Since Kalee is being retired and my next PC will not follow the same stage-seeking path as the Silver Siren of Lurien, I have decided to publish the script for the Marriage of Racee here for everyone's reading enjoyment.
There may be some typos as I converted it from the macro program to here, but it's close enough. Honestly, I thought the songs were more clever but it had less bang than the first one (btw, I loved switching into the devil costume for that show!)
Enjoy.
Laddy
MARRIAGE OF RACEE
-
Ladellon
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 155
- Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
- Location: just north of Leadfeather
MARRIAGE OF RACEE
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.
Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith
Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith
Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
-
Ladellon
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 155
- Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
- Location: just north of Leadfeather
ACT I, SCENE I
(a city street filled with merchants and people shopping or otherwise moving about.)
VENDOR: *looks up and waves happily* Well, hello Racee.
*Racee walks onto the scene, smiles and grabs an apple from the vendor. She flips him a coin, which falls to the ground. When he bends over to fetch it, Racee plucks three coins from the vendor’s purse and pockets them.*
RACEE: *singing* Thank you master Gherri for the fruit you deal *he smiles at Racee*
Without you I don’t know if I would have a meal *she backs up a step*
I’d likely waste away . . .
Or worse!
I might just have to pay . . .
A curse!
*quietly* For all the things from you I simply steal.
*She walks quickly across the street as the fruit vendor looks up*
Oh, the life of a thief is not so bad
Providing relief from a world gone mad
*she looks to a small boy in the street*
Has everything been flawless?
Well, I couldn’t swear that’s true.
*she pats him on the head and gives him a coin*
Am I often labeled lawless?
It depends upon one’s view.
*she sings to the people on the street who seem to pay her no mind*
Now why a daring lass or fearless lad
Would choose a life that’s bland
And painstakingly planned
And void of all the escapades I’ve had?
I just don’t understand.
Oh, the life of a thief is no so bad!
*she walks past a hunched and bandaged old man and drops a coin that rolls to him*
*she sighs* Spending everyday without a single care
Sleeping in ‘til noon or wending here and there
*she indicates up and down the street*
I do enjoy the perk . . .
Without it,
I might just have to work . . .
*laughs* I doubt it!
There’s certainly a better means to earn my fare.
Oh, the life of a thief is not so bad
Providing relief from a world gone mad
*she asks a passing guard*
Have I had many close calls?
Well, perhaps I’ve had a few
*she stares a horse in the face*
Slept out in any horse stalls?
Yes, but I’ve been in beds too!
Now why a daring lass or fearless lad
Would choose a life that’s bland
And painstakingly planned
And void of all the escapades I’ve had?
I just don’t understand.
Oh, the life of a thief is no so bad!
*she hops onto a barrel and faces the crowded street*
It’s the only one that I have ever had
And I must admit it makes me very glad!
Oh, the life of a thief is no so bad!
*she finishes with a flourish, jumps down from the barrel and walks up the street humming to herself*
(a city street filled with merchants and people shopping or otherwise moving about.)
VENDOR: *looks up and waves happily* Well, hello Racee.
*Racee walks onto the scene, smiles and grabs an apple from the vendor. She flips him a coin, which falls to the ground. When he bends over to fetch it, Racee plucks three coins from the vendor’s purse and pockets them.*
RACEE: *singing* Thank you master Gherri for the fruit you deal *he smiles at Racee*
Without you I don’t know if I would have a meal *she backs up a step*
I’d likely waste away . . .
Or worse!
I might just have to pay . . .
A curse!
*quietly* For all the things from you I simply steal.
*She walks quickly across the street as the fruit vendor looks up*
Oh, the life of a thief is not so bad
Providing relief from a world gone mad
*she looks to a small boy in the street*
Has everything been flawless?
Well, I couldn’t swear that’s true.
*she pats him on the head and gives him a coin*
Am I often labeled lawless?
It depends upon one’s view.
*she sings to the people on the street who seem to pay her no mind*
Now why a daring lass or fearless lad
Would choose a life that’s bland
And painstakingly planned
And void of all the escapades I’ve had?
I just don’t understand.
Oh, the life of a thief is no so bad!
