The premise of taking a ship to a long-forgotten Dwemer ruin to gather the remains of the achievements of the long-lost race was not an unfamiliar one for Sadri. Decades ago, he had worked for an expedition group that had specialized itself in this kind of work. Of course, back then, things were simpler, and the job was done for the sake of money, and not for fighting back against invaders from a mysterious continent. He vaguely remembered hearing of Bthamz in the past, but could not remember anything else about it aside from the familiarity of the name. Perhaps his mind had simply connotated the Dwemer name with his past line of work and accidentally created a false memory of familiarity. He himself wasn't sure. 

Sadri had qualms about being on a ship that carried arcane charges, and had many more qualms about the fact that they were supplied with them again in yet another trip to underground. They hadn't killed him in the Reach, that much was sure, but nonetheless his opinion of them hadn't changed. The fact that they had almost killed two members of the party last time they were used likely did not help his assessment. But Sadri could, for once, see the other half of the glass - the weather was calm (however foreboding), the ship felt sturdier than the Courtesan, and Solveig's presence was soothing to say the least. 

The sight of the Dwemer spire at the end of the journey was enough for Sadri to drop his restful, content demeanor and switch back to a business oriented attitude that was likely much more familiar to other members of the party - in all likelihood, even Sadri himself felt more familiar with it, like a troubled merchant waking up to a bland world full of debt after an enjoyable, unknown, surreal dream. But business was business, and Sadri was proud of his professionalism, no matter what sort of impression he made about it, and he did not wish to stain his standing with himself by not abiding to his principles. He had put in a compromise by keeping a constant thought of Solveig somewhere deep and sacred within his mind, and he would not deny himself the satisfaction of warming his insides by throwing aside glances and smiles at her as they prepared the dinghies, but he figured that by letting his guard down on a mission he could end up a liability, or be unable to prevent some things, things that he dared not think of. 

As they rowed, he remembered previous visits to different Dwemer ruins, memories from years past peeking at him from underneath all the dust and cobwebs time had settled upon them, showing their teeth against Sadri's happier state of mind. His memories related to the work weren't very good - he had lost one of his many loves in such a ruin, although admittedly it was because of betrayal, and not because of the animunculi lurking within. Nonetheless, the connotation was bound once, and now the mere idea of going inside reminded him of the memory, and the tie his past love had with Solveig (in that they were both loved by Sadri) couldn't help but make him feel afraid for her. He tried not to show.

And finally, after the elevator, Sadri's fears were justified by the sudden appearance of many animunculi. The lifeless automatons came upon the party with stark resistance, shooting at them, trying to electrocute them, or simply cut through them. Sadri had experience against fighting such machinery, and thus knew to dodge the salvo of bolts shot by whatever contraption that wished to kill them, and also knew better than to try and cut through their plates once the animunculi began to close the distance for face-to-face (did they have faces?) combat. He simply kicked away a spider that wished to tear into his torso by sticking his foot underneath its body and punting it upwards into the air, and cut one away as it tried to lunge at him.

Unfortunately, the rest of the party, it seemed, were not as lucky as Sadri when it came to combating the brazen hulks. Solveig seemed to fare well against them, and the sight of her piercing through the beasts couldn't help but make him feel admiration for her. But, as said before, Sadri had made it a principle to be professional at work, and thus chose to help someone who wasn't as lucky as he or Solveig. The Dunmer battlemage was shot by one of the bolts - had it not been for Roze moving in to help her, Sadri would have likely had to, and given the distance between them, the outcome likely would have been worse.

Upon Do'Karth's cry, Sadri looked beside him and came to witness that the sailor lad, Leif, had found himself in a similarly shitty position. Sadri, not in the time to think of any allegory or metaphor to relate to Leif's position, simply strafed to his side and punted away yet another spider, this time off the lad's chest. The one immobilizing Leif's arm was cleaved into two by a heavy upwards swing, sending its carcass into the air like some fatal version of golf.

''This isn't time to lay down, lad. Get up,'' Sadri quipped to Leif, mostly to strengthen his morale. He didn't look like he was in a condition to put up much of a fight, but a positive outlook always helped.