Magnus messaged the team selected via wireless telegraph, while Llewellyn set off for the Arch Ministry's stables. With the help of the stable hands, the albinistic man selected four black steeds and proceeded to harness them to a stagecoach. By the time the transportation had been readied, his team members had arrived in full uniform.

The operatives all dressed in blue uniforms, similar to, but not exactly the same as what Llewellyn wore. Jackets with a slick look, padded pockets on the chest and at the hip level, as well curving design in the silver piping that led from the pointed shoulders down the button up front. Insignia of the Arch Ministry adorned the sides of their shoulders.

“Llewellyn,” said Imogene with a smile, “Good to see you.” She had to look down as she spoke to her superior seeing as she stood six inches taller than her commander. Her golden complexion complimented her wavy black hair which flowed to her back at shoulder blade length. She had a strong build, but not bulky, mostly concealed by the uniform. She adjusted her short-brimmed, blue capeline hat with her white gloved hands and looked to him as she climbed up to the driver's box. The deep brown eyes of the Amazonian woman set Llewellyn on edge as per usual.

He cleared his throat and regained composure, nodding to her as he questioned, “Likewise. I trust that Magnus informed you via telegraph of our situation?” He climbed up to sit aside her in the driver's box and took hold of the reins and looked to the triplets.

Three elven gentlemen, Finwe, Malwe, and Setwe who were commonly known as the triplets among the Han Kote operatives, stood before the pair with arms crossed, just to the side of the concord coach, “We were informed,” commented the three in unison. Identical in every feature, from their straight blond hair at shoulder's length, to their pointy ears and a short disposition putting them at no more than four foot seven. They dressed the same and talked the same, usually moving in unison or at least complimentary to one another.

“Karrn is a terror,” began Finwe. “The Northern Empires are a very savage place,” continued Malwe. “Savage beliefs and actions like his are to be anticipated.” finished Setwe, and with his words, the trio entered the coupe of the coach.

With a crack of the reigns the carriage departed. The metallic wheels of the stagecoach, rang out their rolling beats along the smooth-paved onyx streets of the city.

Headed from Main Street downtown to Whispering Way and Ninth, the Han Kote operatives drove along dodging in and out of traffic; people walking, horse drawn carts, rickshaws, steam buggies and the like. It felt like no time before they had reached their destination.

The Whispering Way Inn had not a gas light lit in the whole of the building. For a private residence this would not have seemed out of place, at this time of night, but this inn never closed its doors to the weary who might arrive at any time of the evening. The five disembarked from the stagecoach and set by foot up to the building's front doorway.

“Most unusual, we should move to search quickly,” began Finwe. “Three floors in total. We should spread out to search,” added Setwe. “I'll remain on the first floor, while each of my brothers accompany you to the other floors.” finished Malwe, reaching into his pockets and assembled a silver crossbow from smaller parts.

“Funny, I thought I was in charge here, what with being the commander on this mission.” posed Llewellyn.

“I thought it was a decent plan,” added Imogene.

“Well, it's not that I don't like the plan,” Llewellyn said as he looked to Imogene and then the Triplets, “It's just, I personally think, that future plans should come through the chain of command.”

“We're wasting time,” said Finwe, “We should go now,” said Malwe, “We need to move,” said Setwe.

Llewellyn nodded at the trio, as they talked together. They arrived at the door and gave it a try. Locked, he looked to the windows but all on the first floor were barred with thick cast iron. Llewellyn looked to Imogene, “Lights are all out, I think they are in a bit of trouble within. Do you think you could open the door for us?”

She nodded and drew her twin gun-hammers from their holsters. The weapons resembled a colt dragoon pistol but with the end of the grip reinforced, modified into heavy metal handled shillelaghs. Her custom machined pistols had been scaled up to her size and took fourteen gauge shotgun shells instead of bullets. Imogene used the barrels as the handle-grips for the hammers, then knocking off the door handle and bolt lock in two quick strikes. With a mighty kick she knocked the door in.

“Thank you Imogene. Now that the element of surprise is not so much an option, per the triplets' suggestion, we should hurry,” said Llewellyn as he drew his own, somewhat smaller, gun hammers and entered the lobby. He stood next to Finwe as he looked to the elven weapon and gave the reminder, “Remember, this is just an errand.”