*she walks past a hunched and bandaged old man and drops a coin that rolls to him*
*she sighs* Spending everyday without a single care
Sleeping in ‘til noon or wending here and there
*she indicates up and down the street*
I do enjoy the perk . . .
Without it,
I might just have to work . . .
*laughs* I doubt it!
There’s certainly a better means to earn my fare.
Oh, the life of a thief is not so bad
Providing relief from a world gone mad
*she asks a passing guard*
Have I had many close calls?
Well, perhaps I’ve had a few
*she stares a horse in the face*
Slept out in any horse stalls?
Yes, but I’ve been in beds too!
Now why a daring lass or fearless lad
Would choose a life that’s bland
And painstakingly planned
And void of all the escapades I’ve had?
I just don’t understand.
Oh, the life of a thief is no so bad!
*she hops onto a barrel and faces the crowded street*
It’s the only one that I have ever had
And I must admit it makes me very glad!
Oh, the life of a thief is no so bad!
*she finishes with a flourish, jumps down from the barrel and walks up the street humming to herself*
Last edited by Ladellon on Thu Apr 22, 2004 1:11 pm, edited 3 times in total.
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.
Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith
Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith
Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
-
Ladellon
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 155
- Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
- Location: just north of Leadfeather
ACT I, SCENE II
(late afternoon at the Crooked Noose, a tavern in the Freeman’s District. Racee is drinking with her friends.)
*A man dressed in the garb of a royal messenger bursts into the tavern. He breathlessly inquires of all the patrons*
MESSENGER: Have you . . . heard? *breathing heavily* Have . . . you . . . heard?
RACEE: *shouts to the messenger* Out with it, man. It’s the outfit, right? Been declared a royal tragedy - am I correct?
*fellows gathered at the table laugh lightly*
MESSENGER: *looks astounded* You don’t know?
RACEE: *begins to lift her drink unconcernedly* Know what?
MESSENGER: *sings with continued excitement*
Have you heard? Have you heard?
There’s a contest on the morrow
For the prince is through with sorrow
And he’s going to wed tomorrow
Have you heard?
Oh my word, it sounds absurd
But with swiftness and daring come
All the fathers of the kingdom
With their daughters that can sing some
Oh, my word.
Oh, the prince will choose the very best
The one who passes his small test
But no one knows what the test will be
‘A secret for the morn,’ says he.
But he’ll choose one and sweep the lass away
As the others likely spitefully will say . . .
It’s unheard! I’m preferred!
I must have another chance for
If you’re seeking some romance you’re
Missing me out on the dance floor.
I’m preferred!
But the prince has plainly made his stance
He’ll choose one at tomorrow’s dance.
One meeting his requirements
Will be the one that represents
The kingdom as a princess newly crowned
She will instantly be famous and renowned.
Oh, it’s occurred, please send word
For the prince is going to marry
Come by horse, by foot, or ferry
Make your plans and do not tarry
Please send word.
Oh, the prince is going to marry . . .
Please send word!
*The messenger finishes and walks back outside while Racee and the men laugh at the prospect of attending the contest. Racee stands and walks about in an overly feminine posture*
RACEE: Oh, why sweet prince. You should certainly choose me. Why . . . I can . . . I can cook, clean, pour your wine and I’ve never been known to . . . well . . . release excess bodily gases in public. *she flatulates* Well, hardly ever. *she giggles*
*Men around the table laugh loudly. Meanwhile a hunched and bandaged old man limps to the table. It is the same man from the market that morning. Hee looks at Racee as she chuckles and sits back down to her ale*
OLD MAN: *claps politely* Very nice, lass. Now why would you presume the prince would want such a woman as that? One so refined and . . . *coughs* . . . so mannered?
RACEE: *waves a hand dismissively* He is a prince old man. Therefore, he is a fop. A dandy. *she leans forward confidently* He couldn’t handle a woman such as m’good self anyway, doncha know. I would wear the poor lad out, wot! *men laugh*
OLD MAN: *nods knowingly* Ahh, I see. You fear the contest itself. You know not its nature and so you shy from it’s call.
