Despite the amount of time he had travelled the continent of Tamriel, and the various diverse peoples and jobs he had encountered, Solandil had never found himself at such close proximity to a Dwemer ruin before. When picking up the contract, the prospect of journeying so deep into the belly of a Dwemer construct didn't worry him in the slightest, but now, the pale Altmer considered his task of guarding those with him considerably more daunting. And he hadn't even really entered the place yet. While waiting with the others for Rhea to arrive, the lifeless, wicked automatons scattered around the group did not go unnoticed. Razor sharp spikes and pincers attached to many of the pieces, both broken and complete, didn't leave much to the imagination for how painful an encounter could be with one of them. One of the alive ones, that is, if you could even consider such mechanical demons to be living. Sol's silvery eyes darted over each construct in an almost feverish manner, examining everything he could to try and see potential weaknesses. Possibly the joints? No matter the type of creature, joints were nearly always an effective target to incapacitate a foe. But Solandil knew not what other surprises could come in the Dwemer creations. Ranged attacks? Larger, heavier constructs that relied on crushing rather than cutting? Whatever the case, Solandil swiftly decided that listening to the scholars would be the best route in protecting them. Otherwise his role as guard would swiftly become nothing more than a burden.

Nodding stiffly in response to Rhea as she acknowledged him and the other guards, Sol followed the group onto the lift, pondering other potential threats as they descended. Falmer would be an obvious one, of course. Chaurus' always bred with Falmer, so they'd be another issue. Spiders were another potential threat. This train of thought continued as the group made their way through the structure, his inner pondering only faltering as he caught sight of the motionless Centurion and the sheer size of the thing. It would take more than a few swings of his sword to take out the joints on that behemoth, that was for sure. The next lift ride was spent thinking about possible ways of bringing a fully-functioning Centurion down, when yet again, he was interrupted. Stumbling as the lift lurched to a stop, Sol, glanced at Rhea and the other experts, wondering if this was to be expected. And then suddenly, the rushing sensation of falling; the lift floor actually disappeared for a moment. For just a second, Sol wondered if this was really how he was going to die - surrounded by strangers, in a dark hole nobody civilised has been in for centuries, and his corpse never likely to be found again. 

The sudden crash was jarring at best, mildly painful at the worst. Solandil had never been the most graceful of individual's, and he had fallen in a most cumbersome and uncomfortable manner. Hissing as he hit the floor and a spike of pain shot along his cheek as it connected to the metal floor, Sol could only find solace that pain meant there was no death. The darkness however, was extremely daunting, and gave one a feeling of utter isolation, even in the presence of others. Eyes squinting in irritation as a magelight suddenly appeared, Sol got to his feet, briefly checking himself for injuries as the others did the same. Nothing serious, beyond a bruised cheekbone.

"Fine." He muttered gruffly in response to Rhea's question of everyone's wellbeing, straightening one of his gauntlets. His weapons and armour were undamaged for now, and by the looks of things, that was his best case scenario right now - from what he could tell, the group would be stuck down here for a long time. Falmer would not make things any easier, either.

As the group ventured forth, Sol once again silently cursed his lack of talent for magic. His vision was already poor, but night vision even moreso. In the dark, he may as well be as blind as the damned Falmer... knowing Magelight would have been severely helpful more than once in his life, and particularly so down in the depths of the earth. For now, he'd just have to stick with a mage. Hanging as closely to Rhea and her magelight as much as he could, both of his blades were drawn; pale skin looking bone white as the it stretched thinly across flexing knuckles, fingers gripping the hilt of his weapons far too tightly to be comfortable. With the ruckus the group (or, more fairly, the faulty lift) had made, it was bound to attracted the unwanted attention of Falmer. Sol was just waiting for them to appear. And as he slowly followed Rhea out into the large cavern of ruins, just that occurred.

Sol could only sigh in annoyance as the group below became known to him. [i]"I hate being right."[/i] He thought, readying his swords and sprinting to the building Rhea had pointed out. It was a useful choke point, and even with less numbers than normal, it would to be advantageous for them. Hopefully, anyway. As the Falmer swiftly descended on them, even Sol's poor eyesight couldn't avoid noticing the ugliness of their foe. He had heard they were blind, but up close, it was as if they had no eyes whatsoever. Skin paler than his, and sharp, yellowed teeth that looked more akin to weapons than tools for masticating. Nose wrinkling in disgust, Sol's first foe fell with a squeal as his head was cleaved in two.

"These things do not deserve the title of Mer." He spat quietly, the rush of battle beginning to fire up his rage and adrenaline. Two more Falmer fell, the first's arms being lopped off in a swing of one blade and it's head removed by his other; the second found itself speared onto his right blade, twitching corpse pushed off with Sol's foot as he looked to find a new foe. With the shamans and archers being taken care of by the others, Sol could focus on those nearby - and something this pathetic was not going to kill him.

His fourth kill landed a lucky blow; coming from the side in a dark spot where the light did not reach, it had inadvertently taken advantage of a weakness it didn't know Sol had. Slashing down with it's blade, Sol exclaimed in pain as it caught the his arm, by some sheer luck finding the spot between his pauldrons and armour. The cut wasn't deep or debilitating, but it caused enough pain and anger for Sol to retaliate with fury, slicing the creature groin to head with such force that a portion of it's head flew off into the darkness somewhere. Breathing heavily, he glanced at his shoulder, being able to take a breather as the fighting tapered off. They could relax. For now.

[hr][hr]

As the group caught their breath, Solandil had kept to himself, wiping the foul blood of the Falmer from his weapons and armour in the dim light, wincing if he moved his shoulder too much. Sol had always had a hard time trusting people, and this instance was no different. Several minutes after receiving his wounds, he hadn't felt any giddiness or fever, which meant poison had been highly unlikely. With no healing magic of his own, and unwilling to ask Brynja or any others for aid, Solandil had simply ignored the throbbing pain in his shoulder - he had no doubt there'd be another fight soon enough, and adrenaline did wonders for washing away the pain. He certainly wasn't going to waste one of his potions on something this minor, that was for sure.

Listening quietly as the group moved on, Sol's ears pricked up as he heard the term "Snow Elf". It was a term he'd heard plenty of times, though usually by way of an insult directed at him. It was the lesser known name of the Falmer... although, one could consider the two terms to belong to different races now. The Snow Elves were beautiful, while the Falmer were abhorrent. The Snow Elves were civilised, intelligent... the Falmer being the total opposite. As he trudged on, Solandil bitterly thought once again how awful the Falmer were. They should be wiped out - and as the group was suddenly told to shush, he realised that perhaps he wasn't the only one with that idea. There on the ceiling, what could only have belonged to the Dwemer, seemed insistent on wiping out any trespassers. Normally, that would mean Falmer, and Sol couldn't complain. Unfortunately, he doubted that even the Dwemer could create something sentient enough to discern monster from person. Listening as the others discussed their options, Sol considered the Khajiit for a moment before stepping forwards quietly.

"I can go with you. I'm quieter than I look, though I'll understand if you want someone a bit more...subtle, to accompany you." He whispered, glancing up nervously as the spotlight shone again. Even with his eyesight, the dark seemed much safer than being in the spotlight of that thing.