The tavern wasn't nearly as full when several of the group had visited last. Though there were a small number of tables occupied, most of the chairs leaned on the hard wood, rounded surface that occupied the space they surrounded. 

The barkeep was startled when remnants of the door splintered in every which direction.  Being a barkeep, nothing seemed to startle him all that much. Terror flooded his features as he ducked behind the bar. Typically tavern owners don't want much trouble, it's bad for business. So they're up for defending the ale stained, rotting floor boards and rickety tables and chairs, right up until their last breath. But so much was going on in this town, right under their noses. They weren't used to magic, not of this caliber of destruction anyway. The storm was enough to make them close up shop for the evening, but he couldn't shut out those seeking refuge from its havoc. But with the house atop the hill collapsing and so many new faces in town over the last two days, it was more trouble than he cared for. Rightfully so, he wasn't expecting them to bulldoze the door down either. 

The barkeep was an older man, typically jolly with his customers. But to those who knew him, he was the cautious type, the business type. So it wouldn't have surprised them that he hand an ax hidden within the shelves behind the bar. Small enough to stow away without his customers noticing, but dangerous enough to do damage to trouble makers who couldn't take a hint. It was out of terror that he grabbed his ax. After the surprise over the shattered door had melted away, he jolted upright, ax in hand. "Whadda ya want! We got nuttin here fer ya trouble makers" His pupils were dilated, his palms sweated heavily around the shaft of his weapon. He might have been holding it backwards, his nerves were quite on edge, and his attention solely on those who had busted down his door.