Journal Entry: Midas, 17th of Last Seed, 3E 417

Man, am I grateful to be here writing this. I made a very important, and exciting discovery recently, completely by fault. I was traveling by foot to the Imperial fort, Ebonheart, and was in a hurry to arrive there as soon as humanly possible. I was late and desperate to get there, and from my pack, I had withdrawn my rare and treasured scroll of Icharian Flight. I read the Daedric writing on the parchment scroll and felt a powerful force rush throughout my thighs. As I crouched into the takeoff position, I knew that I would travel a great distance, but was unsure of exactly how far I was from the castle. My scales stood partially up at a thirty-four-degree angle, a sign that I was subconsciously struggling with the idea of jumping. I spotted the castle ahead, but it had quickly passed underneath me, and faded into the horizon behind.

I had overleapt, and landed on a small island in the shape of Geth, inhabited by a pair of mudcrabs. I had noted a cluster of boulders on the southeastern part of the island, and came across a rusted, ancient cavern door, leading to a strange grotto. My first thought was that it was a smugglers' cave, one possibly forgotten for years. The door opened without struggle. Inside the grotto, the water was a beautiful, hypnotic turquoise, with a deep azure hue. As an Argonian, I had no trouble with breathing the mysteriously pure water, travel throughout the caverns, closely watching for Dreugh nests and Slaughterfish schools in the seagrass beds.

Clad in chitin armor, I swam with ease through the water. I continued further into the grotto, this one in particular seemed to stand out. The caves continued ahead, and I, eager to make a discovery, hastened my pace. As the seagrass parted affront of me, they revealed a clearing in the water: a half-opened sphere at the base of a giant, barnacle encrusted rock, concealing a Dwemer style hatch came to focus. I could hardly contain myself. I had found a lost Dwarven ruin!
            Apparently, when Red Mountain erupted in the 1E 668, the water levels in Tamriel, especially Morrowind, rose several hundred meters, and this Dwarven citadel was sitting beneath the ocean floor for ages, and was soon forgotten. I swam closer to the entrance, the half opened sphere frozen in place; I noticed Dwemeri writing on the doors, partially concealed by it. My Dwarven vocabulary skills were average to the great Baladas Demnivanni, I could barely make out the inscription on the door. Mudan: Shipment Checkpoint. A checkpoint? Then there should be something decent, and if not, I would have swam through this whole grotto for no apparent reason. That would set me back a whole week from my planned expedition to Bal Fell in the lush, tropical, Ascadian Isles region, which I had spent fifteen-thousand drakes preparing for.

As I forced the doors open, water rushed into the ruins, sucking me through the entrance as stale air rushed out, spinning me in circles until the water level equalized with the air pocket that remained inside the ruins. As I ventured around the left side of Mudan, I came across a ladder, leading to a tower. I wondered what artifacts could lie inside the tower of a place that had not been touched by man for centuries. As I scaled the ladder, I wondered if someone, or at least something, could actually be up there, above the hatch. My heart pounding, sweat trickling down my scales, drenched in cold water, I peaked through the hatch.

All that lay ahead of me was a few steel kegs, a Dwarven metal chest, and a skeleton, the skeleton of some courageous adventurer, who had set foot inside the ruins before I. He had been trapped inside the flooded ruins and took to higher grounds. I couldn't imagine what it would have been like for, trapped inside the tower of a submerged Dwarven citadel, months passing by without fresh water, or food, moist, seasoned crab meat, chewy for a few moments, with a strong, juicy, tender taste, then creamy, sweet, and then pushing it to the back of your throat with your tongue, and goes down into your gullet, leaving the tip of your taste buds lusting for more, yet leaving you satisfied for hours. I am saying this because I too have not eaten for an extended period of time, and I long for the physical, and mental satisfaction of a good meal, and I hope to receive such satisfaction when I get back to Balmora.
            I pushed the hatch further open and crept closer towards the skeletal remains. To the right was a bottle, it's contents emptied and hardened to the metal floor, and to the left, a barely legible note. I squinted and blinked, pausing momentarily for my eyes to adjust and focus to the scrawled writing. It turns out that this adventurer, Peke Utchoo, had worse problems than starvation at hand. After having an unsuccessful quarrel with a centurion, he mistook his bottle of poison, as his restore health potion, and his innards liquefied, ever so slowly and painfully.

