Archive for desi de voodoo girl

Desi de Voodoo Girl

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on August 9, 2010 by Razorstorm

This is an RP entry to provide the backstory to my warlock on Earthen Ring-US, Desdeamona, affectionately called “Desi de Voodoo Girl”.  Yes, I have two toons named Desdeamona.  This one, and my Blood Elf Paladin on Lightinghoof-US.  Don’t judge.  This will also be posted on Desdeamona’s profile on the Earthen Ring RP Network.

Your question hangs in the air.

Across the campfire from you, the young girl sits in a crouch.  The firelight dances along her dark skin, and highlights her stark white hair.  Her thick dreadlocks are tied into a thick topknot and splay out madly.  In the flickering shadowy light they almost look like pale serpents.  Her dark eyes glance at you shyly, slyly, through the tops of the dancing flames, and then return to the strange collection of materials her lap, which she seems to be manipulating deftly, though you can’t quite see what they are, nor what she’s making.

After a moment of silence she answers  you, “So, you be wantin’ ta know why I talk like dis, eh?”  She smiles slightly, her attention still at her work.   “Well, I ‘appen ta be in an accommodatin’ mood t’night, so I jes might be willin’ ta tell ya.”  Her eyes flick up to meet yours and you find suddenly feel pinned in place by a gaze much fiercer and more powerful than one would expect from this small waif of a girl.  “But, first… you gotta say what “dis”… sounds like.” Her gaze drops as she brushes a thick lock of hair out of her face, and you suddenly remember to breathe.  “Well?”

After a few breaths, you say it, “Why do you talk like a… like a troll?”

She let the question hang for a moment.  “You eva’ meet a troll, mon?”

You clear your throat, “Well… um… not really.  I mean, I faced them in battle.  But I recognize the accent from some pirates I heard speaking the common tongue in a tavern down in Booty Bay.  It’s um… very distinctive.”

She smiles broadly, her teeth stand out against her dark skin.  “I suppose it ‘tis, mon.  Very well den.  I spent de last 12 years o’ so livin’ wit de Amani down in Stranglet’orn.  Dats right, mon, I was raised by trolls.” Her eyes flick up to check your response, but she’s careful not to make eye contact this time, for which you are grateful.  They flick back down to her work, then after a moment, she took a deep breath in, the sighed as she looked off to the side, as if accessing the memories was difficult.

“I was a little girl.  Only 5 yea’s old, I t’ink.  I was sailing wit’ mah fada’ on a merchant vessel called “Da Forgotten Maiden.”   My fada’ was a fine saila’.”  She smiled sadly at the memory.  “’E was da first mate, on da ship.  My moda’ had just died from some illness, an’ he didn’t wan’ me left home all alone wit’ nothin’ but my tuta’s an’ se’vants.  So’e decided to take me wit’im.”

“We sailed down de coast from home.  On ah’ way, probably only a day o’ two from ah’ destination, which now I be t’inkin’ was Booty Bay, we run inta’ a terrible storm.  De ship was destroyed.  I rememba’ my fada’ holdin’ onta me, haulin’ me on top a’ some debris.  When I woke up, I was sittin’ in my fada’s lap, next to a small fire, watchin’ da sun disappea’ into de ocean.  Lookin’ back, ‘e shouldn’t ‘a made a fire… cause fires draw attention.  Dat very night, a troll came to ah’ camp an’ attacked us.  He ‘ad terrible magic dat gave us no hope a’ gettin’ away.  I remember tryin’ ta run away, like mah fada’ tol’ me to.   As I run down da beach, I felt like I was runnin’ through thick mud, an ‘e caught me easy.  ‘E was so big.  Bigga’ den any man I eva’ seen.  ‘E scooped me up, an carried me back to de campfire.  He tied me up and made me sit dere and watch as ‘e… as ‘e ate mah fada.”

She sniffled, her dark eyes wet around de edges.  She wiped her tears away with a dirty finger.  I offered her my handkerchief, which she accepted with a smile.

“De whole time ‘e kept tellin’ me ‘bout how ‘e was gonna eat me next.  But when ‘e was done, ‘e was wracked by a terrible headache. Den ‘e put his head in his hands ‘n cried.  When ‘e was done, ‘e looked up and said to me, “Dat was unexpected.” ‘E didn’t eat me, afta’ all. Instead, ‘e carried me back to ‘is home, and tied me up der.  ‘E said ‘e was mah  fada’ now, dat mah fada’s spirit was part o’im somehow from de eatin’.  An ya’ know, I t’ink ‘e was tellin’ da truth.  ‘E raised me as ‘is child.  I worked fa’ ‘im, cleanin’, cookin, doin’ whatevah’ ‘e tell me to.”

