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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 17:31:43 GMT -5
Writer beginning: Ajashali, Horde, Voodoo Rebirth, Hunter, Troll
Archiver: Alabaster
((Based near Reventusk Village in the hinterlands. Feel free to post your backstory. This is for all, allinance,horde, gnome, whomever wants to.))
Boom Boom ba doom doom. The drums send out a deep thunder across the quiet night. A full moon sheds an ethereal glow across the land. Thousands of tiny candles wink and flicker in the vast expanse of the sky and the ocean softly pulses, twinkling back in defiance at the only thing more impressive than itself. On the top of the cliffs a huge silver wolf raises its head and lets loose a wail reminiscent of the mournful cry given by the living dead. Far below, a howl rises up to match it, and for a fleeting moment a duo is formed. Primal and eerie, the howl at last crescendos and fades into the sigh of the cool breeze as if it never existed. Lowering his head at last, the troll who matched the wolf’s howl grins and scratches the tummy of a small white bear that is lying on its back and contentedly chewing on the troll’s foot. He is dressed in ragged mail, a few bits of worn and patched leather, and for some reason, an eye patch with a hole in it. He is blue skinned, completely hairless, and is laced with the scars of a life spent in combat. His well muscled body crouches in the dust, primed and ready to move at a moments notice, his nose twitches and his large ears constantly swivel towards new sounds. Next to him sits a beautiful troll woman, just barely out of the stages of childhood. She is dressed tastefully and has a shock of blue hair that seems to be of interest to the hunter.
“Aja, ju get off mah hair!” she giggles as the hunter takes one of her braids and chews on it thoughtfully. “Ju gunna mess it up in front of all dese people.” She exclaims as he attempts to unbraid it. “Ju sillah huntah.” Pushing him gently, she giggles again.
“Sos?” he asks, determined to figure out how the hair remains together. “I dun care ifin joo gots messah hair or nots. Joo mah Waleska. I luvs joo.” He desists as she slaps his hands playfully and he turns to look at the rest of the people assembled around the fire. “Joo no care wat she look like eidder, cause she mines an she da pertiest ting evah.” He declares. Impulsively he gathers Waleska into his lap and promptly props his head up on her shoulder. “Joo wanna know mah story? Hokay, I tells joo. I no is gud at singin or playin da musik sos I just tells joo. Yah?” Without waiting for an answer, he dives right into the story. “When I was a whelp, mah mam was da besest evah…” He begins.
The peaceful sounds of the jungle in Stranglethorn echo under the massive trees. In a small clearing on a hill, a campfire burns. It lies in front of a small cave that is decorated with the paintings of a small troll boy who is currently enjoying the flavor of his paint rather than the artistic use. A stunning troll woman sings softly as she goes about cleaning up the quiet home and cooking the meal for the day. Out of the trees strides a tall troll. He smiles lovingly and kisses his wife. Then he crouches in front of his son, who is now far more bright yellow than blue, and rubs his bald head.
“Joo evah going to grow hair boy?” He teases playfully.
“Dunno.” Is all the boy answers as he resumes painting a large yellow sun on his stomach. Suddenly he leaps up as he remembers something. “T’dah mah lifeday!” He shouts and jumps into his mother’s arms.
Laughing, she catches him, wet paint and all. Swinging him high into the air she sings a tune to him and pulls him close for a hug. “What’s joo favorite?” she asks as her son cuddles into her arms.
“Orangetangs!” He shouts and bounces up and down.
“Ya, and I am going to go get joo da best orangetangs joo ever had.” She claims and kisses her boy on the head as she lowers him to the ground. Restraining her four year old bundle of pent up excitement, she looks to her mate. “Luvah, what are joo going to do for ouah Ajashali’s lifeday?” She asks for the boy’s benefit more than her own.
“Well, seeing dat he be a mighty fouh years old dis day, I am thinkin I will take him huntin.” He says as he grins.
The boy freezes and looks up at his father. “Joo weally gunna let mah hunts?!” he asks in disbelief.
“Nah I jus sayin dat.” He says with a laugh. Then he grins and picks up his son. “Of course I lets joo hunts. Today, we hunt frogs.”
Wide eye with wonder the little boy hugs his father’s neck and says, “Dems hahd to gets I betcha. I gunna practice weal hahd.”
“I know joo will.” His father says. “Joo gunna be a great huntah one day.” He sets the boy down and lets him run off to the stream to clean up. Turning to his wife, he gathers her into his arms and kisses her softly. “Joo be careful out dere. I been seein things other than just those ‘scalps out dere. I dun want mah luv to go off and die on mah.” He holds her as one would a treasure most breakable and precious to him.
