Trip Gudrun up.

Gudrun leaps toward you and trips over her breeches, which have fallen down again and are tangled around her angles. She lands flat on her face in the dirty, sticky straw that coats the tavern floor. But worse is to come. You step out of her way with the grace of a dancer and, with the moment it takes her to recover her composure, whisk her breeches off her ankles, leaving her stuck before a crowd with no pants on and her green silk undies on display. How embarrassing for poor old Gudrun.

She springs to her feet and turns to face you, two pink roses blossoming in her north-pale cheeks. "Give those back at once, boy."

"Give what back? Oh, you mean your breeches."

"What else could I mean?"

"I don't know. Your dignity?" Your voice drops to a stage whisper. "If I were you I wouldn't call attention to the fact that you've got no pants on. Just a piece of advice. Cute undies, by the way."

The crowd chuckles. You're gradually winning them over to your side. Gudrun's face darkens. She stalks toward you, purring like a panther, preparing to strike again. You wave her breeches in the air like a matador's cape, teasing her with them, deliberately trying to annoy her as much as possible. When she lunges for the garments you twirl elegantly out of the way, making her stumble and almost trip over once more.

"Damn it! I'll have your hide for this!"

You look her up and down, considering her situation. Above her panties she's wearing a kind of leather corset thing, with shoulder pads and highlights of white bear fur. It compresses her tits together, giving her a deep cleavage, but it's still fairly intimidating to behold. Or at least it would be if she was wearing pants below it. Gudrun's already embarrassed, but you could make the situation just a little more uncomfortable for her.