Reforming the formation you held before the attack, you continue on your way through Black Shingle. The distant sounds of battle echo through the streets, and the denizens of imagination lurk in the burnt-out buildings. Corpses become more frequent.

A quarter of an hour later, the tower, your destination comes into view. It is much as you remember - a squat, windowless construction of dark stone, with perhaps three storeys. The wooden door, previously secured with a multitude of locks and chains, hangs wide open. What you can see of the interior is a plain rock floor, with some pieces of discarded refuse - the rest is hidden by shadow.

The tower lies at the centre of an intersection, where a large avenue and the smaller one you just came from meet. An alley - the site of your grueling battle with the dretch - also winds off in one direction.

Ygor turns to you, scratching his stubbly chin in thought. "Well, this is it. No sign of hostiles,
but I wouldn't count on it remaining that way. Would you prefer to secure the tower or the other streets? It may be wise to set up sentries along them."