“I will Luvah. I too have heard them in the trees. Joo keep mah boy safe. An dun joo get hurts jooself. What would I do without mah luv?” She whispers into his chest.
All of the sudden, there is a mighty whoop and a small, blue, completely naked form leaps off the top of the cave in direct defiance of gravity and all its presumed dominance. With lightning speed, the boy’s father catches him in the air and laughs as his son giggles. Looking down at the little blue bottom so prominently displayed due to the boy being caught only by one leg around the ankle, and due to the fact that the little one was wiggling and shaking with laughter, the father hands his son to his wife and grins. “Look what I caught. Into the stewpot with dis little bird.” He jokes.
“Noo!” the boy squeals and tries to hide his face in his mother’s hair. “I no food! I Aja!”
“Well den, dun jump off tings into mah arms, and I won’t make dat mistake.” The father replies. “Joo not always gunna have me dere to catch joo.” He states, hugging both his wife and son. “Now, get joo dressed. Joo bits will be bait fer da marsh fishes ifin joo dun covah dem.”
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 17:32:11 GMT -5
Writer: Ajashali
Archiver: Alabaster
A frog croaks in the marsh near the ocean. Brilliant yellow and green, it loudly proclaims that it is highly toxic and not given to take kindly to being food. It doesn’t notice the little gloved hand descending till it is caught firm. With a protesting croak, it falls into the bag with the two other successful catches of Ajashali. Standing up, the little boy looks out across the soggy landscape and sees his father with a much fuller bag. Thinking, as all little boys do, that his father is quite likely the most amazing person ever. Off he runs to his father, scattering fish, frogs, and a poor shocked crocalisk that doesn’t know what to make of the tiny, mud stained form sprinting over its back.
“Da! Da! Lookit! I finds dis yeller an green one! I gives it to mam yah?” the boy shouts.
His father gives him a stern look and says, “Boy, joo scared off all da frogs." Huntahs is quiet and we dun let nomon know we be dere. Joo undastand?”
The little boy looks downcast and replies, “Yah, I is sorrah.”
Smiling, the large troll picks up his son and puts him on his shoulder. He begins the march back through the marsh and says to his whelp, “I’m sure joo mam be real happah to get dat frog of joors. She’ll put it in da stewpot foh sure.”
In the distance, a loud boom reverberates through the air. The father ducks, bringing little Aja down to his chest and covering him with his own body to protect him. Out of the bush springs a tiny brown bear. It barrels right into Aja’s arms, squalling and terrified. Aja hangs onto it like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do and the bear seems to like that idea. Standing, the father looks down to see a dwarf charging through the trees. With no hesitation, the troll slits the dwarf’s throat and kicks its dying body into a pit of quicksand. The body disappears.
Aja clings to his new found squalling companion and starts crying. His father kneels in front of him, and Aja cries out, “Dat mon hurts dis mon’s mam.”
His father looks at him strangely and asks, “How joo know dat?”
“Dis mon tole me. He cryin foh his mam an he lost an skeered.” Aja answers.
“Joo undastand dat ting? What is it?” his father inquires.
“A beah an yah I does.” Aja replies. After that, Aja runs off with the now quiet bear following. His father follows shaking his head and they hurry home.
Upon reaching the cave, the father immediately senses something wrong. The fire is out and there is no noise of work or singing. Aja, having beaten his father there, calls out to him. “Da, dere nomon heah!” His father immediately tells Aja to stay put with his new friend and that he’ll find his mam. Aja does so, settling down to learn bear with his companion’s help.
Evening arrives and finds Aja waiting silently and lonely in the cave. All of the sudden, a crash can be heard in the bushes outside. Aja looks up to see a bloodstained and weeping troll walk into the camp. “Da?” Aja asks, terrified.
“Joo, dis joo fault. Joo mam dead ‘cause joo no like da Mangomelons as much as those Orangetangs. I.. I.. “ the father points at Aja and collapses to his knees, sobbing again.
Aja screws up his face and starts to cry, not understanding. “Wheah mam? Wheah mah Orangetangs? It mah lifeday! Why joo say mah fault? Wat I do? Why joo cry?” he sobs between ragged cries.
In a sudden rage, his father stands and slaps him across the face, sending the poor little troll sprawling and bleeding from the nose. This brings about a whole other bout of crying and the father begins to beat the boy. Grabbing a green thorn covered vine, his father beats Aja bloody and raw.
