Rain's Hand 6, 4th Era Year 198
"Ah, my adventure-hunting friends. Are all of you prepared to delve deeply within the silt?"
The group before Aradi (Dunmer historian-turned-tourist guide) nodded, and gathered their things. They had mostly arrived to the camp by various means a day or two before. Those who felt like they wanted to play 'ruffian' had spent a night or two outside, here on the shores and sand, imagining the days of yore, when actual bandits had claimed this spot. Those who wanted comfier surroundings (or did not know the tour could unofficially begin before the date on their wax-stamped handouts) merely stayed at a nearby inn. But now, all of them were here.
"Good. Follow me, and please, watch your steps."
All twenty of them then commenced beyond the stone door, and found themselves within the gloom. Passed under pure-white stone arches in awe, walked single-file through an underground half-round. And then slowly made their way down dozens of steps; their footfalls softly echoing. It seemed the way into the main chamber took at least an hour. And finally, they were there, deep within the ground.
"How far down have we come?" asked one of the Nords, this one named Thor. "Seems like the Ayleids put an enormous amount of time and effort."
"Four-hundred twenty feet, not counting the exterior half-through and its initial staircase," their tourist guide answered. "Vilverin, also known as Wind Mist Ruins, was built during the Middle Merethic Era, possibly in construction well before the final capstones of White Gold Tower itself were being crafted, but yet not hauled upon the tops of the tower itself. Rough estimates would place Vilverin's dating well before the First Era indeed."
"...And the Ayelids of Vilverin," spoke a blonde-haired elf. "'Tis truth they turned towards the worship of daedra? Or are these learnings untrue?"
"Worship of daedra?" the tourist guide asked quizzically. "And you are?"
"Beth, though many call me Crystal."
"I see. Well, Crystal, the Ayleids are rumored to have indeed turned to the underworld to fabricate their hideous desires ...
rumored, I might stress, though the historical facts are all over, as you may have also gleaned within your learnings. And now, please, wander about! You've paid your gold, enjoy these solemn surroundings!"
The group moved throughout the enormous subterranean chamber, their imaginations stimulated.
The newly-founded 'Imperial Ruins Tourist Expedition' had become a roaring success for the Elder Council, during these lean, tough times. Money in their coffers, paid by many who wanted to learn about Cyrodiil's ruins of the past. Seven locations surrounding Lake Rumare: Sercen, Fort Empire, Fort Homestead, Fort Magia, Memorial Cave, Fanacassecul, and Fort Virtue, had become permanently cleansed, gentrified, and sanitized. These had all been featured during regional tours over the past year, or so. Vilverin itself was only partially ready for expeditions. Its furthest depths had not been completely cleared yet, but this was not really much of a problem, so far. Management of the Vilvern interior had simply made sure to hide any access to these areas.
Though Vilverin was no longer a preferred hideout for the still-numerous outlaws of Cyrodiil, the fact of the matter was that one could never be too careful. Back in the Third Era, and deep into the Fourth, Vilverin (indeed, all of the locations mentioned so far) were considered dangerous. Now, all were well-lit by magical sconces, and staffed by numerous henchmen, all to make sure the tourist expeditions would stay safe. And there were the pleasantries, as well. Here in Vilverin for instance, an entire table had been cleared for foodstuffs.
But as the group spread out and examined the underground, Aradi the tourist guide could not help but keep a twinge of nervousness at bay.
One man, a muddy-haired Imperial who had introduced himself to the tourist guide as Lucius (and who was rumored to be a descendent of the Caro family by a couple others in the group) stumbled upon a loose white block. Began moving it back and forth along the ground. Looking up at a nearby wall. And listening.
"I see you, hello!" Aradi surprised Lucius. "You won't find any hidden doorways, nor access any hidden treasure rooms, from here! I'm afraid the long-ago conquerors and adventurers have already secured any wealth stashed away. Such names you might have heard of: Saya, Buffy, Dyan phor a'Cauz, The Grey Wizard, Joan of Arkay, Falador, Lady Saga, Lothran, and so on. All have been here, long ago when these walls and halls still held outlaws. Nothing left to find now. We made sure of that."
Lucius Caro knitted his brow, as though puzzled. "Well but what sort of tour--" he began.
"Oy! this is locked! Why is this locked?" Another Nord, this one's name escaping the tourist guide, calling over. "There's a gate over here, seems like these ruins go further within and downward, yet it's locked."
"Sir
Dahh--?" the tourist guide cleared his throat. "Your name seems to have escaped my memory."
"Davor. Sir Davor Vyvoor."
"Yes, well, Sir Davor Vyvoor, there seems to be.... uhm, how can I put this?"
Aradi the tourist guide struggled with an explanation.
Those strongmen! They forgot to block the passage! he thought, trying to keep his face neutral.
They were supposed to move those crates over here, keeping the tourists from deeper discovery! ... But how could he explain?
Suddenly, the entire lot of them was crowding around, seemingly unsatisfied with the one area of Vilverin which had become permanently cleared, unsatisfied by the free buffet of food upon the center table, wanting to go further. Not possible. Though the upper main chamber of the ruins were safe, down below it was still treacherous. Filled with undead, mostly. Skeletons and zombies, and possibly even a wraith or two. And there was no way the newly-funded Imperial Ruins Tourist Affiliation would allow for actual investigation of those further depths, whether the subjects before him were carrying weapons, or not.
"Well we made payment, splendid amounts of gold, toward an affable interior delving," the blonde Nord with the funny name .. Lord Have something, brought up. "And from here, we cannot commence?" he asked, flummoxed.
Aradi the tourist guide gulped, wondering why he hadn't called for this expedition to be held at Fort Magia, instead.
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Turdas, 19 Sun's Dawn, 4th Era 202Fox .... Wolf ... Bear ... Snake? No!
Wolf .. Bear ... Snake ... Fox? Bloody hell!Sir Davor Vyvoor, now located far to the north in Skyrim, finally pulled the correct combination of levers, which caused a large iron grate across the room to move upwards. He'd been working this combination of levers, deep inside of Volskykgge, for hours now, while his party of Stormcloaks rested.
But he'd done it, and so they were all ready to move on. As he smiled in satisfaction at his final efforts of logic, Davor thought back to that muddy-haired man. The one who'd been part of that silly 'tourist expedition', along with a dozen or so others. The man who'd been rumored to be a descendent of Caro lineage. That man, Davor remembered, was the one who'd tried pushing that loose white block in the floor, while they were in Vilverin. He had been talking about coming to Skyrim also.
"I wonder what became of him?" Davor asked aloud, hoping not to stir some hidden draugr from entombment. "Ah, 'tis no matter. Time to move on."