“We've got knock out bolts,” began Finwe, “feathered end to slow travel,” added Malwe, “Non-lethal, unlike the two who have guns,” finished Setwe.

“Salt rounds,” said Imogene as she displayed her gun hammers, “Hurt like hell though,” she added as she entered the building and headed up to second floor alongside Finwe.

“Salt rounds?” asked Llewellyn, “Here I brought rubber bullets like a fool.”

The building's interior had the appearance of a quaint gingham design in sharp contrast to the Gothic exterior that all the city's buildings shared. Clutter lay about the lobby as though people had simply departed in the middle of their day to day activities. Not one person seemed left in the inn as Finwe and Llewellyn made their way through the wide hallway, checked room after room. They split up and quickly covered the first floor.

“This is strange... Should be the base of operations but there is not a person in sight,” commented Llewellyn, “Have the others found anything yet?”

“Checking,” began Finwe. He seemed to concentrate a moment, then paused mid-step, before he resumed, “Malwe has seen not a soul, and it would seem that Imogene and Setwe are in the same boat. We will keep our eyes open though.”

“I don't feel right about this in the least,” said Llewellyn checking another empty room. Only two doors remained unchecked.

“We know how you feel,” said Finwe, “Malwe is headed down to the cellar now. But we think that there may have been a mislead here.”

“Have him wait. Intel said this was the place. We should all head down there as a group.” ordered Llewellyn, “Safety in numbers and all that.”

With one final room to check, Finwe stopped. He remained motionless and quiet. Llewellyn checked the room but found it as empty as the rest, “Malwe?” asked the elven triplet to no one.

“What is it, Finwe?” asked Llewellyn

“Something’s not right,” came the answer.

Llewellyn gave a nod to the elf, “I was just saying that.”

“No. You don't understand... I can't sense Malwe. I think he is unconscious.” stated Finwe. He looked back and forth as though he searched for some unseen thing, troubled that he was unable to connect with his brother, “The link is cut off. He must not be conscious.”

“Is there a limit to the range or anything that could be causing interference?”

“Not that I've found. If he were awake we would be able to sense it,” said Finwe. He looked to the taller man with a greater sense of urgency. The floor they resided on seemed deserted and from Finwe's description, Imogene and Setwe hadn't any better luck.

“Have Setwe tell Imogene that we are all going to meet by the entrance to the cellar,” directed Llewellyn, headed for the stairs with the elven man in tow, “We're going to find your brother, Finwe.”

In the dark of the gas-lit hotel, the four that remained gathered in the front lobby. They sparked up a few more gas lamps to illuminate their surroundings. The building appeared abandoned.

“This is not the last place he was,” began Finwe. The two remaining triplets locked eyes for a moment before Setwe continued, “We have to go through the kitchen. That is where it went black.”

“Lead the way,” commanded Llewellyn. He let Finwe and Setwe lead on. The two triplets moved in unison and their synchronicity seemed to have intensified to aid in the search of their brother. They led Imogene and Llewellyn through the foyer, the dining hall, and then to the back of the kitchen.

In the back, two steel doors led to the wine cellar. Finwe and Setwe spoke in unison, “He went down there,” as they tried the door handles. Neither door would budge.

“It’s locked…” began Setwe.

“From the other side,” continued Finwe

“Right. Step aside,” said Imogene, as she readied her gun-hammer revolvers. She pounded at the doors with the reinforced hammer-end of her guns. Neither a dent nor scratch sullied the thick cast iron. She stopped before she broke her sidearms, then gave the doors a few kicks and tried to pull the handles herself. She looked to the two remaining triplets. Distraught, she shook her head, “Solid cast iron. I’d break my guns or bones before budging these doors, and that still wouldn’t open them.”

Finwe turned to Llewellyn, “You know what you have to do.”

“We’re running out of time,” Setwe chimed in.

Llewellyn approached the heavy doors and put a hand on them. He stood upright as he said“I’ve only worked with wood before. Never anything metal.”

“We could try unhinging the doors, or maybe break up the floor in another spot,” suggested Imogene.

“Unlikely,” began Finwe, “If it is as we remember from Malwe’s entrance, the door is welded to the rebar in the concrete floors of this level.”

“It was the last thing he saw…” finished Setwe.

