Fitch barely had time to react to the explanations and things of his friends when Doku issued his request. "You're on," He said venomously. For a moment, he glanced to the drunken Yari, then back to Doku as he navigated a menu to equip his armour, staring the man down as he did so. "And she's my wife," The boy corrected Doku harshly. Yari hiccuped from across the table and stared blankly out, not exactly hearing what Fitch had to say as Luna stormed to the table. "Hey! You're new," She observed obviously, "Calm down, c-calm... shh... Nobody has to fight," she said, waving her hands at everybody, "P-please... N-not over... over me," She said, hiccuping again and covering her mouth. "I dun even know you people... S-so stop it," she pleaded again. Nobody was listening as they all filed out of the bar to the fighting circle. She groaned and hobbled through the people. However, she didn't stick around for the argument - this was her chance to get out and find somewhere else to enjoy her night. She had to find an inn for herself. Keep it away from the others. So that's what she did - she hunted down an inn for herself and managed to find a way to get to the room and crash. At least it was quiet and nobody could hunt her down here... ----- Nero rose, resting a hand on the hilt of his own sword as the group moved outside. He didn't speak - this was Fitch and Doku's beef. That Doku character was familiar, but Nero spent very little time in the "dueling game." Now and then he'd have a good gamble at a fight and sometimes he'd win. It was no question of strength in these fights though. It was all skill. Sword skills became moot after a bit and it would just turn into exchanging blows manually. Sword skills were predictable, even if they did more damage. He looked to Kenshin and nodded. "Let 'em go at it on their own, man. You know how he is... He needs this," the boy said stoically. It wasn't until he heard one of the bystanders mention Doku's moniker in passing and he shook his head. "Great... I hope Fitch knows what he's doing - this guy's a pretty big deal. [CENTER]----- Collab Duel -----[/CENTER] Fitch swiped through the window of the duel request, looking over the conditions before agreeing. A 50/50 duel - fight to yellow, first one to reach half health lost the duel. The sixty second countdown began and he and Doku started several paces away from one another. Fitch pulled a blade from his back. It drew from a navy blue sheath, the blade emitting a soft glow while it released a faint heat to the touch. It was nothing significant, but it was odd that the blade was not cool. "I've been waiting to test this out anyway," He snarled, brandishing the sword in front of him. On his off-hand, a shield the size of his torso flashed as he held it close to his body, ready for combat. "Let's dance, pretty boy." Fitch was in such a blind rage right now he could potentially get away with any conditions he wanted. Should they fight to the death? Forfeit? It might be fun to kill the boy, but then why ruin any potential fun in the future? If all it took to rile up the kid was simply flirting with this Yari girl then he'd gladly hang around and do it, whatever necessary to instigate a brawl. Grinning as he watched Fitch accept the conditions without hesitation, the brunette let out a chuckle and clapped his hands mockingly, tilting his head slightly as he looked across at Fitch. "I appreciate the compliment, but I'm not into other men, sorry to burst your bubble," Doku retorted, placing a hand on his own weapon and slowly drawing it from its sheath; a dark, leather bound grip led to a cross-guard crafted from a piece of Brimstone, a material found in a small dungeon on floor 20. As the blade itself was removed it was revealed to be as black as Doku's coat, cut from Obsidian with jagged teeth along the edges of the topmost edge, the fuller a red mineral contrasting against the Obsidian blade. When he turned the blade in his stance to get ready it seemed to glisten red, the swordsman holding it at his hip, down at a 45 degree angle as he waited for the timer to count down. 3... 2... 1... Begin! As soon as the timer had gone off Doku was moving in, wasting no time to close the gap between them. With an excited grin plastered on his face he dragged the sword up at an angle in his first skill, creating a massive arc which had a red effects trail after it. Fitch ignored the comment, his hands stopped shaking the moment they had something to grip. This sword and shield grounded him, but they didn't control his temper. As the countdown reached the lower numbers, he readied his shield in front of him, planted his feet, and held his sword overhead in a fencing stance. It was an odd combo, but it was how he liked to start fights - it gave him more versatility, personally. Doku's rush was expected and Fitch pivoted, catching the other swordsman's blade hard against his shield. Just as the blade stopped, Fitch stepped back and deflected it the rest of the way into the air, his own blade flashing a brilliant green as it carried him into the full three-hundred sixty degrees to make a swipe at Doku in return. Doku knew full well what a careless attack this was to open with, yet he couldn't find it within himself to care. He was [i]excited[/i] to fight, eager to see what Fitch could do with all that anger of his. People were so much more [i]fun[/i] when they were furious, their blows became stronger and their ferocity in battling grew, it was pure delight. Meeting steel with steel as his strike was blocked, Doku smirked and lowered his own sword again, twisting his arm to aim the blade downwards as he intercepted Fitch's strike. Following up immediately with an attack of his own he cocked back his arm, pivoting his body as his rear-leg swung around and he crouched down, driving his