RACEE: *stands in defiant manner* Fear, you say? Me? *laughs* I fear nothing! In particular I do not fear any contest of some pampered, royal milksop. *she looks about the table* Why, I could win this contest. *the men around the table nod their heads*
I could win this contest and the prince, of that I’ve no doubt. Bah, but what would I do with a prince? *she shakes her head and laughs*
OLD MAN: Well, well. Easily win the contest, you say? Hmmm, what would it be worth to you if . . . I could provide some insight into this . . . contest?
RACEE: You? What do you know of this thing, old man?
OLD MAN: *sings softly to Racee and the men around the table*
There’s an urn, so I’ve heard
And within’s what each contender,
Be they overweight or slender,
Wishes the prince would surrender.
So I’ve heard.
So if you, undeterred
By the sentries ‘round the palace
Did obtain this guarded chalise
You could t’ward the prince be callous
Undeterred
But I think that you are full of bluff
Pretending to be coarse and tough
I’m sure you’d like to be the one he chooses
And you’re not the type, I see, who often loses
And so I see your problem very clearly
If you lose . . .
Well, you wouldn’t lose,
But if you win . . . ah, you’d have a man who loves you dearly
And that’s sincerely . . .
Something that you’re likely never to accept.
*speaking* Now tell me lass, am I right?
RACEE: *with a contemptuous look on her face she sings*
I’ll get this urn, this chalice,
This thing that’s in the palace
Whatever secret that it holds inside
I’ll bring it here and then, I must confide,
Despite the fact that I’ll then know the game
The feelings that I have will stay the same -
I will not care a single bit at all
To attend the prince’s showy ball
For I’ve no need of any man at all!
OLD MAN: *looks skeptically at Racee* I see, lass. Well, as you like it then. Obtaining that chalice, however, will be some feat indeed.
*the old man limps out the door of the tavern and into the street*
MULTHAR: *stands and tries to look gallant despite food in his beard* Har, har.
You don’t need no prince, Racee! Why would ye when ye’ve got ol’ Multhar, eh?
CROWETH: *trips over a chair as he approaches Racee and falls to the floor where he calls out* Take me, Racee. I’ll satisfy yer needs, lass! *he belches loudly from the floor and everyone laughs*
RACEE: *smiling* You belching, ale-swilling stinkers? You’re no different than all the rest. Hah! Men! *she throws her hands up and walks away then abruptly turns back to the men who gape at her raptly* Let me tell you what I really think fellers . . . *she begins to sing*
Once long ago while I was traveling about
I happened upon quite a row.
Three men were attempting, with stout wooden clubs,
To land on each other a blow.
When asked of the reason they’d started this scrap
They paused for a moment and then,
They shrugged, raised their clubs and resumed their attack
And shouted, “I guess ‘cause we’re men!”
*speaking* Are you beginnin’ t’see where I’m headed with this gents?
*singing*
Uncouth and unclean -
Always rude and obscene -
And none are too keen
If you know what I mean
An ale-drinking, unthinking, unkempt machine . . .
Who needs a world full of men?!
*she walks around the table, running her hands through Multhar’s hair as she passes him*
Once out on a mission with three sturdy lads
We came on a gathered orc horde
I made the suggestion that we turn about,
But I was hastily ignored
I whispered a warning as they drew their swords,
Prepared to charge into the glen,
“Use stealth and good tactics,” I pleaded. They said,
“Why should we? You know that we’re men!”
Uncouth and unclean -
Always rude and obscene -
And none are too keen
If you know what I mean
An ale-drinking, unthinking, unkempt machine . . .
Who needs a world full of men!?
*she pours the remnants of a wine bottle over Croweth who laps at it greedily*
Oh, why would I want to engage in a scene
Where one might think I tolerated a being
Who, for common sense, is the very vaccine!?!?
Yes, who needs a world full of men!?
Not I!
Who needs a world full of men!?
Not I!
Who needs a wooooorld . . .
full of meeeeeeeeeeen!?
*The men laugh and make arduous pleas with their bodies. Racee laughs and sits back down with a contemplative look.*
RACEE: I should get that chalice just to show the old man. *heads nod* If anyone can, surely it would be me. What do you think boys? Shall I do it?
*The men shout YES loudly. Racee drains her ale, slaps Croweth on the back and walks out of the tavern.
