A party of adventurers walks into a bar.

Cass yanked a chair from the nearest empty table and straddled it, gazing around the room in disdain. "Not the classiest place you could have brought us, El," she sneered. One leg, clad in black leather not designed to hide its shapeliness, began to jiggle impatiently as she looked for someone from whom she could order ale. Her appearance screamed 'Look at me!', from the black curls that hung halfway down her back, to the cleavage she thrust out before her, to the gleaming sword slung casually from her hip - everything proclaimed she was something to be reckoned with.

"Elghored, Cassandra, please. I do not like the use of diminutives, especially in given names. And I believe you know very well this establishment was not of my choosing. When I was recruited, mostly likely in much the same manner as you, I was told to meet with each of you and bring you here. Our employer is to join us directly. You may then complain to him, if you wish." The elf seated himself at the table and raised on hand slightly, immediately catching the attention of a serving girl across the room.