Only her closest, most trusted friends get to know her name. As any fule kno, you don't put your true moniker on your card if you're an Arcane Personage, and least of all if you're a pure ghost without the anchor of a material body. You're asking to be jerked around by every ten-a-dime medium and bargain-basement necromancer. And she’s made too many enemies to get careless. Call her "The Weasel" or maybe just "Her".

In her breathing days she was a mundane sword-for-hire. In undeath she learned the weapons of shades and wizards. Now she "leads" a pirate crew of freelance nightmares, sailing the Outer Astral Belt in a jerry-built spectral galleon and pestering the extortionist colonial empires of the Dreamlands. Scare quotes on "leads" as she and her crew are just too Chaotic-aligned for any serious command structure. It's one unending low-level mutiny, but they somehow make it work. On slow days they'll walk the plank for kicks.

Between raids she writes Creepypastas. Really bad ones. That Lovecraft pastiche that made your eyes roll so hard you had to see the ER optician? Likely one of hers.

She has mixed feelings on fireworks: she applauds the reckless spirit of making art from fire and the wild sense of spectacle, but they look and smell too close to her memories of the mortal world's battlefields. Some of the nastiest weapons can be beautiful from a distance.

Officially she's banned from the Dreamland town of Ulthar. Unofficially, they let her in under the most mockingly obvious disguises. The cats there are her hardcore fans, and in Ulthar, as any fule kno, you do not cross the cats.

She is Good as well as Chaotic, however alarming she can sound. She's lived, died and un-died long enough to learn compassion. She knows what it is to lose people, and what it is to watch people losing you, and if her shadow blades and cantrips can do anything to spare you that pain then she’s on your side. She'll tolerate fools… not gladly but she will tolerate them, within reason. She'll own up to being one herself often enough. And she is loyal; Death and Taxes have nothing on her for constancy.

She has Enemies. The otherworld colonialists she’s hassled a thousand times too often. The necromancers who would bottle her soul and use her energies in their projects. And the exorcist priests who hold ghosthood a perversion and would lay her to rest for her own good. These last she hates the worst. She doesn’t need exorcising. Some ghosts haunt out of guilt or hate or obsession. A few (nowhere near as many as M. Night Shyamalan would have you think) haven’t realized they’re dead. But most know exactly what and where they are, and know that their peace isn’t to be found in resting. Her dance with the cosmos isn’t done until she says it is.

I have it on doubtful authority that her crew keelhaul her annually for her atrocious Talk Like A Pirate Day performance. Apparently she enjoys it, says it's great for the fleas. Ghost fleas, I guess.