(late afternoon at the Crooked Noose, a tavern in the Freeman’s District. Racee is drinking with her friends.)
*A man dressed in the garb of a royal messenger bursts into the tavern. He breathlessly inquires of all the patrons*
MESSENGER: Have you . . . heard? *breathing heavily* Have . . . you . . . heard?
RACEE: *shouts to the messenger* Out with it, man. It’s the outfit, right? Been declared a royal tragedy - am I correct?
*fellows gathered at the table laugh lightly*
MESSENGER: *looks astounded* You don’t know?
RACEE: *begins to lift her drink unconcernedly* Know what?
MESSENGER: *sings with continued excitement*
Have you heard? Have you heard?
There’s a contest on the morrow
For the prince is through with sorrow
And he’s going to wed tomorrow
Have you heard?
Oh my word, it sounds absurd
But with swiftness and daring come
All the fathers of the kingdom
With their daughters that can sing some
Oh, my word.
Oh, the prince will choose the very best
The one who passes his small test
But no one knows what the test will be
‘A secret for the morn,’ says he.
But he’ll choose one and sweep the lass away
As the others likely spitefully will say . . .
It’s unheard! I’m preferred!
I must have another chance for
If you’re seeking some romance you’re
Missing me out on the dance floor.
I’m preferred!
But the prince has plainly made his stance
He’ll choose one at tomorrow’s dance.
One meeting his requirements
Will be the one that represents
The kingdom as a princess newly crowned
She will instantly be famous and renowned.
Oh, it’s occurred, please send word
For the prince is going to marry
Come by horse, by foot, or ferry
Make your plans and do not tarry
Please send word.
Oh, the prince is going to marry . . .
Please send word!
*The messenger finishes and walks back outside while Racee and the men laugh at the prospect of attending the contest. Racee stands and walks about in an overly feminine posture*
RACEE: Oh, why sweet prince. You should certainly choose me. Why . . . I can . . . I can cook, clean, pour your wine and I’ve never been known to . . . well . . . release excess bodily gases in public. *she flatulates* Well, hardly ever. *she giggles*
*Men around the table laugh loudly. Meanwhile a hunched and bandaged old man limps to the table. It is the same man from the market that morning. Hee looks at Racee as she chuckles and sits back down to her ale*
OLD MAN: *claps politely* Very nice, lass. Now why would you presume the prince would want such a woman as that? One so refined and . . . *coughs* . . . so mannered?
RACEE: *waves a hand dismissively* He is a prince old man. Therefore, he is a fop. A dandy. *she leans forward confidently* He couldn’t handle a woman such as m’good self anyway, doncha know. I would wear the poor lad out, wot! *men laugh*
OLD MAN: *nods knowingly* Ahh, I see. You fear the contest itself. You know not its nature and so you shy from it’s call.
RACEE: *stands in defiant manner* Fear, you say? Me? *laughs* I fear nothing! In particular I do not fear any contest of some pampered, royal milksop. *she looks about the table* Why, I could win this contest. *the men around the table nod their heads*
I could win this contest and the prince, of that I’ve no doubt. Bah, but what would I do with a prince? *she shakes her head and laughs*
OLD MAN: Well, well. Easily win the contest, you say? Hmmm, what would it be worth to you if . . . I could provide some insight into this . . . contest?
RACEE: You? What do you know of this thing, old man?
OLD MAN: *sings softly to Racee and the men around the table*
There’s an urn, so I’ve heard
And within’s what each contender,
Be they overweight or slender,
Wishes the prince would surrender.
So I’ve heard.
So if you, undeterred
By the sentries ‘round the palace
Did obtain this guarded chalise
You could t’ward the prince be callous
Undeterred
But I think that you are full of bluff
Pretending to be coarse and tough
I’m sure you’d like to be the one he chooses
And you’re not the type, I see, who often loses
And so I see your problem very clearly
If you lose . . .
Well, you wouldn’t lose,
But if you win . . . ah, you’d have a man who loves you dearly
And that’s sincerely . . .
Something that you’re likely never to accept.
*speaking* Now tell me lass, am I right?
