The Stag was a lovely family place, or at least Tirarian had been told. 
"Go to the Stag," she had been told
"Fantastic tippers." they had said.
What they didn't mention was fantastic entertainment. First the drama of a group of thugs making the eternal mistake of thinking they had one over a wizard, (you NEVER have one over a wizard) and now a bar brawl! All whilst playing her flute the Gnome leaped upon a table and started kicking the food and drinks at nearby patrons, before leaping to the next to do the same thing. 
Her small size enabled her to do so without knocking over the table, and soon she was just a part of the thriving mess that was the bar fight. Headlocks left right and centre, an elf woman weaving in and out between flailing arms and flying drunkards, taking purses from whoever seemed not-fit enough to protect themselves. They all realised the guard would be here soon, which Mr. Tinder kept reminding them by bellowing over the whole mess, but they'd be damned if they weren't going to have some fun first.

Tirarian started hopping from table to table in the direction of the broken wall, at the very least she could see what was going to happen to the wizard