Goodfellas: Hangin' with Mr. Goldtooth
A Noskull Rierohl production

Time: 11:00pm
Location: Deep, deep within the Black Citadel of Owowstopitt, notorious home of the semi-retired Rage Sharks.
Reason: Interview with Johnny Goldtooth.
Odds on surviving said interview: 3-1 (10-1 if Noskull actually speaks).

Due to the extreme levels of privacy preferred by everybody's favourite bookie, Johnny Goldtooth, this interview was conducted without any cameras whatsoever. In fact, every camera dealer within a fifty mile radius of Johnny's chosen interview spot was killed, and their body parts were then sent to every other camera dealer in the realms as a message.

The Rage Sharks' conference room has been set up specifically for the interview, in that every single member of the team is standing in it, staring directly at poor poor Noskull. Seated across from him is Johnny himself. Due to my powerful lust for life, no description of the gangster will be attempted. Johnny is, however, comfortably smoking a cigar and dressed in the finest, softest, supple, buttery elfskin. Noskull, as always, is decked out in his now classic leisure suit.

Johnny Goldtooth: (voice garbled by magic spell) The rumours circulating about me are upsetting. The lack of income for me last season was upsetting. The speculation on my nationality are upsetting. You may ask me about these things. I may even answer one or two. Other things will, ah, be answered by the Sharks. (He looks over at The Crusher)

The Crusher: (7 feet tall, in blood-stained Chaos armour, and grinning at Noskull beneath his helmet) Kapow kapow, compadre.

JG: (deliberately ashing his cigar into a hollowed out elf skull) Now, then, Mr. Rierohl. Let's put an end to mindless speculation and irritating conjecture.

Noskull Rierohl: (composing himself, he reaches for a Dunghill cigarette) I…

JG: (Reaches suddenly across the table with a genuine elfbone lighter) Allow me. But do try to stop quivering…

NR: (sitting back, out of leaping range) Um…ah…er…what rumours did you want to discuss?

JG: Well, as everyone knows, I provide certain services.

NR: Er… mumble… services?

JG: I allow coaches in the league to place wagers on the various matches, but (looks directly at Noskull) I do NOT dirty my hands with money-lending. Ick. Also… (he hands Noskull a silk handkerchief)… do something about all that sweating, Mr. Rierohl.

NR: (wipes his forehead) Ah…er…grolch.

JG: Also… I wish to ask you something.

NR: Oh, go right ahead. (Noskull puts on his best "don't kill me" face)

JG: Do I look like a Chaos Dwarf to you? (Purely by unfortunate co-incidence, the main doors open and in march a couple of nasty, grizzled, evil looking little dwarves by the names of Caleb Crotchmangler, Li'l Ori, followed by the unmistakeable Funky Fleetfoot)

NR: (Gaze whipping over between Johnny Goldtooth and the new arrivals, he attempts the impossible task of 'Guessing the Correct Answer') Um, yes, no, er… I have to go yarp now….

Caleb Crotchmangler: (Gesturing at some of the Beastmen practicing their moves in the room, he puts his arm around Li'l Ori) Now then, you hang out here for a while, and try to learn something from these monsters. After all, you are an Ori, and you shouldn't forget it.

Li'l Ori: (Nodding sagely) I understand, uncle Caleb. (He lowers his head, takes aim at the rookie beastman Rend, and lets loose with a mighty KAPOW as he charges straight for him. Of course, he trips over the bent-over and spectacularly vomiting form of Noskull and promptly cracks open his own skull on the granite floor. Luckily, a loitering apothecary manages to make it over to him and re-bolt on the lid of his skull)

CC: (shaking his head and laughing with his coach, Funky) Once an Ori, always an Ori…

Funky Fleetfoot: Ayup. Get up, you rotten excuse for a Dwarf! (Funky looks over at the conference table, where Noskull has managed to drag himself back to his seat) Johnny! Long time no see! I hear you cashed in something fierce on that elven soc-hop a couple of weeks back! Glad to see that the Sharks are helping you collect full time, especially after that. Big Ag wasn't really able to spare much time to pitch in, what with his bad 'elf-knee' and all…

JG: No problem at all, Funky. Apart from a couple of particularly talented whiners, all the coaches have been very prompt with their payment. I've almost never had to use The Crusher's Courrier Service at all.

NR: … er… um…

JG: Ah, yes. Of course. The interview. I ask you again, do I look like a Chaos Dwarf?

NR: Um…no? (Noskull ducks under the desk, fearing immediate and awe-inspiring Armageddon)

JG: Could I be mistaken for a Chaos Dwarf coach?

NR: (In the Tiniest-Voice-Possible from under the desk) um…no?

JG: That's right. (Nodding) That's right. If you'll permit me, my good Mr. Rierohl, I'd like to sign off with a little message for those folks out there in the Eye….

NR: Oh, by all means. I actually have a scheduled faint for right about now anyw… (clunk!)

JG: (Stands up and walks over to where Funky, Caleb, Carlo the Despoiler, and Trogdor are playing a casual game of 'Stick the Halfling', using the original pre-empire rules) Remember, my good customers, that I need you to mark those games as started. Also, I'd advise against asking for refunds for any reason. Those make me upset. Unless, of course, you'd like to be paid in beatings. Then, we here at JG Enterprises and Importations would more than like to accommodate you. Oh, one last thing: Johnny likes his privacy.
So arrivaderci for now, be cruel to your enemies, and keep on sending me that cash!