With a sigh, the tall, pale, man removed his glasses and closed his eyes. He concentrated and gave a quick warning before he began, “Remember. Whatever you do, do not look into my eyes. Bad things have happened when I’ve done this before. It’s best just to look away till it’s over.”

The three with him averted their gaze. A moment later, Llewellyn opened his eyes and they glowed blue. The twin cerulean lights projected forth and met with a symbol in the center, which looked like a crescent moon within two overlapping octagons. One spun clockwise and the other counter-clockwise. They cast luminescence upon the wall across from Llewellyn until he looked at the cellar doors, redirected the runes and spoke only one word, “Open.”

The lights in his eyes went out and metal of the door rolled back on itself. The cast-iron door obeyed the command until a circular opening, wide enough for a man to walk through, made way. The shrieking of metal deformation ceased and Imogene acted quickly to catch her superior officer as he collapsed.

Llewellyn seemed short of breath as he took the handkerchief from his jacket pocket, then attempted to stop a nosebleed set on from the ordeal, “I’ll be fine. We should hurry.”

Imogene set the eyeglasses back on the bridge of his nose. Setwe and Finwe retrieved lanterns from one of the kitchen shelves then handed them to Imogene as Llewellyn recovered enough to stand under his own power. The four proceeded down into the dark of the cellar.

They made their way down, and found the cellar to be as empty as the hotel it lurked under, but they did notice that on the far wall there appeared to be a tunnel out from the dank, dark room. They saw lights and heard footsteps from the point of egress.

That’s when they came. People wearing hooded, black cloaks poured in through the tunnel like howling madmen. The four dropped their lanterns and drew weapons as the hooded madmen swarmed into the cellar and immediately lashed out.

The cloaked attackers had no weapons but they grabbed and flailed almost mindlessly. They lashed out with their limbs to strike wild and blind. A dozen of them in the first wave.

The cloaked men came upon Imogene first, as she took point in front of the other three. She dropped the first two immediately, her revolvers unloading salt rounds square in their chests, knocking them back to a third that followed close behind.

They ran through so rapidly that four more met with Finwe and Setwe. Imogene flipped her guns hammer-side to fight the up-close intruders. The elven brothers unloaded knock out bolts, rapid fire, from their wrist-mounted cross bows. They dropped a dozen of them with Imogene. She alternated between using the hammer hilt of her revolvers and shooting salt rounds, switching quickly between the two as needed, while Llewellyn picked them off down the corridor.

He looked over the rim of his glasses, seeing further down the tunnels as a second wave approached. The albinic man shot into the dark and never missed a target as the other three handled the cloaked attackers that made it into the room. Rubber bullets knocked the impacted targets unconscious with pinpoint accuracy in every strike. The hall and room fell silent as the oncoming attackers dropped to the floor, rendered unconscious or otherwise immobilized.

Llewellyn broke the silence, “I really hate blood drones. They move so… unsettling.” He looked over the rim of his glasses, checked down the tunneled corridor, and saw nothing on approach.

Imogene smelled something from the point of egress, “Something smells very pungent down that tunnel. I think it wafted in with the crowd…” she coughed and covered her nose to breath against her gloved hand.

Finwe and Setwe did not seem to have much input and sped down the tunnel quick as they could run. “There is a reason for the stench,” began Finwe, as he exited to the other side of the tunnel.

“This tunnel exits into the sewage system,” continued Setwe.

They looked up and down the sewer tunnel both ways, noting that there were torches along the walls, and other tunnels which must have emptied into other buildings on the surface. A walkway ran along either side of the sewer pipe and a stream of refuse and sewage ran between the walkways like a river of street sludge. The elves looked about and continued to lead Llewellyn and Imogene.

“This is not the only base of operations. There are quite a few tunnels, exiting the sewers here…” started Finwe.

“What was the source of our intel on this particular mission?” asked Setwe.

Llewellyn and Imogene followed the remaining triplets through the sewers of Raith. Every building along Whispering Way had tunnels from the sewers connected to their cellars. Imogene noticed a broken hand held drill discarded on the ground near the sewer entrance to the Whispering Way Inn. She held it up for Llewellyn, who adjusted his glasses and read aloud, “Clox Brothers Clockworks Shop. I do believe we’ll have to look into that later.”

While Llewellyn and Imogene looked at the backpack drill, the two remaining triplets closed their eyes in focus before they pointed and spoke in unison, “He’s this way.”