“Joo, joo not mah son. Mah son wouldn’t be the reason that pointy ear take mah wife away. I teach joo to shoot a bow, den joo gunna live or die alone. I dun care. I hate joo.” With a cry of “Luvah!” the father collapses and wails his grief next to the child who bore the brunt of it and is now beyond tears.
In the month that follows, Aja learns to shoot. Every day his father beats him and spits on him. Every day his father cuts himself and wails for his lost love. Nothing is taught to Aja about survival. Just how to shoot a bow straight. After his father deems it good enough to hit the broad side of Grubashi, he throws Aja into the jungle and says, “Joo not come heah evah again, or I beat joo so bad joo’ll nevah walk.” Then he spits on the boy and turns away.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 17:32:39 GMT -5
Writer: Ajashali
Archiver: Alabaster
Sad and alone but for the bear that stuck around, hiding near the cave, Aja walks into the jungle. The first few months are hard. He eats whatever he can get and often that is rotting meat. Over time his skills at hunting improve and his ability to communicate with the beasts proves invaluable. His bear, nameless in any language a member of the Horde can speak, shows him the Beast Spirits. Aja becomes a different creature. A troll, with the inherent abilities of regeneration, the intelligence, and the ability to use weapons and armor; and also a beast, speed, strength, sight, smell, hearing. All combined make him a Hunter. A predator of the most complete nature. He stops being a troll, too young to know right from wrong. He becomes a beast too old to lose all his troll aspects. In short, he is the best, and worst, of both aspects.
For almost two years, Aja doesn’t see another troll. When he does, he has no idea that trolls are territorial. The Bloodscalp tribe is one of the strongest and most vicious of the Stranglethorn Vale. Aja’s first encounter consists of peeping on a bathing ‘scalp female. He is only six, and wanders out to get a closer look at this strange person. Only his speed saves his life, as the female throws an axe at him.
With a shriek he lets fly with one of his tiny arrows and hits her in the arm. This allows him to learn that all trolls regenerate. Because she tears the arrow out and comes after him. The wound heals in moments and he bolts into the bushes. Now the female is stuck, she’s naked, Aja has a bow, and for some reason, the little blue troll has melted into the jungle underbrush. Shrugging, the female dons her clothes and leaves.
High above her Aja relaxes slowly, hidden deep in the boughs of the tree. Gathering his courage, he stalks after the woman. Upon reaching her village, he finds a father playing with a child. Fascinated, he watches them. Another child comes over to play too. The father watches as the new child takes a toy from the other. With a snarl, the father wrings the neck of the other child and gives the toy back to his. Then, to Aja’s horror, the father dresses the dead troll and puts it in a cooking pot. Aja resolves, as only a six year old can, to slay all these bad men and to never eat troll. Ever.
Aja’s next few encounters teach him to kill a troll. He comes away with wounds, but they are not anything he can’t survive. He learns to aim for the eyes and open mouth. He learns to shoot running trolls in the knees, so the arrow breaks off in their leg. He also learns a valuable habit. Looting the dead. As he progresses, he becomes so skilled at killing, the tribes would mingle and make huge hunting parties to try and kill him. None succeeded.
Silence reigns for two things in the jungle. The passing of a Beast Spirit, and the passing of a predator. The two tribes fight silently. Most of their time was spent stalking each other. The remainder was spent killing as fast and quietly as possible. It had become a game of cat and cat. Lightning fast attacks, a few slain or wounded, then retreat and stalk again. From the trees watches a silent form. Now sixteen, Aja has become so adept at hiding and killing, that these ‘scalps and Skullsplitters would never know he was there. Lowering slowly face first, Aja dangles his fur and leaf covered arms. A ‘splitter walks under him and dies without a sound. Aja’s bloodstained dagger takes another before it can call out. Again he waits. Another war party moves under him. Upside-down he watches the line finally come to an end. The last ‘scalp never cries out as the hands close over it’s throat and snap it’s neck. Aja holds the body upright till the last ‘scalp disappears and then drops it. Flipping back up onto the branch where his powerful toes had held him moments before, Aja takes aim on a target only he can see. He lets loose his bowstring and watches a ‘splitter die, nailed to a tree by the head. A shout is heard and the hunter feels an arrow enter his lower back. With a mighty spring, the hunter lands in a nearby tree and bolts, wondering how they saw him. A few hours later all that remains of that skirmish are bones and a new scar on Ajashali.