As I read more of the note, I wondered what was so special inside Mudan. Why had Peke Utchoo gone so far for nothing? And why was he so determined to go further into the flooded halls? My questions were answered quicker than I could have hoped. Peke Utchoo had ventured into the depths of Mudan, seeking a treasure. A treasure? I asked myself. What treasure would still be lying in a ten-thousand-year-old Dwarven checkpoint? What began as a simple miscalculation, unfolded into a great hunt, for a treasure, perhaps priceless, forgotten for centuries.
            I rolled the delicate parchment and gently set it in my pack. Momentarily gazing between my claws, at the rusted metal floor, I caught a glimpse of light in my eye. I faced the skeletal corpse as if it would jump up at me, and looked at his hand. In the remaining four fingers of his left hand, was a key of Dwarven origin. But to what? The question echoed throughout my mind. To what?

From behind, I suddenly heard the scraping of metal against the floor of the ruin. I froze steadfast in absolute terror, my heart now beating as heavily as Skullcrusher in the depths of Anudnabia. My hunch was correct: Something indeed was inside Mudan. As I regained my confidence that my amateur skills would get me to the treasure, a sudden rush of adrenaline was all it took to give myself the courage and strength to venture down the ladder, and seek the source.

As my bare feet left the last bar of the ladder, I withdrew my inscripted ebony shortblade. As I crept along side the walls of the ancient remains of the Dwarven walls, blending with the shadows, I came across two separate paths that I could take. The stairs to the right led to a submerged door, and three doors to the left, all of them leading to the same room. I took the center door to the left, looking for a possible use for the key, yet still keeping an ever-vigilant eye out for what dangers could lie ahead. The water at my waist was no longer bitter cold, but lukewarm. I looked around the room, all that was there were three giant, well-shaped cylinders that had been sealed. For a split second, I had let my guard down, knowing that nothing was in the room. At that moment, a cone persisting of Dwarven metal broke the surface of the water. I stood there, stunned, as I dropped the shortblade at my feet. My mind was blank. I had lost the courage and strength to continue. With it's blade drawn, the Centurion swung with precision at me.

As my bare feet left the last bar of the ladder, I withdrew my Dwarven Claymore. As I crept along side the walls of the ancient remains of the Dwarven walls, blending with the shadows, I came across two separate paths that I could take; the two doors to the right led to a mid-sized room, and three doors to the left, all of them leading to the same room as well. I took the center door to the left, looking for a possible use for the key, yet still keeping an ever-vigilant eye out for what dangers could lie ahead. The water at my waist was no longer bitter cold, but warm, as if. I looked around the room, all that was there were three giant, well-shaped cylinders that had been sealed. For a split second, I had let my guard down, knowing that nothing was in the room. At that moment, a cone persisting of Dwarven metal broke the surface of the water. I stood there, stunned, as I dropped the claymore my feet. My mind was blank, my heart skipped a beat; there stood the ancient Centurion, crafted by the hands of the Dwarves themselves.

I gazed in awe at it. I had never faced anything of Dwemer origin before. My mind flashed information of previous books I've read about Dwarven ruins, and the book 'The Ruins of Kemel Ze' came to thought. A frost spell was used to freeze the giant Centurion that attacked the archaeologists... because all Centurions are steam powered! Of course! Yet, I had only a shock scroll. My mind raced madly for an answer. But alas, all I had brought was an Elemental Burst Fire scroll, a gift I had received from a dear friend Khajiit years back, why I had not used it, I do not know. I furiously thought of how to down the machine, yet I was short-minded and short-supplied. But in the far distance in the back of my mind, I had remembered my Blade of Atronach's Ice Breath: a powerful glass shortblade with an enchantment of frost whence it strikes upon the enemy.

With it's blade drawn, the Centurion swung with precision at me. I had not a moment but to leave the claymore below the shallow surface, and draw my blade from it's sheath. My strokes, swift and true, froze the Centurion in time. Streaks of crystals shot up over it, encasing the Centurion in a shell of azure ice. Yet it glowed bright red, and steam rose very fast off the surface of the Centurion as the melting ice trickled down the crystals, jutting out as sharp blue razors. Just then, the ice shattered, giving me several lacerations to my feet and face, which were unprotected. The vanilla white armor that concealed myself, now stained with blood, enraged me as my grip tightened of the blade. I lunged at the metal sphere, waiting for the tip of the blade to strike. Ice sprayed everywhere, ice, ice, ice. Blue crystals shot from the centurion and down the dark corridors of Mudan.