Arman walked into the dimly lit and unclean bar. He was new to the bar and had noticed a faint smell of awful rotting, almost enough to make him queezy but with his barbarian nature he wasn't quite. He chose a secluded corner to place himself as he waited to gather the atmosphere of the bar. He realized all the dingy and dirty scum that rested there. A bald man in a filthy green, blotchy robe with garbage all over it appeared.
"Hey, you better pay the hell up or I'll kick your ass!"

"Well, i could give you money but i really don't care about what you think seeing as you can't even afford a bath. Now please leave because I do not want to use force on someone as unskilled as you sir."

"That's it outside now! I'm going to kick your ass!"

Arman quietly got up and followed the drunken and staggering man to the front of the bar. He noticed the man had pulled out a knife that was hidden underneath his robes and was fumbling with it.

"Sir, I really don't want to have to do this, but if you force me to, I will."

"You shut up and get ready."

Arman reached behind his back and unsheatheed his longsword witch marveled in comparison to the man's miniature dagger. The man attacked slow, not suprisingly, and Arman side-stepped the attack with ease. Spinning gracefully to give the blow more force, a comical sight for a man of his size, whirling his blade over his head, he swung the flat of the weapon down with gathered momentum severing the drunks forearm. As the forearm fell Arman caught it and beat the drunk in the head once with the forearm. The drunk made a roaring sound and fell, unconcious. Arman chuckled to himself.

"I said I didn't want to do it." He said, as he walked away.