"How's the weather now Inga?"

"Same"

I adjust a few more dials on the weather controller. "How about now?"

"Same"

I kick the flux regulator and it springs into life. Then I flip the switch on the emitter array. "Now?"

"Same"

"Well, crap. The weather controller just isn't going to cut it. I'll have to reprogram the whole system to compensate for unnatrual influences. What's causing all this winter weather anyhow?"

Inga hands me a report. "After a lot of Googling, I think it is a curse using a frozen sphere of Azagoth to conduct the power of an ice dragon heart."

I put down the report, I don't like reading all this "magic" stuff, it might as well just be blah, blah, blah, presto desto, blah, blah. "So how do we stop it?"

"We have to stop the ice dragon heart from beating. Only thing is that it's a frozen wasteland in the dimension of Thymeria underground past a city of undead and..."

"No problem. I'll design some robots to take care of it, they'll go through undead like a hot knife. You know, some people actually think Zombies are better than robots, I never could understand what the..."

"Problem sir."

"Problem?"

"Thymeria is one of those dimensions where technology doesn't work very well."

I ponder this for a moment. "No problem, we'll just hire somebody to handle it. Post some want ads for contract employment of adventurers."

"The first applicant is here for his interview, sir" buzzes Inga over the intercom.

"Send him in."

She lets in a tall fellow with pointy ears wearing a bright blue suit. I stand up and shake his hand. "I'm Gudanov, it's nice to meet you Mr. Elf". I gesture to a chair and start the interview.

"I see you have a lot of experience in archery."

"Blue Elf needs food badly."

Not the comment I was looking for, but onward. "Okey, dokey. Is there a particular role you see yourself in when working with a band of adventurers?"

"Blue Elf is going to die soon."

"Grrrreat. You know, I think we've covered everything." I buzz Inga. "Please show Mr. Elf out and maybe get him a donut or something."

"Blue Elf needs food badly."

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!!

"Vinnie is here for his interview." Buzzes Inga.

"Send him on in." I reply.

The door opens, but I don't see Vinnie the elf anywhere. Standing up to look over my desks reveals that Vinnie is a very short fellow with pointy ears, a green coat, a green conical hat, and green shoes with curly toes.

"Please take a seat." I say.

Vinnie jumps up into a seat in front of my desk.

"I see that your employment experience falls mostly in the areas of toy building and reindeer grooming. Do you have any experience in the area of fighting trolls or the undead?" I ask while consulting Vinnie's resume.

"Last Christmas I fought orcs when Christmas Village was attacked."

"I see, still this seems like a major career change. Is there a reason you are looking for employment in the area of adventuring?"

"I've always felt I've had an strong adptitude for smiting my foes that I have been unable to put to use in the toy building profession."

"Do you have any skills or training that would be applicable for adventuring in a dangerous frozen wasteland populated my monsters and the undead?"

Vinnie doesn't miss a beat. "I have a lot of experience in frozen wastelands since I'm currently employed at the North Pole. Also, I have playtested a large variety of plastic swords and sucker tipped arrows."

"What would you say is your greatest strength and what is your greatest weakness?"

"I'd say my strength is being a team player with an optomistic attitude. As far as a weakness goes...." Vinnie thinks about it. "...I would say I have too strong a work ethic especially when it involves smiting."

"Well Vinnie, I'll admit that your skill set doesn't exactly match what we're looking for, but you show a very positive attitude. Thanks for coming by."

"Thank you for you time." Replies Vinnie.

I buzz Inga. "Please show Vinnie out."

"You next interview is here." Buzzes Inga. I hope this one is more promising than the first two.

The door opens to reveal a massive man in a nicely tailored pin stripe suit.

"Hello, I'm Gudanov, thank you for coming." I shake hands with him. He has a firm, business-like handshake. "Please take a seat."

I look over his resume again. "I see that you a barbarian Mr. Banks."

"Please, call me Bob. Yes, I've have considerable experience as a barbaric fighter."

"Good. Good. How would you see yourself fitting in with a group of adventurers?"

"I see myself as the primary offensive asset in melee combat."

"What sort of skills would you bring to that role?"

"I am highly proficient with using two axes in a destructive capacity and can employ a fighting technique I call a 'Blood Rage'".

"Could I see an example?"

Bob looks around the room. "I could attack that chair."

"Okay."

"I didn't bring my travel ax, perhaps I could borrow that C-38 tape dispenser."

"Certainly."

Bob picks up my 3M C-38 tape dispenser and attacks the chair with a fury than can only be described as barbaric, which only makes since for a barbarian. Within a few seconds the chair is reduced to a brutally mangled pile of kindling.

"Nice work Bob."

Bob replaces the C-38 tape dispenser on my desk. "Thank you."

"I think that will do it."

Bob stands up. "Thanks for you time. I hope to hearing from you in the future."

"I suspect you will."

I suspect someone's been reading the Genghis Khan book for managers. Or one of those Sun Tzu translations that popped up for business folk.

Because it needed to be done: Les résidants de Sang Sacré.

Gus, you're hysterical.

Gus, what I was actually trying for in the Old Quarter was Milo's Bar, not Milo. I think the apostrophe freaked it out.

Ooh. Made ita laugh. That makes for a good day.

DX, yup. You found a bug, which I have stomped. I think this happened to other people, like Plei and well, others, who tried to use an apostrophe. Mssrs. Javascript and PHP do not play well together on this item of punctuation, so all apostrophes are now being automagically replaced with gravés.

Because I am a lazy, arbitrary SOB, who cackles with glee at the discomforts of the linguistically pure.