The barbarians were itching for a fight. Osgood could feel it in his bones.

“Who owns this fine establishment?” One of the men yelled.

“That would be me,” Osgood said, stepping on his footstool to get their attention.

“You?” The one guffawed. “We’ll, little man. I ask for free libations for my men!”

“Free, you say,” Osgood said. “I’m afraid I cannot sustain a business by giving free drinks.”

The barbarians chortled.

“Is that so? Well you’ll give us free drinks or you’ll have a lot more than that to pay for!”

The thug picked up a tankard and crushed it with one hand.

The barbarians didn’t count on a gnome pub owner who was also a shape-shifter. Within seconds they were facing a giant bear.

Later, mopping up, the gnome tutted. “I do have to stop getting blood on these hard wood floors!”