Bootlegging Trolls

[Ladellon]

An unfinished work by Regor, meant to have been performed in Skullport at some time in the future.

Setting
A family of trolls runs a gambling house which is actually a front for a manufacturing ring in the back – they produce Lathandar holy symbols, Tyr pendants and beautifully weaved tapestries depicting battles between gods.

Roles
Travis T. O. Justis – paladin of Torm (“T.O.” stands for thoroughly overachieving)
Bif Ronoc– orc owner of Bif’s Betting Billet
Nathan “Nate” Gutgreaser – troll owner of Fortune Nate’s Gambling House
Bruisie Gutgreaser – troll owner’s wife
Bibol Gutgreaser – troll owner’s son


INTRODUCTION – narrator describes vileness of the city, thievery rampant, murderers running loose, perpetual darkness, ends by commenting, “and that’s just the way they like it in “Skullport.”)


OPENING – preparing to open for the night, owner, wife and son are making the place suitable (smashing tankards of ale against the wall, vomiting on floor, paying a few coins to a zombie to lay on the floor among the swill.) Doors open and patrons come in, most already drunk. Nate tends bar, Bruisie and Bibol run tables.


*singing*
[NATE] There’s brutes and zombies outside
And crowding three to a row.
They look to be without pride –
That’s how we like ‘em, you know.

Now tear those tapestries down
And smash a tankard of ale.
Our reputation’s renown
Mind e’en the smallest detail.

Oh, right here at Fortune Nate’s they’re gonna get our best show.
They’ve come from near and far including desert and . . . whoa!

*speaking* Whoa, whoa, whoa!

*pointing with a frown* What is that thing on the floor over there?

[BIDOL] Oh, he was knifed three days ago by that fence from across town. I think his name was Glurk – or at least that’s what he said as he hit the floor.

[NATE] And he’s still lying there?

[BIDOL] *shrugging* I thought he added to the décor.

[NATE] *smiling and clapping Bidol on the back* Brilliant, my boy! Now, where were we? Oh, yes, that refrain. Well, perhaps something a bit more . . . familiar . . .

*singing again (to the tune of “Belle” from Disney’s Beauty And The Beast)*

Fortune Nate’s
It's a gaming dwelling
Where each day
We delight your soul.
Fortune Nate’s
Where exclaiming people
Are walking in to say:

[customer entering]
Let’s roll!
Let’s roll! Let’s roll! Let’s roll!

[Nate]
Here comes the baker with his pay, like always
The same old dread yet full of pride
Ev'ry evening just the same
Since the evening that we came
To this base, rewarding town

*bowing to patrons* Please come inside!

Look there’s a patron acting strange, no question
Dazed and seeming in desperate straits.
There’s so many games to play
And a mutton chop buffet
No denying there is fun at Fortune Nate’s.

[Patron]
Look there are zowie slots, the name’s peculiar
I wonder if it’s luck or fate
With a dreamy far-off look,
dropping coins, it seems I’m hooked
What a puzzle is this house called Fortune Nate’s.

[Nate]
*points to patron at table*
Oh, isn't he amazing?
It's my fav'rite game there’s no debate
Here's where his gold starts fading
But he won't learn that it’s gone ‘til it’s too late

[Patron]
Now it's no wonder that I keep returning
Even though I lose and get irate

For despite being rode roughshod
The place has the most favored odds
Very diff'rent from the rest in town
Its nothing like the rest in town
Yes, diff'rent from the rest is Fortune Nate’s.


[Bif - quietly to himself]
Right from the moment when I watched it open
I said I could not sit and wait
For there’s only room for me -
The town’s chief gambling marquee -
So I'm making plans to bring down Fortune Nate’s


[Nate]
*beaming proudly* There’s clearly something to this gambling life!

[Bif]
*shaking fist* Just watch, I'm going to cause Nate’s such strife!

[Patron]
We’re crooks - who knows we may just find it special
To see the tables finally sate
Gambling urges are a sin
And that’s why we fit right in
'Cause this really is a house of fun
Doing duty as a house of fun
It really is a house of fun
That Fortune Nate’s


After a bit of dialogue, the scene changes to after the inn has closed. The Gutgreaser family is talking about their place in Skullport.

*singing*
In PSkullport where civilians are as wretched as they come
And everyone’s so low in life, there’s none left to call scum
You’d think a gambling house to be a levelheaded scheme
That would allow a troll or two to realize their dream.

But you’d be astounded
The place is surrounded
By others who’ve determined to pursue the same routine.

Thus, a stratagem is needed to rise from the local clan.
Something not tried before by either troll or drow or man.
It has to be discreet and yet it must be firmly cast
If you want your success in town to multiply and last
You need a plan
And we have a plan.

Oh, we’re bootlegging trolls!
All of the Sword Coast prefers ingenious entrepreneurs
And so we’re bootlegging trolls!
When holy trinkets are sought, please know that we can be bought.
And though we seem to lack souls, like them we have fiscal goals
And that’s why . . . we’re bootlegging trolls!

Oh, gambling pays the rent, my son, but never will replace
Counterfeit reproductions of Lathandar’s shield and mace.
There’s pious sorts out there who, though with condescending looks
Condemn our trite existence, yet need forged religious books.

And though they keep it sly
They’re hard pressed to deny
Our mixture of devices comes with quite attractive prices.

Ilmater’s monks need beads of prayer, Tyr’s clerics embossed plate.
We make them all here in the back at half prevailing rates.
We hope our guise won’t turn them off for though we gripe and spit
We’re only thinking of them and how they practically fit
Into our plan.
For we do have a plan.

Oh, we’re bootlegging trolls!
All of the Sword Coast prefers ingenious entrepreneurs
And so we’re bootlegging trolls!
When holy trinkets are sought, please know that we can be bought.
And though we seem to lack souls, like you we have fiscal goals
And that’s why . . . we’re bootlegging trolls!


Final song I had done was of the paladin, Travis, parading around the inn, discussing his place in Skullport openly to the Gutgreasers. . . .


*Travis singing*
Some folks would call me overboard before I get on ship
While others say my cause is lost before it starts the trip.
But I feel no frustration
Instead it’s anticipation
That builds within my breast . . .
And gives my soul contented rest.

For those I seek to fortify against temptation’s call
Need what I have in rich supply and freely give to all.
For them I feel no revulsion
Instead it’s divine compulsion
That drives me into peril’s way
And gives me courage to display . . .

Righteous innn . . . dignation!

Oh, there’s only one allowed tone
When facing villains unknown
And so for your salvation, it’s said,
I’ve made it my vocation to spread . . .

Righteous innn . . . dignation!

It’s time this vicious, seedy town accept my frank reproach
And parlaying is pointless for I have but one approach.
I feel that my tenaciousness
And oft times rash audaciousness
Aids me toward the goal for all my actions . . . and deeds –
To take control of all the rotten factions . . . and seeds . . .

with . . .

Righteous innn . . . dignation!

Alone I’ll stand against this town
And rise again when I’m knocked down.
Repeatedly by pirate, thief or slaver.
But give it time and soon they all will favor . . .

Righteous innn . . . dignation!

Nothing leaves me feeling more complete . . . So I repeat . . .

Righteous innn . . . dignation!




I think the paladin has to die in the end to some completely callous and random act by the Gutgreasers. Ah well, it will go unfinished but I thought the songs were particularly good.

Laddy