One evening, two years later, Aja is sitting in a tree with his bear next to him. He seems content to watch the sun set over the ocean. Below him, a goblin is camping. He knows what Goblins are from his run ins with the Booty Bay Bruisers who from time to time got hired by the humans to stop Aja from killing off their poachers. When the sun goes down and the goblin is totally asleep, Aja climbs down to steal food and supplies. He accidentally sets off a rocket, stunning him and waking the goblin. The goblin comes out with a gun pointed at the poor half blind troll.
“Who yah be there? Comon! Out with it! Yer name or yer life.” The goblin says in Trollish. What the goblin makes the mistake of is waving the gun around.
Aja moves, fast, and disarms the little goblin in seconds. In broken, misused trollish, he replies, “I Ajashali, wat dis?” He peers at the gun curiously and seems totally at ease around the goblin.
The goblin says, “That be me gun, and I am Fizzle Boomsticker, Engineer extraordinaire.”
Aja gives him a look of pure confusion and goes back to inspecting the gun. Fizzle decides that a stupid bodyguard that could move like that, was better than a brilliant one that would want money. So he asked Aja to come with him. Aja said “Hokay” and off they went.
Over the next year and a half, Aja learns how to engineer and how to speak a few languages other than beast and broken trollish. He learns how to survive in a city and that shooting everything that moves and hiding on roofs is not a good way to make friends. Finally Fizzle leaves and Aja is alone again. By now he’s come to the point of calling his bear Mojo and wearing armor, rather than skins and leaves. A farmer in Durotar leads him to the Valley of Trials to learn how to hunt like a member of the Horde.
“An dat how I bes getting heah.” Aja finishes with. “I a trollmon who not a troll. I a Huntah, not a huntah. Joo remembah dat. I gots lots moh stories, but dis jus mah beginnins.” With that, Aja picks Waleska up and runs off towards the water with a shout of “Swimmin!”
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 17:33:22 GMT -5
Writer: Waleska, Horde, Darkspear, Troll priest
Archiver: Alabaster
Waleska squeals as she is tossed into the brisk ocean waters. "Hey, Aja! ju build a fiah an invite alla dese mons ta weave tales. Ju can'na jus run off aftah ju done wit joors. Das rude, ja knowin?" She climbs onto his back, wr@ped her legs around his wasit and lays her chin on his shoulder to whisper in his ear. "It good ta heah joor storah from da beginnin. T'anks foah showin meh wheah joor mam beh too." She squeezes with her knees as though he were a raptor, "nah, take meh back to da fiah."
Writer: Ajashali
He giggles and runs on all fours back towards the fire. "Hokay, I sorrah. Joo tell joo tale next?" he says as he halts by the fire. Putting Waleska down he pulls her close and rests his chin on her shoulder. "Joo all tell joo story too!"
Writer: Omalmi, Horde, The Darkside of Forever, Troll Warrior
Uh mon, dat a sad story. But ya 'appy now, yah gots Waleska, ya? A more kindah, selfless woman be harder to imagine.
Ma story? *nervously scratches his healing, but still mauled ear*
Eh, it completely borin. I born, I grew up, I killed some alliance, it all good.
Writer: Waleska
Naw naw Omalmi! Ju got moah ta ju den dat. If ju dun wanna speak of joor earlah days, tell us of da beginnins of joor luv wit Kokia *grins* ah bet dat be a good storah
Writer: Seloona, Alliance, ABC, Gnome Warrior
Seloona, impressed with the stamina and grace, and also obvious enthusiasm wuth which Ajashali told his tale, decided to relate a tale of her own, using body lanuage for emphasis.
It sounded something like this:
"[Seloona][Common]: kek tibta nook romtinja poit krok tannin ka meptik. roptoon kinta rej nolli froon jimpsa wani wani rool sin keka tuns groof denstom.
Seloona makes some strange gestures.
Seloona makes some strange gestures.
[Seloona][Gnomish]: Prink funji don boomsi dom!
[Seloona][Common]: nook ka kamro poingy froom donsirag rin kek kek intom soim.
Seloona curtseys to Ajashali.
Seloona curtseys to Nokora.
Seloona curtseys to Waleska.
Seloona curtseys to Omalmi.
Seloona ponders Waleska's actions.
Seloona makes some strange gestures.
Seloona shrugs at Waleska.
Seloona cries on Waleska's shoulder.
Seloona hugs Ajashali."
