Ixion still looked down, watching the Fixer's every move. While he did want to serve an opponent of Blue's calibre justice, but with the Grand Master looming over him with the contract in the case he struck down one of his servants, he cannot afford to carry that out. If there was one thing that was easily deductible was that the Grand master doesn't need the souls that he had obtained himself to be forced to his domain by their death and would probably punish the assassin if that was the case. Could he possibly, once he was powerful enough through some other means and another confrontation occurred in the future, hinder the Fixer in some way so that another person could bring him down? Technically, that could be possible as he wouldn't be the one that would do the coup de grace, he should be fine with that method. Would he irritate the Grand Master that he assisted in the downfall of his right hand man? Ixion pushed the thought to one side. [i]Now is not the time to dwell on such thought,[/i] he concluded. Much like he had said earlier, now was not the time to do or think on such thoughts as they would detract from his analytical skills that he is currently going through at this very moment.

Despite not needing the demonic sword that Blue had, since he had one himself, Ixion watched as the man below him take the scabbard from the belt and attached it to his own belt. It amused the assassin that despite hearing the Fixer and his terrible power, he needed both of his hands to do something as menial as undoing the belt. Moreover, he carried on thinking about the swords. [i]If he had one sword, why need two? Using two swords and still have the war-pick at his side would be very cumbersome for someone of his abilities.[/i] Whatever was the case, Ixion concluded that if she had the weapon and was from a place that was gruesomely called the Corpse Forge, it might have something to do with that place. Who knows, but once the Fixer was finished and looked up at them, she spoke directly at Ixion, still having the unknown accent in his voice.

[i]"Oy, Ixie! Is the guy tha' pois'n'd ya still 'live?"[/i]

While the accent didn't phase the assassin one bit, he still grimaced at the use of the pet name. [i]Note to self, need to remove that one weakness,[/i] Ixion concluded. That was something that he didn't need; a blast from his personal history to give an enemy an edge over him and his fearsome abilities as any faltering when teleporting would be the difference between executing it correctly and the possibility of damaging, or worse losing, a limb from a bad placement. Once again, however, he gained his composure and thought about the question. The person who had poisoned him? He had thought with some certainty that one of the guards of the murdered merchant had put the poison in the tonic that kept his throat operable. Now pondering on the entire event in his mind, doubt crept in. [i]From me teleporting and moving at blinding speed for those buffoons, there was no way one of them had the time to 1) spot the tonic, 2) had the knowledge of what poisons would affect him in the way he did and 3) be quick enough to insert it into the tonic by the time I killed them.[/i] The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that neither of them had poisoned him and that there was another force at hand that had done the deed.
He hadn't been surprised at the fact that the Fixer knew about the poisoning, considering he had been in Zerul City for this long just to defeat Blue and take the sword. But if he had seen that, could he have seen the person who had done such a thing? That was an intriguing question and the person who might know the answer to that question, he might be able to get the directions needed to strike back at his poisoner. Without hesitation, he too walked off the edge of the building he was standing on. However, without all of the theatrical acrobatics that the Fixer had showed and rolled away, Ixion landed onto the ground, allowing himself to go into a kneeling position to allow the energy obtained from the fall to dissipate through them. From the years of doing such a manoeuvre, he was used to the pain load that the fall would give him. Getting back up onto his feet, he looked at the Fixer. “It seems that you know a lot about that incident, though I think you have been in this city long enough to witness that. As far as I am aware or thinking of that, the poisoner might still be alive. If you know anything about the details, I'd be more than happy to know of them and repay the favour to them.” While he waited for the Fixer's response, he readied himself for any spoken jujitsu that he might use.