Yet another one last job

There is no such thing as an easy job. If you think you've been given an easy job, either you're an idiot who's about to become a dead idiot, or you've accidentally signed on to become the tea-person at a book club.
Rumble looked around. Sitting on the chairs and stools around him were the Who's Whom of dirtbags, villains, and 2-bit thieves of the Valley. It was almost certainly not book club. Black Penny sat at the bar, carefully picking at her nails with a dagger. Instead of cleaning them, she was using the tip of the dagger to push a nasty oily substance below the nail. Satisfied with her work, she began to paint her nails to cover up any sign of the poison. Sitting next to her was Roofas the Troll. Roofas has drained his beer, and was now slowly eating the mug, and no one was about to tell him not to.
Rumble was keeping his eye on a pair sitting at a table in the corner. Their hoods pulled low over their faces said "mysterious adventurers", but the soapstone unholy symbol around their necks said "agents of the Frog God", and their order of 2 steaks each, well done, with a glass of white wine said "we have no manners and probably upset the chef".
Rumble wasn't alone, however. Barclay "The Hammer" was out back, pretending to tie the horses up. In truth, he was subtly dabbing some sovereign glue on the ties and hitches of the other patron's mounts. Hamilton "Angel Eye" was in the far corner of the bar, a pair of repeating hand crossbows hidden beneath his robes. In a booth directly behind him, Katherine "Hellfire" was quietly chewing her way through her third serve of sausages. Rumble would have liked a dozen more men, a better location, and a tray of biscuits. Sadly, this wasn't book club. It was a mission, and it was about to go down, one way or another. He reached inside his coat, and gripped the hilt of his cudgel.
"Hey Barkeep!"
The room was silent. It hadn't been very noisy before (apart from Roofus slowly chewing his way through his second mug), but now Rumble could feel everyone's eyes on him. Rumble was in his seventies, human with a hint of gnome in his past that he imagined gave him his burning need for danger.
"Yes?" asked the barkeep, his mandibles quivering "More sausages?"
Rumble shook his head slowly.
"You ever think about retiring, barkeep? Shutting this place down, and getting out of dodge before things go south?"
The barkeep twitched his antennae, and Rumble knew that he knew which way the wind was blowing.
The barkeep rubbed his forelegs together, betraying just a hint of nervousness "I think I'll go get some more sausages. From the back."
Rumble watched him go. It was now or never.
"By order of the Lord of Mosswood, Shades Highroost, you're under arrest for crimes against the Valley, its citizens and property. Come quietly now"
An elf leaning against a pillar spat noisily. "Who're you talking to, old man?"
Rumble glanced around, and considered for a moment. "Pretty much all of you. Except you Roofas. You just fell in with a bad crowd, and I know you can do better if you try. The rest of you, weapons and spellbooks on the floor, hands in the air, you're coming with me"
There was a clatter of weapons being drawn. The elf spat again. "Just try it, you senile old hu-"
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Rumble picked through the broken bottles, trying to see if the '52 Portsmith Royal he'd spied earlier had survived the carnage. He found it lying in a pile of broken glass from the less fortunate beverages. After checking to see no one was watching, he pulled the cork out with his teeth, and emptied the bottle into his waterskin.
"All good, Hammer old boy?"
Barclay rubbed his shoulder where his armor had stopped a glancing blow from one of the frog-priest's clubs. 
"Yeah. Smarts like assholes on a springtime tuna, but nothing a roger and half a dabble wont have bollars"
Rumble nodded. He'd known Barclay for 20 years and had never understood a single thing he said, but he wasn't bleeding and had gone back to muttering under his breath, so Rumble had to assume he was alright.
"What about you Angel Eye?"
"Eighteen out, fourteen down, three twizzled and one's gone all manky"
Rumble shook his head. "Not your quarrels, I meant you. Are you hurt?"
"Nah Rumble. All good here"
Rumble breathed a sigh of relief. If Angel-Eye got hurt, he'd tell and retell the story for years to come.
"Nice spellcasting Hellfire. Never seen scorching rays dance like that"
Hellfire didn't reply, she was already back at the broken remains of her table, finishing off her sausages, having augmented her dinner with a rather nice salami that had somehow found its way to her plate. She claimed spellcasting made her hungry, but Rumble hadn't seen much in the world that didn't make Hellfire hungry. He finished rechecking the manacles on Black Penny, although by the look at the bump on her head, she'd be out for a while yet.
Hearing that the commotion had calmed down, the barkeep had emerged and was surveying the damage. 
"Sorry about the mess" Rumble grunted apologetically, placing a generous pile of gold pieces on the counter. The barkeep just shook his head.
"Gold isn't enough. No one will come back, no one will deliver sausages now."
Rumble fished a piece of paper out of his jacket.
"I thought that might be the case. I have here a writ from the Lord of Mosswood, offering you a place in Dejune. A salary, your own pub, and guarenteed freedom from persecution. And freedom in general, really."
The barman clicked his mandibles thoughtfully. Rumble admittedly pitied the creature. The barman was a mongrelman named Urovok. Mongrelmen could be lovely (Rumble had seen one that was a mix of elf, human and catfolk), but regardless of their parents, each mongrelman child played the genetic roulette, occasionally ending up with the the half-gnoll half-cockroach half-crab four armed monstrosity like Urovok.
His speech sounded like an old halfling man, which only made it somehow more pathetic "Urovok has done some bad things. Killed people. Robbed people. Urovok isn't welcome on the surface."
Rumble smiled, and put on his more diplomatic face. "Sure you have. But let me ask you this: Are you going to kill anyone in the future? No. Didn't think so. Pack your bags. Roofas will help you carry your things. Rappan Athuk is no longer a place for anyone even half as decent as you. You'll like the surface. They make sausages out of parts of animals you've never even heard of."
He took one last look around the bar, watching Hellfire quietly slip an entire bowl of peanuts into her bag of holding.
"Once a month, after the Thyrites are done with church, they even have a book club"