“We lived by ah’selves, jes ‘im & me.  ‘E was what you people would call a “witch docta,” an’ ‘e was very powerful, an’ very wise.  Occasionally we’d go visit one ‘a da nearby tribes to trade for supplies, or fa’ ‘im ta meet wit’ da elda’s to discuss t’ings.  Sometime’s we’d get visita’s comin’ ta ask fa ‘is wisdom.  De always marveled at me, called me ‘is “pretty pet.”  Dere was lotsa jokin’ about me bein’ a snack ‘e was savin’ fa lata’.  More den one asked if dey could have a nibble.  ‘E neva’ tol’ dem about de t’ing wit mah fada, o’ how ‘e felt about me, but ‘e made it very clear to all a’ dem dat I was ‘is and ‘is alone, and dat ‘e would rip out da heart o’ any dat touch me.  But dey always made it very clear dat ‘is protection was de only reason I wasn’t da next meal.  Dat’s how I spent the last 12 years.  Livin’ wit ma new fada’, tryin’ not ta get eatin’ by da trolls, by da tigers, by jes about everyt’ing.”

“I always was askin’ ‘im ta teach me ‘is magic, but ‘e neva’ would.  Instead ‘e teach me de magic o’ de plants in de jungle, an’ what ye can do wit’ dem.  I watch everyt’ing I could, and I learn little bits, but nothin’ real.  Den one day, I heard a voice.  A little voice dat offered ta teach me what ‘e wouldn’t.  An’ so I follow da voice to a small cave in da hills.  De voice tol’ me how to draw a strange circle in monkey blood, and tol’ me de words to say to summon ‘im to me.  ‘E gave me what I wanted.  ‘E taught me de magic my new fada’ wouldn’t.  I kept it a secret fa months, learnin’ from ‘im in stolen hours & minutes.” 

“Den one day ‘e found me wit mah new friend. ‘E was furious. ‘E said I what I was doin’ was evil an’ dat ‘e would soona’ eat me ‘imself den see me traffickin’ wit mah new friend.  I said to ‘im dat ‘e got no one to blame but ‘imself.  Dat I had learned more in dose few short months wit’ mah new friend den in my 12 years watchin’ ‘im.  I thought ‘e was gonna kill me right dere.  But ‘e didn’t.  ‘E jes hung ‘is head and said to go.  Get out and neva’ come back.  So I did.  I ran, and I ran until I found da road North.  I knew I needed ta get outa dere quick.  ‘E wasn’t protectin’ me any longa’, so if any a dem other trolls dat be lickin’ der lips at me fa’ 12 years past found me, I was a dead girl.  So I made mah way North, carefully, tryin’ not ta get eatin’ by da trolls, by da tigers, by jes about everyt’ing.”

She took deep, cathartic breath.  You suddenly shake your head, realizing just how focused you’d been.  “An’ das why I talk like dis.  So now you know.  T’anks for listenin.  I know it was a long story.  An t’anks for de handkerchief.  It looks so nice on mah new poppet.”  You’ve been so enraptured by the story that you never noticed that her hands had kept working on the project in her lap the whole time.  She held up a small doll made of plant husks and cloth.  Your handkerchief is tied around it’s throat.  She smiled fiercely. 

“You’ve been so helpful.  Now I need jes one more t’ing from you, but I don’t t’ink you be givin’ it willingly.”

Suddenly very uncomfortable under her piercing gaze, you stammer “Um.. What do you need.  I’m sure we could work something out?”

Suddenly a small… thing… with wings stepped out of the shadows behind her, it’s yes shining with a green fel-glow.  It smiles at you with a wicked grin.  She turned her gaze to the doll, and pulled out a sharp piece of bone from her hair.  “Dat’s de t’ing.  What I be needin’… is your soul.” With that she plunged the shard of bone into the hand of the doll.  Your hand bursts into pain, as if a knife had just been plunged into it.  She waved her hand over the head of the doll, and suddenly you realize you are running, running as far away as fast as you can in stark terror.  A stabbing pain erupts behind your knee and you fall to the ground writhing.  You look up and see her looking down at you, her hair draping down, looking even more snake like than before.

“T’anks for de meal, and de handkerchief, and everyt’ing else.”  And suddenly everything goes black.