A tall, brown-furred pandaren woman steps into the tavern, links of chainmail jingling as she makes her way over toward the counter; not without making a few appraising glances at the various couplings quite blatantly fucking in the middle of the crowded establishment.  A long braid of hair sways with each step, the end brushing over her shapely, leather-and-mail-clad rear as she nears an open spot at the counter- not far at all from the other pandaren enjoying herself with the worgen, though any glances toward them are spared only toward the other pandaren's bountiful chest.<br/>The yet-unnamed newcomer folds her arms under her own chest, leaning on them as she relaxes for a moment at the counter.  Anyone in front of her would be greeted with a quite generous view of the traveler's cleavage, the pandaren sporting a loose, low-cut linen vest; only her bottommost assets seem to be armored.  How else is someone supposed to keep cool in these godforsaken jungle climates?<br/>The woman blows a stray bit of hair from her face, showing a slight grin at a goblin waitress before electing to relax for a few moments on her own.  Not that it might be immediately noticeable, but her day's travels had build up quite an uncomfortable layer of sweat in the furs packed underneath her leather-bound armor.  With a sigh of relief she tugs her vest just a little looser; meanwhile, for anyone behind her, the pandaren can be seen noticeably swaying her hips slightly side to side- either an idle, unconscious gesture, or something far more pointedly tempting for the other patrons.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>