The sound of footfalls echoed from the howling madness of the blood drones as they performed the bidding of their master and rushed upon the party of four.

The group readied their weapons, reloaded, and rushed onward to meet the crowd head on. Suddenly Finwe and Setwe stopped cold. Imogene noticed and pulled Setwe by the hand, only to find that he could not be moved.

The swarm of blood drones set upon the group. As Llewellyn and Imogene took defensive stances, ready to protect their elven comrades, the blood drones simply halted. They lined the walkways to either side of the sewer pipe.

The legion of blood drones gathered in a number than had ever been witnessed by any of the Han Kote operatives. Llewellyn and Imogene looked to one another, unsure what to do. Finwe and Setwe stood motionless. Then the legion spoke as one. The voice seemed to rise from the middle of the crowd and spread outward, “The Raith Ministries… How amusing that they should think my operation was so small that only a handful would be needed to ensnare me.”

“I assume that this is Karrn speaking,” said Llewellyn, “What have you done with Malwe?”

“Ah, the elf. One of three. Linked by family. Linked mentally. I suspected they may even share the same life force. What an interesting outcome, wouldn’t you say?” spoke the legion.

Imogene tightened the grip on her large gun-hammer revolvers, “Release them now!”

Karrn’s blood-controlled legion spoke again, “You are in no position to demand anything of me. With their species not suiting my needs, I do feel most inclined to release them. However, I fear you will find it is not in the manner that you may have wished.”

Setwe and Finwe were lifted off the ground and flung to opposite walls of the sewer pipes. They flailed and grasped at their necks as they choked on an invisible force. Llewellyn and Imogene did their best to try and pull them down as the legion spoke once more. “It is too bad they are of elven blood. It is of no use to me.”

A sickening kashl squelched out of the pair. The necks of the elves cracked as they turned in a way they were never meant to. The bodies dropped to the ground, lifeless; the heads of the dead elves facing backwards.

Imogene dropped to her knees before the body of Setwe. She only lifted the lifeless form from the ground for a short moment before it sank in that he was truly gone. She gently returned his body to the cobblestone walkway where it initially fell. She moved a hand across his face to close the eyes that were fixed with a look of horror in his final glance.

Llewellyn bounded across the seven foot wide drainage stream to the opposite walkway. He put a hand on the shoulder of his fallen friend and ministry partner. He closed his eyes then did the favor to his departed elvin friend. Thereafter he turned his pained glare across the way to have it met with Imogene's own. They shared a determined gaze as the tall, pale, man then pressed his glasses back against the bridge of his nose. He stood in unison with her, facing the legion of Karrn.

“How... touching,” spoke the legion, before the previously unconscious lot from the cellar of the inn marched forth to block the exit. “Big things are coming, little ones.”

“Crowd dispersal pattern sigma?” suggested Llewellyn.

“An awful lot of them for just the two of us. And they seem to make faster recoveries under the blood control,” responded Imogene.

“Too true, but there's hardly another option at the moment,” stated Llewellyn.

“You are the commanding operative, sir,” said Imogene as she and Llewellyn readied the shillelagh sides of their gun-hammer revolvers. They charged forward into the crowds on either walkway. They aimed for the legs and pushed them off into the stream of street sewage that separated the two walkways.

It took the legion a moment to begin their retaliation through the mental commands of Karrn, which gave the remaining Han Kote Operatives a small head start on their push back.

The pair fought well but the number of blood drones overwhelmed them. Llewellyn had time to reload one of his revolvers before the legion toppled completely over him as a wave of screaming humans. He hit one after another and either knocked them down and out or pushed them into the river of filth. They kept at it pressing forth faster than he could knock them aside. Llewellyn struggled with the non-lethal combat while Imogene seemed to excel.

Imogene did not bother to reload as she knocked them into the stream and pushed them off into one another. Soon the crowd built up and they rushed her as a singular powerful force. She focused on the fight and did not see when her commanding operative fell to the blood drones.

Llewellyn succumbed to the numbers that swarmed over him. Dozens of people climbed atop him and struck wild blows that, in such overwhelming odds, rendered him unconscious. The last thing he saw, before he slipped out of consciousness was just how fiercely Imogene could fight.

