Quinn - Hergelund chuckles wearily, and sighs. "Quinn, I'm an old, tired dwarf. I've had great times, but the adventurin' life is too exciting for me." He and S exchange a knowing look. "I'm gonna help fix things up around here. But then I'm going to retire. Mebbe find a nice cottage somewhere and raise Agnes in peace."
"I propose you and Agent S become the new head of law enforcement for this city, and recruit new police. I was wrong about things, Quinn. I can't do better than you. Time to hand the torch over to de younger folks. It's yer time now."
"Mebbe after things are settled here, you can even help S with troubles in her own homeland, back in the east..."
Hergelund hugs Quinn. "Thank ye, my friend! Ye saved me from my dunderhead actions and a fate worse than death!" He smiles happily at Agnes. "And ye saved the girls too!"
The red glow in Hergelund's eyes dims. His incisors retract back to normal dwarf-sized teeth. His arms drop to his sides, and he lays on the floor. "Quinn..." He reaches out with crooked fingers to his friend.
The injection catches Hergelund by surprise. "Sssssssss!" He crawls on all fours, twitching like an insect, up the side of the sewer wall, and disappears into shadows at the top of the storm drain. He clings to the wall, and turns until he is facing down, looking at you. His eyes glow in the dark.
"That bought some time, whatever ye did," he hisses. "Mebbe...ye can save... Find...the...vampires. Kill them...before too late..."
You have a vision of the dwarf losing himself and running off like a rat, away into the sewers.
You blink. He's still there, looking at you and clinging to the wall.
At the rear of the alcove appears a pinpoint of red light. It runs along the bricks like a lit trail of gunpowder, first across, then down, the height and shape of a panel or a door. A chamber that wasn't there before? The line of red light burns in your vision. As if traced by a finger from the infernal realms, some devil carving open a portal. The panels slides slightly ajar.
Hergelund raises his head, becomes slightly more alert. "Quinn?" he asks. "Quinn, my boy, is't you?" He coughs, and continues to look around, unseeing. "I want ta come clean about things. Alright then...I faked me own kidnapping. Went on ahead. Figured t'was on my shoulders to defeat Hareton. Thought ah could do the job. Couldn't trust it ta you and yer friends. Too risky. Too much risk."
"Tried to stay one step ahead of ye. Even beat ye to the tower when y'all summoned it. I snuck in." He shrugs. "Was in...bat form..."
A memory (of Ianez's) outside the tower... A swarm of bats flaps around the tower with high-pitched squeaks, but they are higher up and seem to be ignoring you.
"Was going to wait 'til yer group got the hour hand, then clobber ye senseless, and go on myself to fight Hareton. But I'm only one dwarf, ye'd be right to point out." He frowns. "Am embarrassed to say, I did something...ah, Quinn! I did the unthinkable! I went to the enemy! I...I got meself mixed up with..." He can't bring himself to say it. "With undead! With vampires!" he wails in his degradation and shame.
He looks up at the monk. "Oh, Quinn! What did I do? I let 'em bite me. Now I'm their thrall and turning into a vampire meself!"
Blood flushes into his pupils. They turn bright red. "Maybe it's not too late!" He reaches out for Quinn, but misses and clutches only the empty darkness. "Get me the hour hand! Ye and yer friends." His incisors sharpen and elongate slightly. He smiles deliriously, as if in a fever dream. His speech loses some of its dwarvish brogue, and becomes slightly more smooth and aristocratic. "Yes. Yes. Quinn, that's it. That's what you must do. Get me the hour hand, and let me obtain my glory."
"One more thing..." It seems the claustrophobia of the sewers did get to the dwarf. He won't stop talking. "Try to avoid my former apprentice, Acrietia. She's out there somewhere. The undead got her." He shudders.
Only moments before there was complete silence. But now you all hear smashing glass. From Phoebe's room come sounds of an intense scuffle...furniture breaking, things banging about.
"Help!" Hergelund cries out. "They got me! They got me! A bunch of werewolves!"
Hergelund coughs. "I'll let ye all finish up here. Better check the doors and windows of this place, make sure we're still secure."
It sounds like his usual paranoia talking. But he may have a point...better safe than sorry. The dwarf tromps over to the hallway, pauses a moment deciding which way to go, decides against the front door, and ascends the stairs up to Phoebe's bedroom.
Hergelund's beard twitches. He grumbles to himself, satisfied with how your party and the twins have come together, working in cooperation. "Very good, very good," he mutters. He totters over and stands by the wall, and watches the proceedings.
"The shocking thing is not those two over there" Hergelund says, jerking a thumb towards Caromarc and La Siréene, "but that the key is in there and yer all just standing around out here! What are ya waitin' fer? This ain't an official police investigation!"
It's a replay of the first time you met. At least when most of you first met him.
"I hear ya," a gruff voice says from the darkness. "No need fer traps. Unless I'm the one settin' 'em. Which I usually am." This is followed by a wheezing cough. "Quinn, what kind of dainty lady clothes do yer have yerself all gussied up in now? Like I said before and I'll say it again. Yer a dunderhead."
The dwarf, Hergelund, hobbles out from a darkened alleyway. "Where is S?" he says. He gives a low whistle. "She didn't make it, did she?" His cheek twitches. "Those sorcerers, a bad lot they are."
"I am glad I caught up with ya. Did ya get the key?"
Hergelund digs from his pocket a small device with a button on one end. He presses the button. You hear clinks, clanks, metal hasps coming unlatched, and the sound of hydraulic decompression. Some of it near, some of it farther along down the sewers.