Realizing that this was indeed a tougher audience than she had anticipated, Seloona mounted her trusty Mechanostrider, Polly, waved once to the assembled ensemble, and rode into the distance.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 17:36:17 GMT -5
Writer: Lashi, Horde, The Darkspear, Troll Priest
I'd hug joo Aja, but dat soundin dangerous, ya? *smiles warmly*
Writer: Ajashali
He runs over and picks Lashi up, giving her a huge hug then scampers off with her in his arms yelling "Swimmin Agin!"
Five minutes later he returns with Lashi, both soaked and he's giggling. "Dat fun, I trow joo fah in da wata!" he laughs. "Joo tell storah ors I takes joo dress dis times an den joo no can gets outta da wata!"
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 17:36:38 GMT -5
Writer: Lashi
Wrinkling up her nose at the exuberant hunter,"Ya Aja...joo trow me far. An wha makin joo tink I fraid a bein nekkid, ya?"
So saying, the priestess strips off her dripping robe and starts rooting through her packs for another.
"Hmmm, a storah, huh? Joo mebbe hear dis un afore, but dis da story of when I had ta leave home."
----------------------------------------------------
Lashi squatted on the beach, struggling to lay the fishing net flat so it could dry. “Dere, ya stoopid ting. Aya, ya need mendin soon,” the girl muttered as she finished. Straightening up, the amber hair Troll looked about. Everyone in the village was busy inland today. It had been weeks since the fish had schooled in the bay.
Smiling at the unexpected privacy, Lashi strolled along the water’s edge, bending over occasionally to pick up a shell, squatting to watch a crab dig. She breathed in the salt air deeply and dug her toes into the wet sand with a sigh of contentment.
Spying a piece of Stranglekelp drifting in with the waves, the girl jumped up and ran over. She reached for it quickly, grabbing it just before the next wave would have pulled it back out. Laughing aloud, she splashed back towards the sand. “I still be rememberin showin mah sistah how to pop dese tings wit ya teeth. Da noise dey make. Ahh, she laughed so much. Runnin up and down da beach, grabbin dem and bitin down on dem and laughing so hard .”
As she reminisced, Lashi absently put the kelp between her teeth and bit down on the air bladder. Instead of the expected salty tang, it was as if ice water flowed into her mouth. She gasped and closed her eyes at the sudden sensation. There was a loud rushing of wind and noise that surrounded her. She heard voices whispering all around her and seabirds calling. A voice, harsh and loud called out, but she could not make out the words. A murmur of voices grew louder, closer. She felt almost weightless, supported by hands, dozens of them, holding her up, keeping her from floating away. The swirl of noise moved past her and diminished. As it moved further away, the hands set her gently back down. As the last hand pulled away, Lashi heard a familiar voice, her Gran-Gran’s. “ It be time for ya to go, girl…”
As her feet touched the wet sand once again, Lashi felt heavy, so very heavy. Her knees buckled slightly with the unexpected weight of her. Her skirts pulled at her, sodden and heavy. The back of her throat stung, salt burnt and sore. Her eyes flew open and she looked around, startled. In front of her was her father. He had a closed off and shadowed look to him. She started to open her mouth to ask him what was happening, when he nodded behind her. The girl turned to look.
Everyone from her village was out in the water. All of the boats were launched, all of the nets were cast and people were waist deep. The nets were being pulled up, filled with fish. Children were running around laughing. Women were singing. Men were straining to lift the enormous catch.
Puzzled, Lashi turned back to her father. He gazed out to sea, blood dripping from one hand, his gutting knife in the other. “We be givin tanks for da riches of da sea dis day. We be givin tanks for da guidance ya be showin us.” His blood dripped onto the sands splashing the limp piece of Stranglekelp. Stepping forward he reached out to his daughter and smiled, holding her face with both hands,” Go kiss ya Mama good-bye, it be time for ya ta go, Lashi.” The man then strode out to the boats to assist with the nets.
Lashi put her hand up to her cheek, where her father had touched it. She looked at her fingers, now stained with his blood and she shivered.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 17:37:03 GMT -5
Writer: Lashi
Now, I don know iffn joo evah havin doubts or concerns bout joor callin, but I know at times I do.
----------------------------------------------------
The Troll woman stood impatiently waiting for the goblin to hand her her auction receipts. She rolled her head back and forth, trying to stretch out her aching muscles. Sighing and closing her eyes. Lashi let her thoughts drift a bit.
