Arms resting on his knees, shoulders slouched, Goldenrod had his eyes turned as Chester stood. Straightening his back a bit, Goldenrod said, "Nah, I'm not mad. I only get mad when Jeko's around for some reason. Tapping his gun on his thigh, he looked Chester over, before beginning, "Offer after offer keeps coming to mind but...you're a handful. I don't like that."

Chester got up, about to turn around and give the white haired son of a bitch a piece of his mind - but he was met with a sharp stab of the wooden blade in his ribs. "Eyes forward, prison boy." Isaac told him, keeping him at the full length of his blade.

"Yeah, well? I don't like you." His wit was unmatched.

Goldenrod pondered for a second, before continuing, "Yeah, I figured. Tell you what. In exchange for [i]twice[/i] what you won from this yoke and his buddy, I'll let you work for me. All three of you. In fact, I'll pay you all the same rate. But if one of you steps out of line you're all dead."

"Three? Swordsman over here isn't with me, idiot." Isaac delivered another swift stab to his ribs. "Ow."

Goldenrod blinked, before pointing to Isaac, asking, "There were three of them, right? The girlie and..."

"Think so. Might've been six of them, I didn't count."

Goldenrod slapped his palm to his forehead before standing up. As he made away, he said, "Screw it. Kill him." Ducking his head, he bowed out, not interested in the outcome.

As the command came out, Isaac dragged his blade backwards a few inches, about to strike Chester, the latter turning around as the blade came towards him, sending a punch, his fist colliding with the wood, shattering the blade into a million pieces, leaving Isaac with but the handle.  "Getting really tired of all this talking." Chester exclaimed.

"Holy shit." Isaac let out. Staggering backwards. “Y-You're really something, aren't you, kid.” Isaac asked with a slight giggle in his voice. Chester looked at him with tired eyes, his face bleeding from the previous hit Isaac had given him with his wooden blade, blood dripping on the floor.

Isaac threw the broken handle to the side, and put up his hands, a guard in front of his face – like a boxer. “You think I haven't been in a bar brawl before? I've been fighting with my hands before you were even born, kiddo!” The drunken swordsman shouted, as he charged at Chester, whom saw him coming – matching his jabs blow for blow, each of his blows sending a small shockwave into Isaac's fists. 

Isaac and Chester both threw punches, hitting the other in the face, sending both of them to the floor, in opposite direction with a loud bang. Isaac felt the pain in his hands from hitting Chester, whom began climbing onto his feet. “You're pissing me off, whiteboy.” Chester exclaimed:

“Did you just racial slur me?”

“What?”

“Man, we're both white, the fuck”

“No, I meant your hai- You know what, fuck you.” Chester exclaimed, running towards Isaac, delivering a knee towards his chest as he tried getting up, sending him through the wall, into the next room – the armory. Isaac grinned as he pulled two wooden swords on Chester, swining them both at the pirate with great ferocity.

[i][b]X Marks the Spot[/b][/i] Isaac's word echoed as the two blades hit Chester in the chest, a cross-cut that sent him flying back through the hole he had sent Isaac through.

“You think you're hot shit, huh?!” Isaac taunted him, swinging the swords in his hands in the air to show dominance. Chester had two surprisingly deep cuts in his chest – considering how he had only been hit with wood – not metal, his shirt was once again ruined, and his scars from his face with the not-talking bear had torn, more blood was pooling onto his face and torso. 

“You know what? I actually do. Hotter than you, anyway. You not only suck at drinking, you suck at fighting, too.” Chester spoke, his words held a quiet rage. He vanished, and appeared in the air – leaping at Isaac, his leg outreached – Isaac slashed at him, unleashing the cross-cut technique from earlier again.

[i][b]X Marks the Spot[/b][/i]

[i][b]Bacardi Bullet[/b][/i]

The two drunks attacks collided, dust flying everywhere in the large room, the entire room shook under the impact. As the dust settled, Chester was bleeding from his leg, and splinters from the wooden swords laid everywhere. Isaac's limp body was inside of the armory, one leg in the opening. “You dead?” Chester asked.

“No..” Isaac responded, melancholy in his words:

“Whatever.” The pirate responded.

“ I can't believe this.”

“That you'd lose? That's twice to me.”  Chester said, turning away from Isaac. 

“No.”

“I can't believe that I'll have to do this against a nobody like you.” He was no longer laying in the doorway, Chester was walking out of the room, he really needed a drink now. “Stop.” Isaac commanded, and Chester's feet stopped. “What the hell do you want?” He asked, angered, clenching his fist. Behind him, he saw Isaac stand, a katana in his hand – one made out of steel.

“I'm a scoundrel – a thief – a thug and a liar. But once upon a time I was a honorable warrior. Donning a metal blade means I have to follow my old ways.” Isaac explained to Chester – for once, he sounded clear, almost sober. He pulled out the blade from it's sheath – it was a very nice katana, very high quality that he had taken out of a locked chest in the armory. He also held two small bottles of alchol in his fingers. He threw one of them to Chester. “Only one of us is going to walk out of here. This is a duel to the death. One about honor, not about money.” Isaac told him.

“One last drink – for one of us.”

Chester drank, without saying a word. Isaac drank half the bottle, before pouring the other half onto his blade. The white haired swordman was serious – focused and surging with deadly instinct.

“I am Isaac Newgate, the Rounin of Redrock. And that shall be the last name you ever hear!”