"There," he says. "It will take you nigh but ten minutes to get to the rest place. I disarmed all the traps for ye. They'll reset after ten."
"After ye rest, I'll do this again just long enough ye can get the rest of the way through the sewers."
Hergelund's confidence drops away. At a loss for words, he stutters, "Er...no I'm afraid." The news pierces his gruff demeanor. "But...do not worry. We have the cause of right on our side! We'll find a way to help ye. Of this, aye'm certain."
Hergelund answers La Siréene. "The club allows members, big-evil-sorcerer-slicked-hair-types in tuxedos and velvet dinner jackets, girlfriends of sorcerers in corsets and high heels, butlers, maids, a bartender, a harp and a harpsichord player, and the like. Lots of folks dressed in black."
"One more thing..." It seems the claustrophobia of the sewers did get to the dwarf. He won't stop talking. "Try to avoid my former apprentice, Acrietia. She's out there somewhere. The undead got her." He shudders.
"She's one of the bad ones."
The dwarf has finally run out of words. "Any questions?"
"You have the standard options at your disposal. Usual bag of tricks. You're a cop just making his rounds nothing out of the ordinary, disguise, break-in, subterfuge with some made up story, magic, etcetera. S might be able to provide you cover. What the hell, Quinn? Does a dwarf have to come up with everything? Improvise, man!"
"The other thing: I'll send Quinn along, but I'm not going with you. Too dangerous. I have scouting and errands to do in the meantime. Make sure our defenses are secure. Coming at this from the other side."
"The next step...I'll disable my traps. You make your way through the sewers to where they connect with the Gaslight Deeptrain Platform: Lamp Stop. From there, you'll emerge back into the streets near Ashcaster Lane. You'll find waiting another operative of mine, a gnome driver. It shouldn't be much of a problem to get there."
He goes into the alcove and throws a couple of blankets around. There's a brown sack heaped against the wall. "I'll give you some gold I stockpiled fer expenses. And if yer group wants to, ye can stay in my hidey-way and get some rest for the night, before heading out again. My traps'll keep us safe while you sleep."
Your party has the option of resting at this point if you would like.
Hergelund squints and sizes up the druid. He grunts in satisfaction. "A good one," he notes to himself. He turns around, hitches up his pants, and continues. ""If the rest of ye feel this way, I will say more."
"The organization maintains their headquarters in Ashcaster Lane. S'nice architecture, sum ol' library type place. Fancy. A place for them to haf drinks and keep all their occult books layin' around. Like those hellfire clubs you expect to find in places like Cheliax or Taldor. One of those."
"I know Quinn has own his thoughts on these matters, but I think we're in agreement about this. As much as we agree about anything. I haven't even told him this...sorry, Quinn...but I've already gone ahead and infiltrated the club with my own operative. Code name: S. Tian-Min, originally from the Minkai archipelago."
"The plan is you meet up with "S" at the club. She's posing as a servant. She'll debrief you and together you will find the key."
Hergelund sniffs and rubs his beard thoughtfully. "While my friend has this spat wit' yer lady friend, I have a proposition for ye," he says. "I derno if I should trust ye with this information, but see'in as things are so unpredictable, I think I got no choice."
He clasps his hands behind his back and paces back and forth. "There is a secret organization. Well, let me back up. There are many secret organizations. But the one I'm about to tell you about is what matters to us."
"It consists of high-level sorcerers. Evil group of numbskulls, but not the in-your-face kind, ye know? The kind that wear tailored suits, big rings, talk in that nice honeyed way that makes ladies swoon and keeps a chap off his guard. The kind that hide in plain sight. That kind. Real big shots, and believe me, they have the power and will to carry out much devious doings."
"Well...there is also this special...key. I had this key and they were after it. They got it from me too. Bad business that. Very bad business. The key is powerful. I don't mind telling you, it could be the thing that turns the tide of all...this." Hergelund waves his hand indicating the above-ground goings-on.
"Very powerful..."
"I was so stupid and let it slip through my fingers!"
The dwarf laughs an ironic chuckle. "No, they wurn't poisoned," he replies. "At least not these ones. And I wurn't nes'sarily aimin' to catch the likes of you."
"The name is Hergelund," he continues. "I'm a witch hunter. Been down here awhile in the sewers. Like a rat. Work off the grid. Have to. I'm sure you've seen what's above ground lately. Specially t'night. All hell's broke loose."
"This one in the dainty finery here is Quinn," he says, jerking a thumb at the half-elf. "He operates more officially. For the police. Do ye care that I told them that, Quinn?" He shrugs. "Eh, don't care. That's me, shrewd but reckless. It don't matter. Still a good one if ye ask me."
Hergelund hobbles up to your party and looks you up and down. "T'night might be the end of the world. Don't know if ye are good ones or not. Far as I see, can either state yer business and see if we can work together." He plants his feet and folds his stubby arms. "Or we can do the monsters werk and finish each other off!"
A dwarf hobbles out of the alcove. He wears battered leather armor and a large crossbow strapped to his back. His face is battle-scarred, his beard full of dirt and scraggly. He wears a black eyepatch over his right eye.
Behind him follows a male half-elf with a chiseled physique. He is bald, with a scar over his left eye. His clothes are sensible, but well taken care of and nicer; a monk's robe along with deer-hide boots. Noticeably, his knuckles are large and disproportionate. There is something official-looking about the way he carries himself.
The dwarf coughs again. "I'm not sick. Able-bodied and can take on the likes of you, which answers yer question!" He tromps towards Ianez. "What do we have here? Someone sprang one of my traps! If anyone needs help, it's this here friend of yers."
He looks around and inspects the remains of his handiwork.
