Assistants' Debut

Oh, my, come back with me now, because our story of tonsorial trials is about to take another incredible turn. As we left our reluctant hero, Æon, standing bewildered on the bustling streets of Earth, two most peculiar beings materialized before him. But let us pause a moment, for these new arrivals deserve a proper introduction.

First, there was Abun. One moment, he was but a playful gust of wind, the next, a small blue cloud hovering at eye level. But wait! Watch closely now, for the cloud begins to shift and grow. It expands, taking on a form that can only be described as... well, imagine if a marshmallow decided to become human.

Abun now stood before Æon, a chubby figure with a body that seemed too large for his comically small head. His skin was the soft white of freshly fallen snow, but atop his diminutive noggin sat a mop of hair that looked for all the world like a bluish-grey cloud had decided to make itself at home. Æon, bless his barbarian heart, had never seen anything quite like it. Had he been familiar with Earth's pop culture, he might have been reminded of a certain marshmallow man from a beloved ghostbusting franchise. But alas, such references were as foreign to him as the concept of indoor plumbing.

Then there was Umu. Where Abun had been wind and cloud, Umu began as a simple rock. But as Æon watched, slack-jawed, the stone began to shift and soften. It molded itself into the form of a little girl, but not just any little girl. No, Umu appeared as if she had stepped straight out of one of those animated shows from a far-eastern island nation (another reference lost on our hero, I'm afraid).

Umu was the very definition of 'chibi', with a round face dominated by enormous, soulful eyes that seemed to take up half her head. Her hair, a bob cut that would make even the most jaded stylist coo with delight, started a vibrant green at the roots before gradually transitioning to a tomato red at the tips. She stood there, fidgeting slightly, the very picture of adorable awkwardness.

As Æon tried to process this strange turn of events, a ripple passed through the air around them. The bustling city street froze, pedestrians caught mid-stride, cars halted in their tracks, even the pigeons overhead suspended in flight. Time itself seemed to hold its breath, and into this moment of stillness stepped Princess Aura, her new wolfcut catching the light in a way that defied the laws of physics.

(And yes, dear reader, if you've ever felt time slow to a crawl during a particularly tedious lecture or mind-numbing meeting, you may very well have experienced the touch of Princess Aura's magic. Consider yourself honored.)

"Æon," the Princess began, her voice carrying the melody of a thousand wind chimes, "I present to you your new assistants. Abun and Umu will guide you through the intricacies of this realm and aid you in your quest."

Æon, a man more accustomed to cleaving monsters in twain than navigating social niceties, merely grunted in acknowledgment.

Princess Aura continued, undeterred by Æon's lack of enthusiasm. "Abun here is a master of marketing and worldly knowledge, though I warn you, his tongue is as sharp as your scissors." She cast a fond but exasperated glance at the cloud-haired being, who responded with a cheeky grin.

"And Umu," the Princess gestured to the petite rock-girl, who seemed to be trying to hide behind her own hair, "is the Færie Kingdom's premier makeup artist. Her sense of style is unparalleled, though she may need some... encouragement to share her brilliance."

Æon looked from one assistant to the other, his scarred face a mask of confusion. "But... how am I to complete my task with these... creatures?" he rumbled.

Princess Aura's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Ah, about that. You see, your clients won't just be the humans of this realm. Many magical beings walk among them, disguised in mortal form. It's up to you three to find them and offer your services."

She waved her hand, and the barber's pole began to glow. "Nine hundred and ninety-nine clients remain, Æon. Remember, reveal your true nature to no mortal, lest your sentence be doubled."

As the reality of his situation began to sink in, Æon felt a painful headache forming. How was he, a barbarian more suited to battlefields than beauty parlors, supposed to run a business in this strange world?

As if reading his thoughts, Abun piped up, his voice carrying the hint of a smirk. "First things first, big guy. We need a name for this shop of yours. Can't very well advertise 'Nameless Barbarian's Hair Emporium', can we?"

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the soft 'hmm' of Umu deep in thought. Then, in a voice as soft as moss on a riverbank, she spoke: "What about... 'The Barbærian'?"

The silence stretched on, each of them turning the name over in their minds. Then, slowly, a smile spread across Princess Aura's face. "See?" she said, gesturing to Umu with a flourish. "Didn't I tell you she was a genius?"

And so, dear reader, the stage was set. A barbarian-turned-barber, armed with magical scissors and aided by a sarcastic cloud-man and a shy rock-girl, ready to take on the hairstyling needs of Earth's hidden magical community. 'The Barbærian' was open for business.

As Princess Aura prepared to depart, leaving our trio to their fate, she paused, a thought occurring to her. "Oh, and Æon? Do try to have some fun. After all, eternity is a long time to spend scowling."

With a wink and a wave, she vanished, time resuming its normal flow around them. Æon stood there, golden scissors in hand, flanked by his new assistants, facing a world he barely understood.

Abun, ever the opportunist, was already scanning the crowd. "Alright, team, let's get cracking. I spy with my little eye something that looks suspiciously like a troll trying to pass as a hipster. Umu, prep the anti-frizz potion. Boss, warm up those scissors. It's showtime!"

As our improbable trio gets ready to try their hand at hairstyling for the first time, I must ask you, dear reader: Will Æon master the art of small talk? Can Abun's marketing skills attract the right kind of magical clientele? And will Umu overcome her shyness to unleash her full artistic potential?

If you want to see Æon's reaction to hair gel—which he first thinks is a weapon—or how he deals with a light elf who wants lowlights to fit in with the goth crowd, then you should tune in next time.

In the world of 'The Barbærian', where every snip brings our hero closer to redemption and further from his warrior past, one thing is certain: the path to becoming a true hair artist is paved with more than just good intentions and magical scissors. It's also lined with the occasional singed eyebrow, accidental mohawk, and, if Abun has his way, a viral social media campaign.

As you go about your day, my dear reader, be on the lookout for a little shop that does not have a sign. Inside, you will find a giant with a scar, a plump cloud-man, and a little girl with red to green hair. And if you're feeling particularly brave (or in desperate need of a trim), why not stop by? Just remember: at 'The Barbærian', you might get more than just a new hairstyle—you might become part of a legend in the making.