A simple bar brawl

“Don’t know why I’m here, why I agreed to any of this!” Phizzwup the Goblin muttered as he sat in the bar of the human tavern in Goldshire.
A large finger still wrapped in the cloak that consumed the large figure sat at his left prodded a small pouch that jingled like money.
Oh yes, that was why he’d agreed, his ‘Friend’ had paid him well. He sighed, finished his mug of ale and placed it next to his ‘friend’s’. With a cough he attracted the attention of the human barkeep who sauntered down the bar towards them. With a quick glance spared to the goblin’s immense cloaked companion, he smiled at the goblin.
“Anything else I can get you sir?” He asked with a toothy and leering grin.
“Tonight I have been hired as above all else an interpreter. You understand the term?” At a nod the Goblin continued wearily withdrawing a bag of coins. “This” he held up a copper coin. “Is for my drink” he placed it theatrically on the bar. “This” he held up another “Is for my friend’s drink” it joined its’ colleague on the beer stained bar. “And this“ He held up a silver coin glinting in the light as it too hit the surface of the bar “Is for the damages.”
The Barman frowned.
“And what damages do you and your friend think you’ve caused?” He asked.
A loud chuckle reverberated around the bar silencing the busy hubbub and the clink of mobile tankards.
The barkeep, and the bar’s, attention was pulled towards the large cloaked figure as it stood. Standing, Phizzwup thought, was less the appropriate term as growing. The figure seemed to flow upwards until it came to about an inch or so below the tall ceiling and the cloak slipped to the floor.
Barely reaching up the Tauren unhooked an oil lamp from the ceiling and used it to light the silverleaf cigar that was clamped in his easy grin. It startled Phizzwup when he realised that everything about his companion from the broad steel shoulder plates, the strange leathery mail shirt, the casually dangling axes at his hips and the gleaming Thorium rifle that was holstered across his back, emphasised the sheer size of the figure.
Stretching his fingers with a crackle of straining leather he gazed serenely about the bar as wide-eyed and open-mouthed silence stared back at him. He tapped out a little ash from his cigar and the room watched it fall to the clean oak floor.
That little piece of vandalism sparked the shocked mob into action and fury. First a mug then a chair flew towards the broad target as he danced left and right away from the careless aim of his aggressors.
The great fists swung out in rapid jabs and sweeps as men and dwarves ducked and flew out of the danger zone in a roar of violence.
Phizzwup ducked under the collapsing form of a gnome whose chest was barely big enough to support the hoof print freshly embedded on his leather chest plate as it swung through the air on its’ way to the window.
Sliding under a table as the relentless sound of meat hitting meat and breaking wood assaulted his ears. Despite himself he was pleased, he’d excelled at another deal, no way would a sole silver cover the damage costs this place was accruing! The table above him creaked alarmingly as a dwarfed crashed into it, his head swung down face first over the table edge and he groggily squinted at the Goblin.
“Ere, you’re that tauren’s friend …” He started but Phizzwup applied a discarded pewter tankard to the Dwarf’s face to forestall any further conversation.
“Need to move” He told himself and ventured out on his hands and knees into the melee. Scuttling from table to table he saw that the amount of conscious combatants was dwindling and then there was one.
The human had drawn a knife and the Tauren looked at it laughing. The human grinned confidently and shifted the knife from one hand to the other. The Tauren returned the smile and hit the Human with a table.
Phizzwup ducked out from under his table and to the door. In the darkness outside he saw the hurrying forms of Militiamen closing on the tavern.
“Fryeshan, Militia’s coming!” He yelled and ducked out into the night.
As he headed down the road out of town the remains of the Tavern’s window exploded as the Fryeshan left the building. He landed deftly on his hoofed feet and began to charge after the Goblin. At the sight of a blatant member of the Horde in their town the Militia increased their speed.
As the Tauren Hunter thundered down the road, his loping strides shrinking the distance between the goblin and himself he whistled long and tunelessly. A large shadow broke from in between two out houses and lumbered into the road picking up speed as it went. The great grey kodo named ‘Thorium’ (Apparently ‘Silver’ had been taken) looked like a ghostly house as it lumbered up to speed down the road after the fleeing Tauren and Goblin.
As Thorium charged past Fryeshan he pulled himself up into the saddle, scooping up the errant Goblin as they passed him. Settled into his saddle he placed the shivering green merchant in front of him and took the reins. He reduced the kodo’s speed as soon as he was sure the pursuit had stopped.
Letting the rolling gait and the sudden loss of adrenaline calm his rapid heart the goblin turned to look at the grinning Tauren.
“I suppose you thought that was fun?” Phizzwup asked.
“Yep!” Fryeshan grinned back through the bruises, the burning cigar still perched between his lips.
“You’re mad! You do know that don’t you?” The Goblin asked.
The sound of the Tauren’s deep rolling laughter followed the kodo into the darkness of the night.