RACEE: *with a contemptuous look on her face she sings*
I’ll get this urn, this chalice,
This thing that’s in the palace
Whatever secret that it holds inside
I’ll bring it here and then, I must confide,
Despite the fact that I’ll then know the game
The feelings that I have will stay the same -
I will not care a single bit at all
To attend the prince’s showy ball
For I’ve no need of any man at all!
OLD MAN: *looks skeptically at Racee* I see, lass. Well, as you like it then. Obtaining that chalice, however, will be some feat indeed.
*the old man limps out the door of the tavern and into the street*
MULTHAR: *stands and tries to look gallant despite food in his beard* Har, har.
You don’t need no prince, Racee! Why would ye when ye’ve got ol’ Multhar, eh?
CROWETH: *trips over a chair as he approaches Racee and falls to the floor where he calls out* Take me, Racee. I’ll satisfy yer needs, lass! *he belches loudly from the floor and everyone laughs*
RACEE: *smiling* You belching, ale-swilling stinkers? You’re no different than all the rest. Hah! Men! *she throws her hands up and walks away then abruptly turns back to the men who gape at her raptly* Let me tell you what I really think fellers . . . *she begins to sing*
Once long ago while I was traveling about
I happened upon quite a row.
Three men were attempting, with stout wooden clubs,
To land on each other a blow.
When asked of the reason they’d started this scrap
They paused for a moment and then,
They shrugged, raised their clubs and resumed their attack
And shouted, “I guess ‘cause we’re men!”
*speaking* Are you beginnin’ t’see where I’m headed with this gents?
*singing*
Uncouth and unclean -
Always rude and obscene -
And none are too keen
If you know what I mean
An ale-drinking, unthinking, unkempt machine . . .
Who needs a world full of men?!
*she walks around the table, running her hands through Multhar’s hair as she passes him*
Once out on a mission with three sturdy lads
We came on a gathered orc horde
I made the suggestion that we turn about,
But I was hastily ignored
I whispered a warning as they drew their swords,
Prepared to charge into the glen,
“Use stealth and good tactics,” I pleaded. They said,
“Why should we? You know that we’re men!”
Uncouth and unclean -
Always rude and obscene -
And none are too keen
If you know what I mean
An ale-drinking, unthinking, unkempt machine . . .
Who needs a world full of men!?
*she pours the remnants of a wine bottle over Croweth who laps at it greedily*
Oh, why would I want to engage in a scene
Where one might think I tolerated a being
Who, for common sense, is the very vaccine!?!?
Yes, who needs a world full of men!?
Not I!
Who needs a world full of men!?
Not I!
Who needs a wooooorld . . .
full of meeeeeeeeeeen!?
*The men laugh and make arduous pleas with their bodies. Racee laughs and sits back down with a contemplative look.*
RACEE: I should get that chalice just to show the old man. *heads nod* If anyone can, surely it would be me. What do you think boys? Shall I do it?
*The men shout YES loudly. Racee drains her ale, slaps Croweth on the back and walks out of the tavern.
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.
Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith
Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith
Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
-
Ladellon
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 155
- Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
- Location: just north of Leadfeather
ACT II, SCENE I
(It is near midnight and Racee is outside the castle’s wall. She prepares to ascend the wall and enter the castle.)
*Racee stands by the wall and swings a rope with a hook into the air - it catches overhead. She pulls the rope taut and begins to climb very slowly as she grumbles to herself.*
RACEE: Racee, what are you doing? Climbing a wall to a prince’s bedroom? Have you lost your senses? He’s a man, for the love of Tyr.
*a somewhat dreamy look comes over Racee as she halts on the rope for a moment*
Ah, a man. Wouldn’t that be something? Me, a common thief and . . . and a prince.
*She sighs deeply then suddenly shakes free from her reverie. She frowns and begins to ascend again, singing softly*
This son of the queen
Is most likely a teen
And prob’ly the ugliest
Thing that I’ve seen.
Can it be that this prince is aught but just mean?
Nah!
Who needs his world full of men!?
*she gives a dismissive snort and pulls herself up the rope quickly.
(It is near midnight and Racee is outside the castle’s wall. She prepares to ascend the wall and enter the castle.)
