[i]"We're not dead yet, are we? I'm not dead either. Well shit, better look alive."[/i]

Balen, admittedly, did not have much experience with combat - aside from the occasional fighting off the hungry dog with a branch or such, he definitely did not have much experience fighting beings that used weapons. While he had killed before, it had been two pirates who were trying to carry a chest, which made things quite easier - physically, at least. Even then it had been quite simple, just some stabs and simple bleeding out (for people who grow up in Morrowind, stabbing people when they are helpless isn't very hard). Nothing like shattered spines and disembowelment. Or whatever the fuck was going on in the 'front' of the party with angry Nord noises - he hadn't even dared to look there, and just delayed the advance of a Draugr on the flank by looking angry and feigning thrusts. In retrospect, it was possibly more entertained rather than intimidated. Well, laugh they could (could Draugr laugh?), they were shambling corpses, and the group was making short work of them. 

While [i]'Victory or Sovngarde'[/i] wasn't as appealing as [i]'Victory or tactical retreat'[/i] to the Dunmer, he'd still admired the foolhardy way in which the cry's source launched into battle, even sporting an unintentional smirk upon witnessing the man bash into the group of revenants. But now, things were packing up - Hector was cleaving through with fire and sword like he was wielding the damned Goldbrand, and it seemed that Balen had to do something other than look scary, keep the dead away and anxiously contemplate his surroundings. 

"Attack!"

And with that, it was made official. He was going into the fray again. As he moved cautiously, he eyed his opponent, the 'big one', who'd been thankfully taken down a notch by an arrow. While using a bow and arrow in surroundings like these felt foolish to Balen, he was no archer, and he found the facts more satisfying than his nitpicking assumptions. There was no need to be an armchair tactician, not in the midst of a life-or-death battle.

Moving left as to stay away from its blade wielding arm, Balen was momentarily startled by a 'woosh' of purple light behind him, and looking behind he saw a wolf - a familiar, he assumed from the disturbing hue it gave away, and the fact that the mage and the Bosmer were behind it as if it were a barrier. He turned back and saw the Khajiit bash her mace into the Draugr. [i]"You go, girl,"[/i] he thought to himself as he had a moment of paralysis, unsure on what to do; feeling a tang of shame at standing still, he began a sudden sprint and plunged his sword in the general direction of the Draugr's neck, hoping it would sever something important.