The older man was built as though he were Amal's uncle, tall, wide, with equal parts muscle and fat, adorned in well worn steel. He wore a large blade at his side, a typical longsword, but at his side it seemed almost like a shortsword. His short hair was curly, his moustache far thicker and curlier, like a waking caterpillar, and the giant wild grin he wore upon his face reminded the half elf of his grandfather.

"Young man, Mo, I hear you are quite strong?" The old man asked, raising his brow, glaring down at the boy still. He had been in the middle of doing nothing in particular when he had been called for, so unfortunately for the young half elf, he was in quite the mood.

"Me? I suppose some might call me strong, but I'm not sure if I can call myself strong?" Adam mused in returned, smiling warmly towards the older man, and though the half elf wore no armour, he stood tall and proud.

"I would like to see how strong you are, Mo."

"Of course," the half elf replied, with the understanding he couldn't refuse, not that he would, his lips forming an even wider smirk as he stood opposite the old man.

"Shall we take this elsewhere?"

"It's fine," Adam replied, tilting his head to the side, as though stretching his neck. "We can do it here."

"Are you certain?"

"Ah, well, if we make a mess, I'll be sure to clean it up, and if we end up damaging something, I'll pay for it," Adam assured, still smiling innocently.

The old man narrowed his eyes, Big Butrus clenching his fists hard to crack his knuckles, before reaching for his blade. As he lifted it up, he noted the half elf's amulet once more, and how easy going the young man was. "I only wish to spar lightly, Mo."

"May I ask how strong you are?" Adam finally asked.

The old man's grin widened, a grin so wicked and beastly. "I am greater than an Expert, Mo."

"Are you a Master then?" Adam asked, suddenly slightly more alert.

"No, I retired before that," Butrus said, his wild grin faltering slightly as the half elf deflated lightly.

"I appreciate you not killing me, I will return the favour," the half elf replied, reaching up to brush the cool obsidian of his amulet.

The old man could feel a heat spread through his head, an itch towards the back of his skull, as the annoyance within his heart grew into a deeper anger. "Thank you, Mo."

The older Butrus undid the sword belt at his side, clasping his sheathed blade within a hand, easily able to lift its weight. As the pair prepared themselves, in front of Ali, the older Aswadian could feel his heart shudder.

How could they fight within his barbershop?

Battle Order

D20 + 1 = 10 (9)

Spell: Fist

D20 + 9 = 26 (17)

Hit!

Mana: 34 - 33

Ability: Divine Smite

1D6 + 2D6 + 7 = 21 (6)(8)

21 damage!

Spell: Fist

D20 + 9 = 29 (20)

Critical Hit!

Mana: 33 - 32

Ability: Divine Smite

2D6 + 4D6 + 7 = 35 (7(21)

35 damage!

Health: 126 - 104

Adam saw the blade twitch and within an instant he drove forward, his thighs burning, and his fist struck into the heavy chain, threatening to bruise his knuckles, while the sheathed blade struck against his shoulder, glancing off to the side.

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"Gah!" Butrus spat out onto the floor as he stepped back, reaching down to his gut, which ached as the holy radiance of a smite ran through him, the older man's face contorted into surprise and shock. His companion also grew wet with sweat, forehead slick with anxiety, as Butrus stepped back from the smiling half elf.

'Bell, you're pretty funny, huh?' Adam thought.

'What? What did he do?' Butrus thought.

"Should we end it here?" Adam asked, smiling innocently, as though he hadn't beaten someone who gave the barbers nightmares with a simple punch.

"As you say, Mo," Butrus managed, inhaling deeply, flexing his muscles.

Tough Spirit

2D6 + 9 = 17 (8)

Health: 104 - 121

Adam chuckled, seeing the way the old man stared at him, as though he were a lost pup who had come across a tiger. "Relax. I may be a Mo of Death, but my wife, she is as beautiful as she is kind, though what can you expect? She's a Ray of Life's Rose, so I can't go around killing all the people who offend me, otherwise the number of bodies I'd leave behind…"

'This young man… he's completely insane!' Butrus could see the half elf's expression, that of a young man who was counting all those who may have been dead.

'I wonder how much trouble I would get in if I did end up killing everyone,' Adam thought, considering the behaviour of all the nobles, then the vast, near countless stories from his grandfather and his granduncle.

Butrus wasn't sure what he was meant to do. At first he was just going to teach the half elf a lesson, but the gulf between the pair was more than evident, especially considering that the half elf seemed so relaxed, so it meant what he had just done hadn't been fortune, unless he was feigning how relaxed he was.

"I hope I can speak with the boss to deal with any misunderstandings," Adam finally said, noting the pair's eyes upon him once more. He continued to smile innocently. "I'm about to get my hair cut, so I'll remain here for some time, and I may stay here for the evening, but I hope the creditor is willing to speak with this humble one."

"As you say, Mo," Butrus said. "They call me Big Butrus."

"They call me Crazy Father in Aldland," Adam replied. "Though my name is Adam, and I prefer the title of Executive."

Butrus stepped back, needing to ask around about the one they called the Crazy Father in Aldland. He was certain he had heard the name previously, but it slipped his mind in the moment.

Adam continued to smile as they walked away, shaking his hand, feeling the pulsing of the ache, his eyes then darting to the side to see Ali staring at him, the anxiety on his face evident enough. "You should see me when I'm wearing full plate and wielding my magical axe."

'His magical axe?' The old man glanced down at the seat where it rested. It was a beautiful axe, well made, and considering the tingle he had felt when he had touched it, it was certainly magical.

The half elf finally dropped down, accepting the touch from the ahm's hands, which seemed so rough against his skin, but well practised, and his touch was almost feather light. As the older man cut into Adam's hair, cutting it short around the back and sides, while parting his hair in the centre, cutting the hair atop his head shorter, but still thick enough to grab a fistful if the half elf wished.

Meanwhile, Adam continued to speak his families tales, from the Mad Dog, to the Rising Swallow, to Flame Brand. Once the half elf's hair had been cut, his hair lined by the Aswadian's expert hand, he left to the nearby bathing station, further within the complex, to have a quick bath. He washed and dried his clothes with ease using his magic, before applying the oils the old man had on offer, stepping towards the shop, now noting the dozen or so standing outside, the half elf grinning wide as he noted the way the group looked at him.

Adam stepped within the barbershop once more, finding the boss and Ali standing off against one another silently. There were many around them here too, from the dozen outside, as well as the half dozen within, one Brutus, and the last the boss, so he assumed.

The boss was a handsome enough Aswadian, his skin slightly fairer, not quite Aldish white, with dark curly hair that had been cut short but a week ago, a short beard, a thick moustache, and he was young, within his thirties or so, the fellow wearing quite a beautiful dagger at his side, the handle shimmering silver.

"My, my, my, ahm, your barbershop is so popular, isn't it?" Adam teased, smiling without a single nerve, for even if all of them attacked him at once, he was certain he could deal with them. He had yet to use any of his greater abilities within the fight against Butrus, and he hadn't used that spell in so long, nor in that particular way.

"So you are the one causing trouble," the handsome fellow accused, the kind who held a noble disposition, but not the kind who was born into such evils, but the kind who wished he had.

"Trouble? Little ol' me?" Adam smiled even wider, understanding the tone of the conversation immediately. 'I'm sorry, Dunes, but it looks like he's not here for a bit of tea.'