Daric walked out in front of the roaring crowd. He heard many heckles, but also many roars of joy. He looked at the opposite team and then at the 'team-mates' that he had been stuck with. The Elf deflected an arrow with her sword, he sort of hoped she hadn't. She seemed overly cocky for someone who didn't even know about the monarchy of the land she had been imprisoned in. Probably all bark and no bite. Everyone seemed to get in a stance of their own but not attack. If they weren't quick the archer would pick them off like stabbing mudcrabs in a barrel. Daric spun the sword around in his hand before making the rather brash decision of sprinting towards the enemy team.

He aimed for the spellcasters, readying a heat blast in his hand in case he was met with any such difficulty in slashing at them. He dodged under the swing of the nord's claymore and leaped over an arrow heading for his ankle. He felt the familiar sting of a weak firebolt spell hit him and give him more magicka to use against the mages. His race's skin made him particularly resistant to magic spells actually damaging him. He basically threw his shortsword at the mage. It whistled through the air before embedding itself through one of the mage's legs. It sent him flying to the floor and to a quick death after it allowed Daric to burn the mage's face with the spell he had readied. 

He retrieved the sword from the corpses leg before holding the sword upwards in defense as the nord swung downwards onto Daric's sword, snapping it in two. Daric held what was left of the handle in his hand before throwing the blade to the ground and rolling to avoid the same fate as his sword.