{ Hmm. Gotta remember ta be checkin on da runecloth for Kharna. Cheap runecloth. Wonder if dere any shoulders dat be goin wit ma new robe. It sure looks nice. I tink dis is da most covered up I ever be but don’t I look grand! Hope it worth what it cost…
<sigh> But…is dis what I s’pose ta be? All elegant an fussin bout money? Long ways from Sen’jin. I tinks I have more money den Papa ever see. Hope Papa doin well. Should go see dem soon.
Da Darkspear folks sure be nice. It’s nice ta be havin fambly round all da time. So happy for Kharna. It funny dat bein so much in Orgrimmar makin Kharna more troll an me less so. Heh.
She like a weapon, all sharp an shiny, knowin exactly what she supposed ta do. No doubts at all. <sigh> I don tink I ever even fought nuttin by maself. Get lost so easy. Hard ta tink dat I needs ma lil sistah so much. At least one of us gots some kinda direction to go.
Mebbe I need ta be spending more time just relaxin, fishin, listenin ta da Sea. <smile> Long time since da Sea be speakin ta me. I can always feel da tides, da currents playin on ma skin if I tink bout it. But…}
A huge roaring filled her ears, as the air was crushed from her by the intense pressure. Tears sprang from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks, as a feeling urgency filled her. A voice, more felt than heard echoed in her ears, “The black water....it waits. Surrounded by the earth, no light to reflect the ancient secrets it holds. Seek out the first waters, the dark waters.”
“Your receipts, ma’am. Ma’am. Ma’am! Time is money! Take your receipts,” the goblin repeated even louder trying to get the Priestess’ attention.
Looking up, Lashi shook her head and numbly took the offered papers. She reached up and wiped the tears from her face. Putting her fingers up to her lips, the Troll tasted the saltiness and smiled. “ I don unnerstan. But I not forgettin again. Dis path I walk, be of joor choosin. Always bettah ta float wit da currents, den ta fight da waves. I be joor Priestess!”
Lashi smiled and blessed the confused auctioneer, before striding out of the Auction House into the bright sunlight.
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 17:37:32 GMT -5
Writer: Omalmi
Da story when I met Kokia? Err, dat include certain ... details I not goin to say or she may 'urt me. But someone else soorly gots a tale to tell.
Writer: Ajashali
Suddenly hits Omalmi with a pounce that levels him in the air. "Joo tells mah!" He yells, pulling on Omalmi's ears. "Tells mah! I wanna heah!"
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Post by Archivist~Alabaster on Feb 15, 2006 17:37:49 GMT -5
Writer: Waleska
Waleska laughs as she watches Aja maul their friends. “Ah spent manah yeahs in Westfall. Sommatimes been good, sommatimes naht so good- like everahmons, ah guess. Dis ah tell from da happah nights when dey gathah round a fiah. Da ‘umie from down da way be Aaron. He was allus singin an pickin at dis funnah instrument he make.” Waleska digresses, “ ah wish ah could’a learn ta play dat, but… ah t’ink ju need ten fingas ta do it. His was flyin so fast ju could hardlah see em.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a pair of rib bones. “Anyways, Aaron used ta come an sing. He had a pet too, a parrot dat would sit on his shouldah an bob in time to da music. Ju could’na help ta dance when he play.” Waleska takes the bones in her right hand and shakes her wrist, testing the rattle. A quick adjustment allows for more play, and soon a simple but lively rhythm unfolds. “Dis a song he wrote bout luv… ah t’ink it foah is jug t’ough,” she giggles.
Wish ah had a jug a wine, an a little gurl,
Sit right heah on da rivahbank an sing dis song foah her
Lonesome, dun ju know, had a little gurl, wheah did she go?
Lonesome, dun ju know, had a little gurl, wheah did she go?
Once ah had a little gurl, she treated meh so fine,
Den one day ah shot her dead, ah caught her in mah wine.
Hey gurl, dun play dat! Leave mah wine right wheah it at!
Hey gurl, dun play dat! Leave mah wine right wheah it at!
If ah find anothah gurl, ah tell ju what ah do,
Leave her house in da middle of da night, an come right home ta ju.
Lonesome, dun ju know, had a little gurl, wheah did she go?
Lonesome, dun ju know, had a little gurl, wheah did she go?
If ah pass dis way again, wit a jug a wine,
Ah stop by ta say farewell, an wish dat ju were mine.
Lonesome, ja it true, wish ah had meh a gurl like ju.
Lonesome, ja it true, wish ah had meh a gurl like ju.
Now ah on my dyin bed, too late foah meh ta sin
Have dat gurl spill a little wine right down upon mah grave
Fare ju well, fare ju well, wheah ah bound, nomon can tell.
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