Suddenly the door burst open and a woman strode into the tavern. She was striking. Tall. Blonde. Flashing blue eyes. They were flashing-- literally flashing, which is really not normal at all. Of course if her eyes hadn’t been flashing, I wouldn’t have noticed them. There was all that bare skin to distract me. She wore a leather outfit that was more of a harness that an article of clothing. The lower portion was a sort of loose leather skirt made of strips of material which, though hanging down almost to her ankles, exposed most of her legs when she moved. The upper portion was little more than pair of suspenders and two small leather cups.
“Which of you low-lives is Eaglethorpe Buxton?” she snarled.
I stood up and stepped toward her, at this point still more aware of all the bare skin than either the flashing eyes or the glowing wand in her hand.
“What would you have with him, my lovely lady?” I asked.
“I am Myolaena Maetar, and I’m going to skin him alive!” she hissed through clenched teeth.“I, um, oh. Well, he was here a minute ago,” said I. “You just missed him.”