*Racee stands by the wall and swings a rope with a hook into the air - it catches overhead. She pulls the rope taut and begins to climb very slowly as she grumbles to herself.*
RACEE: Racee, what are you doing? Climbing a wall to a prince’s bedroom? Have you lost your senses? He’s a man, for the love of Tyr.
*a somewhat dreamy look comes over Racee as she halts on the rope for a moment*
Ah, a man. Wouldn’t that be something? Me, a common thief and . . . and a prince.
*She sighs deeply then suddenly shakes free from her reverie. She frowns and begins to ascend again, singing softly*
This son of the queen
Is most likely a teen
And prob’ly the ugliest
Thing that I’ve seen.
Can it be that this prince is aught but just mean?
Nah!
Who needs his world full of men!?
*she gives a dismissive snort and pulls herself up the rope quickly.
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.
Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith
Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith
Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
-
Ladellon
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 155
- Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
- Location: just north of Leadfeather
ACT II, SCENE II
(The prince’s bedroom)
*Racee treads softly across the room, stopping occasionally and glancing to either side. She notices the bed to the right and moves stealthily toward it. Someone is lying asleep on the bed.*
*Racee reaches the bed and checks to either side with great care. She bends to one side and rises with a glittering chalice and a broad smile. As she holds the chalice up to the moonlight, the sleeping prince opens his eyes and glances at Racee without her noticing*
*He quickly closes his eyes as Racee leans over the bed to get a better look at the prince. She tilts her head to the side and examines him thoroughly for a moment and then sings softly.*
I thought that this prince was a coddled young brat
Spoiled through by his palace and wealth.
Yet now I’m presented a further review
All thanks to good fortune and stealth
It’s obvious he is much more than I’d heard
And startling how wrong I have been
He looks to be handsome, courageous, and strong
A fine sample of all the men!
*she walks back toward the rope while glancing back at the prince*
Gallant and polite
Always stands in the right
He seems a delight
As he slumbers tonight
A sweet smelling, orc felling, well-armored knight . . . *she sighs deeply*
Oh, I’d love a world with this man.
*Racee dances as if with the prince, holding the chalice before he. She finishes with a pretend curtsey and walks out of the bedroom.*
*The prince suddenly kicks off his covers and rises. He is dressed as the crippled man from the market and the tavern. He quickly pulls on a false beard, grabs a twisted wooden cane and rushes from the room through the door*
(The prince’s bedroom)
*Racee treads softly across the room, stopping occasionally and glancing to either side. She notices the bed to the right and moves stealthily toward it. Someone is lying asleep on the bed.*
*Racee reaches the bed and checks to either side with great care. She bends to one side and rises with a glittering chalice and a broad smile. As she holds the chalice up to the moonlight, the sleeping prince opens his eyes and glances at Racee without her noticing*
*He quickly closes his eyes as Racee leans over the bed to get a better look at the prince. She tilts her head to the side and examines him thoroughly for a moment and then sings softly.*
I thought that this prince was a coddled young brat
Spoiled through by his palace and wealth.
Yet now I’m presented a further review
All thanks to good fortune and stealth
It’s obvious he is much more than I’d heard
And startling how wrong I have been
He looks to be handsome, courageous, and strong
A fine sample of all the men!
*she walks back toward the rope while glancing back at the prince*
Gallant and polite
Always stands in the right
He seems a delight
As he slumbers tonight
A sweet smelling, orc felling, well-armored knight . . . *she sighs deeply*
Oh, I’d love a world with this man.
*Racee dances as if with the prince, holding the chalice before he. She finishes with a pretend curtsey and walks out of the bedroom.*
*The prince suddenly kicks off his covers and rises. He is dressed as the crippled man from the market and the tavern. He quickly pulls on a false beard, grabs a twisted wooden cane and rushes from the room through the door*
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.
Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith
Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith
Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
-
Ladellon
- Dire Badger
- Posts: 155
- Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
- Location: just north of Leadfeather
ACT III – SCENE I
(at the Crooked Noose)
*the men from before are at the table as Racee strides in with an air of great confidence and sings boldly*
((to the tune of “You Did It” from My Fair Lady))
RACEE: Tonight, you lads, I did it!
I did it! I did it!
You didn’t doubt I’d do it,
And indeed I did.
