Grimbi Grimbison drew himself up to his full height of four feet, ten inches and shoved his crossbow into the crotch of the six foot tall thug in front of him, “What was that you called me?”
Around the tavern floor was scattered coins and cards from the overturned table. “I called you a cheat, short-arse!” the thug screamed as he pulled a short sword from it’s scabbard.
“Now that is needlessly cruel,” Grimbi replied calmly. “I thought this tavern was a safe space.”
“Huh?” answered the now confused thug.
“I don’t mind being called a cheat. Namely because I was cheating. But anti-dwarven epithets are just being malicious in a way that doesn’t help the situation.”
“Epi-wha?” The thug was getting even more confused. Indeed, the shuffling and whispering by the other drinkers in the tavern gave the impression that they were having a hard time following Grimbi as well.
“I’m saying you could have just called me out as a cheater without disparaging my race.”
The thug lowered his sword and started scratching his head, “I suppose…”
Grimbi let loose with a crossbow bolt and there was a high pitched scream as his opponent fell to the floor grasping at his family jewels.