In Acrius' eyes, poison, simply put, is dull. It forces the assailed combatant to fight defensively. This style of combat wasn't compatible with his 'be fine with getting injured as long as you've doled out harsher injuries' mindset. Still, Acrius thought he was going to enjoy meals from around the country but here he is fighting in some abandoned alleyway against a potentially deranged man with a poisoned weapon. He enjoyed a good fight, but he hardly considered dueling poison users a 'fight'. It was a prolonged game of cat-and-mouse. Except, if patient enough, the mouse could kill the cat.

The assassin and Acrius circled each other, both eyeing each other for any opening. The orange-eyed boy would lunge at any sign of weakness but the assassin was extremely cautious, almost as if avoiding an engagement. It seemed entirely possible that the assassins had been briefed of his, and likely the other retinue's, profiles. Though, if his suspicions proved correct, it was odd that the man would opt to trade blows with him rather than retreat.

It wasn't only pride that let Acrius know, poison notwithstanding, that he would win in a clash against the assassin. Acrius eyes, molded through countless years of experience and training, had a knack for discerning foes. From the beginning he had carefully observed the assassin's mannerisms- His movement, stance, grip, and experience. None denoted a particularly experienced or rigorously trained swordsman. Atleast, one able to best him. In his head he concluded that this man must not be alone. This caused Acrius to be wary, well more wary than usual. An ally or two roaming the shadows nearby was more than likely. That and their poisoned weapons spelled bad news. 

The assassin threw knives in a fan-like fashion. This movement was telegraphed and would've been a simple enough process to dodge or even deflect. In response Acrius' waved his free hand to create a small, thin sheet of fire infront of him. This fire was harmless and only served as a distraction. It blocked the line-of-sight of the assassin in-front of him. The assassin, bewildered by his action, strained to see ahead of him.

The other assassin took this as an opening and aimed his crossbow at Acrius' head. The bolt flew through the air and cut through the fire. A grunt of pain soon followed. The crossbow assassin clambered down the rooftops, in hopes of finishing off the swordsman with his compatriot.

[hider=Behind the flames]
A few moments prior the knives being thrown, Acrius luckily spotted the shadowy figure on the rooftop above. The glint of the bolt against the moonlight allowed him to guess where the shot would come from. As it sailed through the sheet of fire, he turned his head just enough for it so careen by his cheek and not cut him. Acrius, in a stroke of mad folly or brilliance, cut his own cheek with his weapon and grunted as if in pain. He didn't know if this would draw out his partner but it was worth a shot...[/hider]

As the fire dissipated, the two found Acrius kneeling and clutching his bleeding face. With satisfied smiles they moved to end his life. A dagger flew from the boy to the assailants.

"Last death throes, eh boy?" One of them spat with a toothy grin, "Any last words?"

As they approached the seemingly poisoned swordsman they expected an easy kill. Suddenly, Acrius jumped up and slashed the first assassin diagonally in the chest. The cut was deep and caused him to reel backwards in agony and begin bleeding. The second gripped his own daggers and charged the boy. Surely he was running low on stamina, his vitality can only take him so far, right?

"Keh, give up, the poison should be seeping into your heart," The second spat as he clashed with Acrius, "I'll give you a clean death."

[b][color=#FF9900]"Maybe so,"[/color][/b] Acrius replied simply as he deflected each stroke, [b][color=#FF9900]"I'm not the type to die with my weapons down. But you know that, right?"[/color][/b] 

The basic rule of combat against multiple assailants was to keep them all within your line of sight and do not let them surround you. The first assassin clutched his chest and tried his best to push through the pain. His movements became slow and lethargic, he cringed in pain with every movement. The first assassin would go down easily enough, but Acrius still moved backwards as he deflected and blocked their attacks. He never let them out of his sight and always kept them in-front of him. Each exchange allowed Acrius to create and maintain distance between them. 

With each passing moment a searing doubt would enter the assassins heads; how in gods name was this man still standing. He was 'poisoned' yet was able to fend both of them off with ease. 

Acrius spotted an opening with the dagger-wielding assassin's hesitance. The man swung wildly and his momentum left him open- Acrius kicked his foot that supported his weight. This sent the man careening towards the floor, dropping like a sack of potatoes. Another swing from the wounded assassin came right after his kick, but it was slow and telegraphed. Acrius deflected the sword away and slashed the man's wrist. The assassin groaned in pain and dropped his weapon. Acrius readied himself for another clash with the second assassin but found that he had vanished. The dagger-wielding assassin had retreated back into the darkness. The man had come to the conclusion that the attempt on Acrius' life failed and opted to run away.

It was due to Acrius' carelessness that the second one got away. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Atleast he still had one that the guard can question. The man desperately tried crawling away. Acrius pinned his hands and dug through his clothes- he threw away any weapons or poisons that can be used against him before pinning the man down by sitting on him.

The man yelled out expletives at Acrius but soon passed out due to blood loss. Acrius would sear the bleeding cuts close and slung the man over his shoulders before he made his way to the plaza, hopefully to the prince and back to the keep to question this man. He didn't care or, more likely, even notice how terrifying it was to carry a bloodied, unconscious man to a crowded place.

Acrius' cheek still bled, he sighed and thought that he may have cut too deeply.