Dralith was out of his seat entirely and standing at the balcony rail, hands clasping it tightly. The fighting was far more intense than he'd initially thought. Though the Yellow team had the advantage in numbers, equipment, and likely training… these prisoners… this rag tag group of brigands, was winning. Several of them had sustained grievous wounds but the mages had been quick to heal them. The Hero of Kvatch observed them all and took note of their fighting styles. After the first few engagements he'd felt that he had a good grasp on each fighter. "Brilliant.. simply brilliant. They are complete strangers sentenced to death for various crimes and yet here they are, fighting for each other and keeping one another alive." he said to himself. "They're perfect.. provided they do actually survive."

Dralith took his seat once more, taking a swig of the Cyrodiilic Brandy that had been brought to him.