sword forward swiftly in a thrusting motion, aiming directly for Fitch's chest. The shield-user focused hard, trying to backstep, but only shifting enough to be caught in the shoulder. Doku's blade pierced clean through the joint and Fitch watched his health begin to drain. There was no pain, but he ground his teeth anyway. This guy was fast... Fitch had to react, so he lifted his blade and locked crossguards, starting to lean back before aiming a kick directly at Doku's chest. He was hoping to break the other guy's grip, but at the very least he could get the blade out of his arm. Several bystanders in front of the tavern had made the viewing circle even thicker, mutters running throughout with every exchanged blow. A few might stick out in particular, "Isn't that the Sanguine Blade..?" They would ask, "He's one of the best duelists around, who does this other guy think he is? Clearers and duelists can't compete with each other," one of them said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. A duelist wouldn't have a fighting style developed for high level mobs outside the safe zones, and dueling earned them plenty of experience to avoid having to do so. However, a clearer wouldn't be adapted to fighting another person - there's no algorithm or formula to follow there. It was all just numbers, pixels, no flesh or blood. But [i]damn[/i] if it wasn't satisfying to feel one's blade tear into your opponent! Doku's eyes gleamed with almost a sick joy as he managed to injure Fitch, missing his target but still inflicting a decent blow. Chuckling excitedly, the brunette glanced over as he heard metal clanging together, immediately noting how his and Fitch's swords had become interlocked. How amusing, what was he trying to do by this? Seeing Fitch then reel back he picked up on his movements, lifting his free hand and blocking the kick, grabbing his foot in the process and letting out a smug laugh. "Come on kid, you can do better!" he taunted, and with a grunt of effort Doku leaned back this time, trying to pull Fitch and spin him slightly before throwing him off, attempting to free his sword in the process. Fitch stared in contempt as his foot was caught. Rather than letting Doku pull him, Fitch pulled into his knee and bent his planted leg. "No. You. Don't!" He snarled, shifting his weight and strength upward as he leapt a few inches off the ground. It was all he needed as he let Doku continue to pull and Fitch put his shield between the two of them, aiming to let Doku's attempted grapple to work against his opponent. Doku had every intent to throw Fitch aside like a toy, but it seemed he wasn't going to go so easily. Despite giving the limb a solid yank he couldn't force the other boy to move, and found himself shifting instead. Grunting as he was thrown off balance he fought to stay upright, a difficult task when one arm was occupied and the other trying to fend off the incoming shield. With no recourse he fell backwards, slamming into the stone ground and taking a shield bash in the process, losing a moderate bit of health from the blow. Despite being injured Doku didn't falter, seeing opportunity even in his precarious position. Spinning his blade around so he held it upside down, he grinned at Fitch and tried to make a driving motion downwards, aiming to stab the boy without activating any kind of skill. The fight was getting more demented as each attack came and went. Neither of the boys had stuck to sword skills for very long, striking at each other bare-blade whenever they could. Fitch's eyes were hungry - he had to vent and Doku provided the perfect outlet. The obsidian blade pierced straight through his back before he could pin the other man's arms down. Fitch glanced to his health... That was two attacks without a sword skill - why was his health dropping so fast? He then noticed the little green droplet icon beside the bar with a '2' in the corner. His brow furrowed and he stared daggers at Doku, his battle regen just barely combatting the stab wound, but not overpowering the poison as it gradually ebbed away his health. "You bastard," He muttered quietly, "That's a real shitty tactic." His voice was low, so nobody around them heard as he rose, letting the blade sink more deeply into his back. The boy reached back and locked Doku's arm against his armor, ensuring the blade remained as he drove his body downward again, his shoulder moving out of the way. Several of the players surrounding them let out disgusted groans and looked away. It was far from a bloody affair, but the tactics were getting to be a bit tense. One of the bystanders fake-dry heaved and shook his head, "Oh god, he's using the blade [i]through[/i] himself... That's disgusting..." Poisoning someone was always a tricky business. If an individual noticed too soon then they might try to counteract the poison, albeit that left them open to attack. If they knew they were in imminent danger they may attack with more vigor as well, and there was nothing more dangerous than cornered prey. Which might Fitch be, he wondered? Grinning sadistically as his opponent finally came to the realization, Doku let out a throaty chuckle, driving his blade further into Fitch's back. "Welcome to dueling kid, nothing is off limits." Poison was underhanded, sure, but then like hell he cared. Whatever it took to win a fight, that was all Doku was concerned about. He could very likely have beaten Fitch without using the poison, but it was just so tantalizing to crush someone so bent on beating you like this. However, it didn't appear as though his quarry was just going to roll over and die, there was still some fight left in him. Doku should be worried seeing what he was doing, he should panic at the fact his own poisoned blade was now sliding into his gut, but damn if he wasn't excited!