Jezin cursed aloud as the man flipped over his strike. He was too agile. His attack was much too fast for Jezin to counter, and he felt the blade of the dirk strike his ankle. His boots were thick, and metal plated, but even such boots were thinner in the ankle area to allow more mobility. The dirk struck true, though the thickness of the boot impeded it's progress greatly. Jezin winced, falling to one knee and in an instant tearing the weapon from his foot. He flipped the blade in his hand, grabbing it by it's hilt. He stood up again, taking a few steps back, with a noticeable, though slight, limp. He looked down at the weapon in his hand, now smeared with his own blood. The man's attack had wounded him, and had inhibited his mobility, but it had also armed the bodyguard with a weapon he was slightly more used to. He took a few steps forward, his face as blank as stone, shaking his head. As he neared the man, he stopped, and bared his teeth. He shouted as he lunged forward, partially from anger and partially from the pain that now consumed his ankle. Feints wouldn't work, that was obvious. He swung Tyler's sword in a swift horizontal strike towards the man's arm, lunging his off hand under and making two lightning-fast stabs towards his opponent's gut with the dirk.