She made it a bit further through the human swarms charging through and knocking down several people. Imogene picked up two at a time and tossed them into the encroaching crowd, knocking down more of the blood drones. She tried with all her fury to fight but hundreds pushed on her by a single will. The strong woman lost her footing. The flood of humans engulfed her, and she fell into to an unconscious state from the ever persistent blows.

“Llewellyn!”

How long have I been out for? Thought Llewellyn as he came to in an odd kind of ceremonial chamber. The stench of the sewer still hung heavy around him so they must not have gone into any of the buildings surface-side.

“Llewellyn!”

The black-cloaked blood drones held him by the arms and kept him standing up right. Four revolvers lay at his feet. Red tapestries hung on the wall and an elevated platform had been erected in the middle of the room.

“Llewellyn!” Imogene cried out again, drawing his attention at last. Her arms were bound behind her with thick cast-iron chains that wrapped her entire torso. She hung atop the platform in the center of the room and slowly spun counter-clockwise as the chains that bound her were hooked to the ceiling. He returned from the daze of his unconscious state to see that Karrn stood next to her.

Karrn looked like a Neanderthal, as did all of the Vroleks, except that his skin, flushed deep red, his caliginous hair rang of pitch black, and his proportions must have put him around four hundred pounds. He looked more like a gorilla than a man, except that he stood upright and wore a well-kept black box-coat and full suit to accompany it.

“So he returns to the living at last,” Karrn grunted, his voice like the deep growl of a large dog. The Vrolek gave Imogene a bit of a push to spin her more upon her chains.

“Imogene!” exclaimed Llewellyn, fully back to his senses, “What have you done to her?”

“This most excellent female human specimen? Why I've done nothing to her except prepare her for the very same treatment you will soon receive. I would say that my Lorner Skel, or blood drones as you may call them, are nearing a count of three hundred.” said Karrn. “I thought it would be most entertaining to have you watch before seeing what was to transpire for you as well... Llewellyn? Was it?” a sickening grin of gnarled teeth spread across the face of the monster.

“I can't move Llewellyn. Can't get loose.” said the slowly spinning Imogene.

“This is your only warning to let her go, Karrn.” informed Llewellyn

“Warn away. What are you going to do? Spit in my general direction?” grinned Karrn as he watched the albinic man struggle.

Without a word Llewellyn pulled his right arm free, kicked his revolver from the ground before him, to his hand and unloaded on their Vrolek captor. The six shots emptied so fast it sounded like a single, loud, blast. The blood drones redoubled their efforts and restrained the tall, pale man once more. In the struggle to prevent his being held, the silver-rimmed glasses fell from his brow and hit the ground with a crack.

Karrn stood with six fresh holes in his suit but his grin did not waver in the least. He looked down at his suit, punctured by the bullets fired. He brushed downwards, along himself, and the bullets fell out from under his box coat then rattled on the ground. The Vrolek looked to Llewellyn, “Live rounds? And here I thought you were carrying rubber bullets to subdue?”

“I changed out on the last reload,” said the tall pale man, “Thought you might befitting more than rubber bullets.”

“I must say that you have indeed begun to awaken an anger within me that I feel must not go unquelled. Yes. The female shall no longer be converted.” Then Karrn placed a large, monstrous hand over top her head, “Instead, she shall be the first blood added to my bath.”

“Get your hand off of me!” Imogene punctuated with a kick that would have doubled over a normal man. It did not seem to affect the monster as he kept his grip over her head.

“Now now dear, if bullet's have little more than a tickle to me, what hope do your thrashings have?” Karrn asked gripping one of her legs. Though the kicks did stop when she saw a familiar, blue, glow light up the side of the monster's face. She became still and clenched her eyes shut tightly.

“What's all this th...” began Karrn as he looked towards the tall man, though unable to continue as he looked to the bright blue light that shone forth onto his face. The blood drones released their grips on Llewellyn but he did not move from where he stood.

As the Vrolek's gaze met with that of the tall pale man's, his eyes sublimated from within his head. His grip released and both of his hands came to the side of his head. His mouth opened wide, unable to formulate anything but an unearthly scream as he could not break the stare even as his eyes went from a solid to gaseous state inside his skull.

The blood drones seemed to all repeat his action, then fell to their knees and screamed as one with their master. Their eyes did not sublimate but the pain transferred, till the grip he held on them released, and they fell like a stack of dominoes, onto each other, unconscious.

Llewellyn spoke but one word, “Open.”