You never thought I’d rue it;
but shouted me on through it.
And now you must admit it
That succeed I did.
I should get a medal
for bringing back the chalice.
All alone I overcame
Each hurdle in the palace.
As sturdy as the Dragonpeaks,
I’ve gotten what each wooer seeks.
There’s no doubt about it,
I did it!
I must have aged a year tonight.
ascending that palatial height.
Never was there a momentary lull
Upon the roof when I’d arrived
and realized that I’d survived
The remainder of the evening was dreadfully dull.
And then I met the prince, oh yes.
He was asleep, as you might guess,
And seeing him . . . I must confess *she trails off with a wistful look*
*the men stare at her in wonder and then someone shouts*
CROWETH: You did it!
*Racee shakes her head and sings again*
RACEE: Yes, I did it! I did it!
I said that I would do it
And indeed I did!
*she places the chalice upon the table and lifts an ale in celebration. The crippled and bent old man from before hobbles up to the table with an admiring look in his eye. He claps politely at Racee as the men order more ale to celebrate*
OLD MAN: *with anticipation* Well, dearie, what is the secret? What is within the chalice?
RACEE: *scoffs* Nothing, old man. Just a fancy wine cup. It holds no secret. The prince has no contest and you . . . you are a poor excuse of a seer.
OLD MAN: *smiling slightly* Oh, doesn’t it? *he places the chalice on the table nest to a glowing lantern and walks away, glancing back*
*Racee absentmindedly glances at the chalice, then takes a second, harder look. She moves closer and lifts the chalice, peering at it closely, reading aloud . . .*
RACEE: Radiant and charming, endearingly engaging. You must be my wife. *puzzled look* Well, that says nothing. Whomever would win this cup at the contest would claim the prize of “wife,” of course.
OLD MAN: Read it again, but slowly this time, Racee.
RACEE: *reads slowly* Radiant . . . and . . . charming . . . endearingly . . . engaging. You must be my wife. *then to the men around the table* Oh, this makes no sense.
OLD MAN: The key is in the inscription. Read it again.
RACEE: *reads slowly*
Radiant
And
Charming
Endearingly
Engaging.
You must be my wife.
*to the audience* Does anyone have any idea what this is about?
*the old man pulls off his false beard and worn clothes to reveal himself as the handsome and robust prince*
PRINCE: It is I, Racee, beloved. The prince. I have often taken the guise of an old man to observe the sentiment of the citizens. A chance encounter in the streets one day as you aided an old woman and I have been an admirer ever since. You truly care for the people of this realm. You put your own aspirations aside to assist the very people whom I have promised to protect and serve. And yet, by the events of tonight, you display great courage and even an appealing independent quality. As inscribed on the chalice - radiant and charming endearingly engaging. You must be my wife.
RACEE: *recovers from her initial surprise and walks around the table* So, I have won the challenge? Hmmm. I have won the prize? Hmmm. Radiant, charming, engaging – all applicable and flattering words, of course. Hmmm.
*she turns to the prince and suddenly bursts out*
RACEE: Shall I be allowed to continue visiting my favorite fruit vendor?
*the prince nods with a smile*
RACEE: Done! I accept! *she runs to the prince and flings herself into his arms, kissing him.*
*Racee turns to the tavern patrons and, amidst the laughter and shouting, sings a final verse*
Perceptive and rife
With the riches of life.
Together we’ll share
Both our comforts and strife
I’ll willingly, ardently become his wiiiiiiife.
For how could I live in a woooooorrrrrld . . .
Without this maaaaaaan?
*she walks offstage arm in arm with the prince*
THE END
(at the Crooked Noose)
*the men from before are at the table as Racee strides in with an air of great confidence and sings boldly*
((to the tune of “You Did It” from My Fair Lady))
RACEE: Tonight, you lads, I did it!
I did it! I did it!
You didn’t doubt I’d do it,
And indeed I did.
You never thought I’d rue it;
but shouted me on through it.
And now you must admit it
That succeed I did.
I should get a medal
for bringing back the chalice.
All alone I overcame
Each hurdle in the palace.
As sturdy as the Dragonpeaks,
I’ve gotten what each wooer seeks.
