When Alim had arrived back into the group with Meg, he had seen the looks of utter shock in the main group. He did his best not to smirk. Of course, he hadn't exactly saved Megana's life, but he'd lived and found someone else. It just went to show how he used skill and luck in unison. Still, their surprise would have been a bit off putting, if he was not used to it. He'd been invited to do things no one else had the stomach for, as far as he saw it. [i]Everyone's a critic[/i].

As the group moved forward, Alim took note of the soft pitter patter of elongated and wet feet hurrying down the cavern. By the way they ran he could tell they were simply running rather than charging or heading towards the group in particular, and with a light step he made his way into hiding with the rest of them. Unfortunately, the large Nord woman seemed to have an allergy problem. Alim showed his teeth and froze after she sneezed, the entire cavern quiet for a few otherworldly seconds before the Falmer screeched and they scrambled to take their positions. 

At Rhea's orders, Alim drew his sword and pressed his shoulder to the wall they had been using for cover. A cunning glimmer entered his eyes. "Ranged or sword?" He breathed, the question hanging in the air as he considered. "...Both, both is good." 

Just as the others engaged the Falmer in a rush, the Spellsword stepped out of hiding and waded into the fray. His sword leading, he ducked a backward swing from one of his own companions, giving them a glance in the faint light before moving forward. "Rhea wasn't kidding!" Never halting his smooth stride, he found himself catching the attention of a charging Falmer. The corrupt Elf raising its iron and bone blade high, shrieking from three paces away. 

It didn't make it past two paces before its head exploded in flame. 

A burst of light flashed for a brief moment, the smell of charred meat in the air. The headless Falmer fell over, weapon falling from its nerveless fingers as smoke poured out of its neck like a chimney. Alim lowered his smoking hand, the fireball spell always coming in handy in a pinch. "You might say he was a bit too hot headed, eh?" He quipped with charm, turning to his left. His allies were apparently distracted with their fighting, unfortunately. The bastard's smile turned into a sour look when he realized no one had heard his amazing pun. 

Perhaps it was for the best, because it was only the whistle in the air of a swinging blade that caused him to leap back from another Falmer's swipe. The blind creature not giving him room to breath, it slashed once more at Alim with a Dwarven short sword, outfitted with Dwarven bracers as well. Alim's blade rang as it met the Falmer's well-wrought weapon in a block. He countered with a riposte, but the Falmer managed to parry with its bracer. Alim could tell its block was just as much luck as skill, but that was something he could definitely appreciate. 

"Not too bad," He replied casually. They traded another two blows before Alim slipped past his guard and ran him through, a small cut on his arm the only injury he had to show for it. He withdrew his sword from the Falmer corpse and spun, only to find there was no enemy in striking distance. He'd change that! If only his arm didn't feel fairly cold. It took him a few seconds to realize it felt slick as well, and he looked down to see the cut on his arm. It hadn't been long, but it was deeper than he thought. 

"...Yeah that is bleeding."