<div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/5b/Stock-photo-medieval-girl-shoots-a-crossbow-59143561.jpg)</div>Susan Skythorn<br/><br/>Even as the note was being put up, the door opened again and a green cloaked figure slipped in out of the rain.  She was petite for a human—five foot three and almost slim as an elf.  Throwing back the cloak in the warm and dry of the tavern revealed a young woman with smooth skin and adorable dimples, shapely body clad in well fitted red and white.  Fiery hair fell down her back to disappear beneath the cloak.  On her many pouched belt there was a hand axe in a ring and a crossbow in a case.<br/><br/>Once she was in enough not to block the door, the redhead took her time surveying the scene, eyes lingering over the appealing form of the dancer before coming to linger on the message.  She approached the note once it was tacked up, regarding it thoughtfully, then nodded decisively.<br/><br/>It was a scene she’d seen plenty of times at the inn where she’d worked back home—usually from the other side.  ‘Til now, she’d made her own living as a caravan guard—a job slightly less dangerous and far less lucrative.  The redhead moved to the table of the man who’d set up the sign and leaned on the back of the chair.  “Master Turnstone?” she inquired, “Susan Skythorn, may I join you?”<br/>