There’s no doubt about it,
I did it!
I must have aged a year tonight.
ascending that palatial height.
Never was there a momentary lull
Upon the roof when I’d arrived
and realized that I’d survived
The remainder of the evening was dreadfully dull.
And then I met the prince, oh yes.
He was asleep, as you might guess,
And seeing him . . . I must confess *she trails off with a wistful look*
*the men stare at her in wonder and then someone shouts*
CROWETH: You did it!
*Racee shakes her head and sings again*
RACEE: Yes, I did it! I did it!
I said that I would do it
And indeed I did!
*she places the chalice upon the table and lifts an ale in celebration. The crippled and bent old man from before hobbles up to the table with an admiring look in his eye. He claps politely at Racee as the men order more ale to celebrate*
OLD MAN: *with anticipation* Well, dearie, what is the secret? What is within the chalice?
RACEE: *scoffs* Nothing, old man. Just a fancy wine cup. It holds no secret. The prince has no contest and you . . . you are a poor excuse of a seer.
OLD MAN: *smiling slightly* Oh, doesn’t it? *he places the chalice on the table nest to a glowing lantern and walks away, glancing back*
*Racee absentmindedly glances at the chalice, then takes a second, harder look. She moves closer and lifts the chalice, peering at it closely, reading aloud . . .*
RACEE: Radiant and charming, endearingly engaging. You must be my wife. *puzzled look* Well, that says nothing. Whomever would win this cup at the contest would claim the prize of “wife,” of course.
OLD MAN: Read it again, but slowly this time, Racee.
RACEE: *reads slowly* Radiant . . . and . . . charming . . . endearingly . . . engaging. You must be my wife. *then to the men around the table* Oh, this makes no sense.
OLD MAN: The key is in the inscription. Read it again.
RACEE: *reads slowly*
Radiant
And
Charming
Endearingly
Engaging.
You must be my wife.
*to the audience* Does anyone have any idea what this is about?
*the old man pulls off his false beard and worn clothes to reveal himself as the handsome and robust prince*
PRINCE: It is I, Racee, beloved. The prince. I have often taken the guise of an old man to observe the sentiment of the citizens. A chance encounter in the streets one day as you aided an old woman and I have been an admirer ever since. You truly care for the people of this realm. You put your own aspirations aside to assist the very people whom I have promised to protect and serve. And yet, by the events of tonight, you display great courage and even an appealing independent quality. As inscribed on the chalice - radiant and charming endearingly engaging. You must be my wife.
RACEE: *recovers from her initial surprise and walks around the table* So, I have won the challenge? Hmmm. I have won the prize? Hmmm. Radiant, charming, engaging – all applicable and flattering words, of course. Hmmm.
*she turns to the prince and suddenly bursts out*
RACEE: Shall I be allowed to continue visiting my favorite fruit vendor?
*the prince nods with a smile*
RACEE: Done! I accept! *she runs to the prince and flings herself into his arms, kissing him.*
*Racee turns to the tavern patrons and, amidst the laughter and shouting, sings a final verse*
Perceptive and rife
With the riches of life.
Together we’ll share
Both our comforts and strife
I’ll willingly, ardently become his wiiiiiiife.
For how could I live in a woooooorrrrrld . . .
Without this maaaaaaan?
*she walks offstage arm in arm with the prince*
THE END
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.
Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith
Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith
Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
-
Mikayla
- Valsharess of ALFA
- Posts: 3707
- Joined: Sat Jan 03, 2004 5:37 pm
- Location: Qu'ellar Faen Tlabbar, Noble Room 7, Menzoberranzan, NorthUnderdark
Laddy, you ARE ALFA's Bard, pure and simple. LOVE it. If I ever manage a PC rogue/bardish type she is going to be an actress/singer for your plays - so keep writing. Awesome - some of the best, most creative IC stuff ALFA has seen.
ALFA1-NWN1: Sheyreiza Valakahsa
NWN2: Layla (aka Aliyah, Amira, Snake and others) and Vellya
NWN1-WD: Shein'n Valakasha
NWN2: Layla (aka Aliyah, Amira, Snake and others) and Vellya
NWN1-WD: Shein'n Valakasha