louisiana, it was said that her great-grandfather, Etienne Guidry, relocated to Beaumont, Texas, in the 1930s after saving the love of his life, Daisy Carmichael, from a werewolf attack. The two married young but used their families’ joint funds to purchase a dilapidated Queen Anne Victorian mansion, spending the next decade fixing it up into a proper home. It eventually became the house that Cal, her grandfather, father, and siblings were all raised in, with each generation adding its own additions as they saw fit.

As for Cal, both of her parents were hunters. Her father, Rhett, followed in the footsteps of Etienne and his Guidry ancestors, specializing in the tracking and killing of ferocious werewolves. Her mother, Lynn Perry, derived from a ghost hunting family who’d been ganking every sort of specter and poltergeist in West Texas since the 19th century. Therefore, it came as no surprise when the two married and started a family together that they shared their respective expertise with their five children—three boys and two girls, the youngest of which was Cal.

Growing up, Cal and her siblings were trained to properly handle and respect every weapon found in the extensive cache of their house; a basement-level armory that was meticulously organized by make, model, and suggested use. From the time they were knee-height, the Guidry kids were drilled to clean, load, unload, and brandish guns until they understood them from inside out and the weapons felt as natural as permanent extensions of their arms. They took various mixed martial arts classes, learned Latin and English in tandem, and were taught about both werewolves and ghosts through their parents’ creative interpretations of bedtime stories. Being raised as warriors wasn’t exactly normal, but it was the closest thing the Guidrys had to it. Because despite their training, they were never starved of love or affection. Their parents were just like everyone else’s, apart from the extra mannerisms that made them unique.

Unfortunately, most of that changed when Cal was thirteen years old. The gorgeous mansion that she was raised in—that her family had called their own for several generations—was set aflame in the middle of the night. The majority of her family perished in the fire; her grandparents, parents, and almost all of her siblings. Only two Guidrys made it out alive that night; thirteen-year-old Cal, who smashed out her bedroom window and scrambled down the trunk of an old angel oak in the backyard, and her nineteen-year-old brother, Alexander, who had sneaked out past curfew to attend a poker tournament four hours away in New Orleans. By the time Alex made it back to Beaumont, Cal was at the neighbor's house and the Guidry family mansion was little more than a pile of ash and smoke.

It took three years of searching throughout the entire state of Texas, but the remaining Guidry siblings eventually found the culprit of their family's tragedy—an angry werewolf who lost his pack to their older brothers, Will and Nick, who'd ganked most of them after they started hunting college students in Austin. The kill was swift, with sixteen-year-old Cal eagerly doing the honors; a silver bullet right to the bastard's heart.

With the last thing keeping them in their home state now over, Alex and Cal bid Texas a final goodbye. They went on the road for another year and a half, condensing their lives down to dufflebags and seedy motel rooms across North America—the way other hunters did it, according to Alex. Cal learned more this way than she ever did back home, especially when it came to keeping her real identity safe and avoiding law enforcement. It wasn't until six months ago that everything went to shit all over again. While Cal was finishing up the last week of her senior year of high school, Alex went on what was supposed to be an easy ghost hunt in the swamps of Georgia. Except he never came back to their motel room, all of his burner phones are off, and Cal has been searching high and low for him for the last six months.




Alias: Izzy
How did you find us?: Disboard
Experience: Oh wow, it's been a good 13+ years now?
Other Characters: None
RP Sample: With a weary sigh, Cal dropped onto the rickety motel bed. It was late. She didn't know how late exactly, but the crickets were still singing outside and her eyes were feeling heavy. Though whether that was from the time or the long drive she'd taken to get here was uncertain. Tucking all of the bed's pillows behind her head, she rested her laptop on her stomach, giving her a better view of the screen as she opened it. She'd tried everything—his phone's GPS, his car's GPS, even the GPS of the Apple Watch she'd nicked out of the mall for his birthday. Her brother was nowhere to be found. His phones were either dead or off. His car hadn't moved from the spot it was in for the last six months. And who even knew where that stupid Apple Watch was at this point.

After thirty minutes of reverse searching everything she could think of—and had thought of already—Cal snapped the laptop closed and stared at the dingy tiles of the ceiling. She'd already searched every inch of that swamp herself. She'd found his car empty, and rock salt pellets scattered around the property of the only house for miles. The owner, Maggie, had said that he took care of the problem for her. The poltergeist was gone. But when she went to offer him some coffee the next morning, Alex was gone too. Leaving everything behind. Cal and Maggie had kept in touch ever since, but there was still no trace of him.

"Son, if you ain't already gator food, you're gonna be," Cal thought, crawling off the bed and making her way over to the fridge. She'd picked up some pumpkin stout from a local brewery, figuring it would go well with the popcorn and horror movies she planned on distracting herself with. At least, for the night. Because as soon as she found Alex, she would need the buzz to keep from strangling him with her bare hands.



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