Author's Note: Anyway, as for the actual Short this time around, it probably won't make any sense unless you're familliar with the work of Adam Miller. Which you should be. I mean, really, the hell is wrong with you people? But considering his newest module Demon was just released recently, I thought it might be nice to do something like this, which is completely spoiler free for all of his work, should you be worried. Plus, I've been wanting to write these guys since forever, even if it was tricky. As for the scenario, hell, we've all been there, I'm sure. It's why I'm nearly a multiplayer virgin.

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" . . . and all I'm saying," Doyenne said calmly, arms folded, "is you need to look at this from a profitable point of view. People respect power, and power without guidance or aim is evil, and evil for evil's sake is just foolishness. And so, you see," she went on, draping an arm around Nooble's shoulders and turning him gently but firmly towards the dancer in the middle of the room, "taking what you want in this instance is merely asserting your dominance over an otherwise unruly pack. You're simply pruning . . . and obtaining yourself some likeable entertainment in the process."

"I . . . suppose that makes . . . some form of sense." Doubt that was evident when Nooble met her gaze evaporated slightly when he looked at the dancer again. The flickering firelight in the room painted a virbant sheen on her barely-clothed torso as she thrashed, mostly ignored by the chatting nobles. He swallowed visibly and adjusted his belt. "But won't she object?"

"Object?" Letting loose a trilling laugh that caused several people to look around curiously, Doyenne covered her mouth with one hand, heavily jewelled rings winking in the light. "Dear boy, whyever would she object? On some level, we all of us yearn to be shown true power, and to be possessed. I can assure you, even if she did object, a few tears along the way are a small price to pay for one's own great happiness, don't you agree?"

The truth was, on some level, what Doyenne said made perfect sense. What she said was so unlike what he'd been told all his life, yet the kind, encouraging smile she wore was not unlike the one the priest had worn back in Scornubel when explaining a particularily difficult lesson. He smiled slightly and she grinned in return, squeezing his bicep. "There's a good fellow. We've all the time in the world to search Hill's Edge, I'm certain, so why don't you -- "

"Doyenne?"

The smile slipped only an instant before Doyenne managed to hoist it back into place, looking around politely. "Yes? . . . ah. Yes, Anera, dear, what is it?"

Looking more uncomfortable than usual, Anera took three quick steps closer to the two of them from where she'd been standing anxiously nearby. Her usual manner of calm detachment was gone, and colour flared in her cheeks. "I . . . Doyenne, I do appreciate you agreeing to take me along, you know I do."

Doyenne tucked her long hands into the sleeves of her robe. "If you are having second thoughts, I completely -- "

Anera threw up her hands instantly. "No! No, not at all . . . it's just . . . ah . . . " Glancing about uncomfortably, she leaned in closer to Doyenne and spoke in a low undertone. " . . . this . . . fellow you found to be my partner? He, um . . . where did you say you found him?"

"In the local tavern. He seemed quite eager to be of assistance." Doyenne said, exchanging a sly smile with a passing nobleman. "Why do you ask?"

Anera looked surprised. "He . . . he isn't foreign, then?"

"Not to my knowledge. He had the look of a farmboy to pass for a local, in any case." Doyenne raised an eyebrow. "Is something bothering you, Anera?"

"N-ooooo . . . not as such. And, really, Doyenne, I don't mean to be a bother, interrupting you with this." Anera shot a worried glance in Nooble's direction. He seemed to be occupied with something in the center of the room, however, expression distant and thoughtful, arms folded. "But, Doyenne, I'm not sure how exactly you expect us to work together when I . . . well, when I can't understand him! Maybe . . . " she added, suddenly hopeful, "maybe I could partner with Nooble, instead, for this excursion, and you could -- "

"What precisely is it about him that you do not understand, Anera?" Doyenne asked quietly, moving a step closer to Nooble.

Now looking frustrated more than anything else, Anera balled her hands into fists and banged them on her thighs, metal gauntlets ringing against chainmail. "It's just . . . I don't think he's taking this seriously, Doyenne, I truly think he is not! I keep trying to focus our search, but he keeps interrupting my train of thought, asking for my . . . my asl!"

"What is an asl?" Doyenne asked, curious.

"I don't know," Anera sighed, "I don't know any of what he's talking about! I also don't know where he managed to find that Astral Blade, nor that Red Dragon Scale Armor! There's naught but a bowyer around here for miles, and the local smithy could hardly create something like that! And he keeps going on about Feats and Points, and gods know what else! And, Doyenne . . . I think he's more interested in trying to touch me inappropriately than he is with finding out who's behind this whole mess!" she finished, in a scandalised hiss.

"Well, you know, young men these days . . . " Doyenne said, gesturing vaguely. When Anera only continued to scowl, she sighed. "Very well. I shall speak with him, later . . . where is young master Badazz Killermasta, anyway?"

"I don't know," Anera said, uncharacteristically peevish, "but I shall go and look for him, if you really will try to impress upon him the gravity of our situation." She spun on her foot and marched off, arms swinging purposefully.

Doyenne watched her go with a slight grimace. On the floor, the music stopped, and the dancer ceased her undulations briefly, to scattered, absent-minded applause. Apparently having made up his mind, Nooble took a step forward, only to have Doyenne snatch his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. He looked down at her in surprise. "Doyenne, I thought you said--"

"I am in the mood," she said cooly, "for ice cream. I fear my evening is about to become uncomfortably cramped." She steered him firmly towards the door, mouth set in a grim line.

After dragging his feet a few steps and casting wistful looks over his shoulder at the dancer, who had returned to her routine, this time with almost frenetic abandon, he reluctantly allowed himself to be lead out the door into the cool night air. "I don't know why you'd want to bother . . . " After a glance at her face, he added, quickly, "although I suppose it does sound good about now. What flavour did you have in mind?"

"The usuals, preferably. Chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, children . . . "

" . . . wait, what was that last one?"

"Vanilla." She smiled beatifically up at him and patted his arm. "Honestly, Nooble, dear, do try to pay attention to things. I have a lot to teach you, after all."