It was good for both Tsunar and Borgakh to be back in Whiterun. Lydia greeted them both eagerly and helped them to take a load off after their travels. Borgakh visited the general store for supplies while Tsunar tended to their weapons and armour. They told Lydia of their recent adventures up north as they plotted their way into the ruins of Alftand. Septimus had marked an area in the glacial mountains southwest of Winterhold. The journey through this area wasn't going to be an easy one. They made sure to grab extra winter supplies and did some research into dwarven ruins. The books from the general store told of adventurers who'd dared to delve into dwemer ruins. The books claimed that dwarven ruins were practically alive with ancient dwemer machinery that was still eons ahead of the rest of the Tamrielic races. It told of guardians made of metal that still roamed the halls looking for intruders. The ruins were known to be full to the brim with traps and many adventurers reported facing strange creatures in the deepest reaches of these ruins. Reports of pale, blind goblin like creatures lurking in the depths, using poisons and large insects against anyone unlucky enough to cross them. Some scholars seemed to believe that these creatures were all that was left of the snow elves. The dwarves had tricked the falmer into slavery long ago, and these malformed beings seemed to be all that was left.
The book didn't help Tsunar's confidence with this mission. The difficult area, dwemer machines and traps, falmer and gods only know what else all made Tsunar dread entering Alftand. They needed the Elder Scroll to stop Alduin, and there was a higher chance of a snowball lasting ten minutes in the Deadlands than of convincing Borgakh to sit this quest out. However, they both agreed that Meeko would stay behind for this mission. The hound was capable in a scrap, but with uncharted territory, it was better safe than sorry. The adventurers prepped themselves for the journey and left Meeko in Lydia's hands as they headed back north.
The frozen wastes of Winterhold seemed to be in a perpetual blizzard as the pair tried to find their way to Alftand. Tsunar's Clear Skies shout only held the snow back for an hour at most, and Alftand was nowhere in sight for days. After two days of wandering the wastes, taking shelter in caves after clearing out whatever beasts called it home before them, the adventurers were beginning to wonder if Septimus had sent them the wrong way. Tsunar dreaded the thought of needing to return empty handed. Instead of facing defeat, Tsunar opted to scout ahead. He removed his armour and changed into his more bestial form before sprinting ahead. His tracks were easy to follow as he dashed through the snow, searching for anything out of place. Eventually, he saw it. A few hundred feet ahead, there was a camp site. Approaching quietly, Tsunar sniffed around. Whoever was camped here had left some days ago based on the camp's conditions. Looking over the icy cliff, Tsunar saw strange architecture sticking out of the glacier. It looked like the depictions of dwarven ruins from the book. Rushing back to Borgakh, Tsunar donned his armour and led his companion to the find. Agreeing that this was likely their best shot, they descended into the old dwarven fane.
Tsunar could smell that they weren't the first to enter the ruin. He caught the scent of a number of other people, though it seemed days old. And the lack of sounds didn't make him think they'd find anyone. Not alive at least. Searching about, Borgakh happened upon a journal. It seemed that the people who got here before them were researching the dwemer. The blizzards had forced them to take shelter in the ruin. At first this was nothing to worry about, they'd come to study the ruins after all. But after a few days, their supplies had begun to run dry and many of them had started to develop cabin fever and many were seeing strange shapes darting around corners.
"Let's not stay here long." Borgakh said placing the journal back onto a stone table.
Descending further into the ruins revealed a strange aesthetic. The dwarven ruin was completely angular. Barely anything was round. There was a brass coloured metal used in almost everything's construction. The walls, the chairs, the urns even the beds. Everything either had a decent amount of this dwarven metal or was made entirely out of it. There were a series of pipes running along the ceiling. The snow and ice that had made its way into the ruin seemed to melt near them.
"I think dwarves had a thing for steam in these places." Borgakh mumbled. "Don't really want to know what that thing's powering." Moving further in, the pair got their first taste of the dwarves' defenses.
Jumping out of one of those brass pipes was what looked like a metal spider. It was the size of a small dog, with some kind of gem spinning in a mechanism in its top. The spider leaped for Borgakh, wrapping its legs around her raised arm as it tried to claw at her. Tsunar tore it off and threw it against the wall as he drew his saber and looked for a weak point. As the spider began to right itself, Borgakh began to stomp the machine. The legs disconnected from the body after a few good stomps. Within half a second of the disconnect, a blast of electricity burst from the spider and rushed through Borgakh and Tsunar. The burst was a painful experience, comparable to a wizard's spell. While it was painful, it didn't seem to leave any life threatening injuries in its wake.
"Kill then run." Borgakh growled at the metal creature. "Got it."
Continuing further in, the pair eventually heard a voice. It sounded like a khajiit. It seemed like he was arguing, but neither adventurer was able to catch enough of the conversation to know what about. As they continued in, the pair came across more of those spiders. Eventually they got used to fighting them, though the shocks were still annoying. Before long the voice from before was heard again.
"Where is it? I know you're hiding more. You always keep it for yourself!" Tsunar noticed a small purple bottle on the floor. Bringing it to his nose, Tsunar could tell the previous contents.
"Skooma." He whispered. "I'm starting to get the feeling he's an addict." Continuing further, they eventually came to a blood trail. Following it, they found the previous expedition's survivor. The khajiit was crouching over what seemed to be another khajjit lying in a bedroll, dead. The survivor turned around, wide eyed.
"What's this brother?" He said, glancing to the dead man. "Another of the smooth skins looking for food? But these ones weren't trapped with us…" The khajiit picked up a woodcutter's axe and charged the adventurers. Tsunar merely looked away as Borgakh drew an axe of her own and put the man out of his misery. Looking through a nearby knapsack, Tsunar found a journal.
"Yeah, an addict." Tsunar sighed. "Dead one convinced his brother to come here to try bringing him down slowly." Tsunar sighed as he placed the book back in the bag.