It doesn't take long for you to understand why Bouchard's hidden tunnel has remained a secret until now. Not only does the cramped passage wind this way and that as though it were laid in the earth by a drunk with no understanding of water runoff or efficiency, but the ceiling is so low that you need to crouch almost into a sitting position to move forward, all but crawling through a wet, moldy layer of slime. Only the sharp, artificial light of LED lamps on the mercenaries' helmets holds total darkness at bay, their constant bobbing and shifting playing havoc with the jittery shadows of the two ghoulish Nosferatu ahead of you.
You can hear Lucca muttering furiously, and even you have to admit that this is entirely un-befitting of a Blue Blood. Sending the Nosferatu down here to slink through the ooze would be one thing, but you've just about reached your limit. You just count yourself lucky that you don't have to breathe; the mortals among your party must be seriously reconsidering their life choices.
Jordan stops ahead and you can hear a whisper passing its way back from person to person. "Almost out. Larger room ahead. Stay quiet and move slowly." You pass the word on to Lucca and continue to shuffle along until you feel the ceiling blissfully ascend. Finally, you can walk upright again! It's hard to keep from gasping an audible groan of relief.
"We're here," Bouchard gurgles. "Just west of the rooms beneath Parliament."
Sewage runs in rivulets down the crags of Qui's face as he commands his mercenaries with frenzied hand gestures into some semblance of order. In a matter of minutes, the hunting party is ready to march into battle. "They'll know we're coming by now," the Sheriff warns. "Their gifts might not let them read the future, but they can sense which way the winds are blowing. Be ready for anything."