Session 17 — Mission Black Tower
The river carried them in silence.
An old fisherman worked the oars alone, hunched and steady, saying nothing as Blacktower rose ahead—dark stone biting into the night sky. The borrowed uniforms itched with borrowed authority: black slacks, crisp white shirts, black vests, and long trenchcoats with collars turned up against the cold. On each right shoulder, the insignia of the tower: a red moon rising behind a stark tower, marked with a stylized H.
This was not a raid.
This was infiltration.
Their priorities were clear and spoken only once:
- Rescue Madam Doren
- Rescue Elroc
- Obtain evidence — dangerous, optional, but powerful
Torvold Alric alone wore half plate beneath his coat, steel hidden under fabric. Everyone else relied on confidence, forged papers, and the hope that no one looked too closely.
Entry
The sewer outlet was massive—too large, Mol noted, for simple drainage. Blacktower swallowed more than water.
Corwin Thorne stepped off the boat first, boots firm on stone, paperwork already in hand. Zel Cunningham and Leda Gebhart followed, faces neutral. Torvold came last, looming but controlled. Mol Potts did his best to look forgettable.
The Sergeant of the Watch barely glanced at the documents.
They were waved inside.
The main entrance of Blacktower smelled of oil, iron, and damp stone. The party walked as if they belonged—no haste, no hesitation.
It almost worked.
Almost.
A guard stopped Corwin, eyes narrowing, questions sharp. Corwin tried to talk his way through it—too fast, too clever.
The tower answered with steel.
Combat — The Threshold
Violence erupted in tight quarters.
Corwin moved first, blade flashing as he lunged. Guards scrambled, weapons drawn.
Zel abandoned subtlety, drawing steel and striking fast. Mol hurled alchemical fire and patched wounds in the same breath. Torvold advanced like a wall, knocking guards unconscious rather than dead, taunting them as they failed to break his guard. Leda’s magic crackled as she struck, claws carving through black uniforms.
One by one, the guards fell—some unconscious, some burning, one fleeing before Mol ended it with fire.
The corridor fell silent.
Bodies were dragged out of sight. Blood was wiped. Breathing slowed.
Blacktower did not yet know it was under attack.
Inside Blacktower
Zel and Leda moved to the captain’s station, using the stolen book and coded records. The truth was written plainly in numbers and levels:
- Madam Doren — Level 3
- Elroc — Level 5
They chose to go down first.
Torvold and Corwin tore through the portcullis with controlled violence, steel screaming briefly before yielding. Below, Torvold drew guards away with presence and threat while Corwin and Mol slipped into the cells.
Elroc was found alive.
Chains were cut. Guards who interfered were dispatched quickly and quietly.
Then they moved upward.
Level Three — Complications
Madam Doren was not the only soul worth saving.
Zel recognized a familiar face: a professor from Valin College, imprisoned and terrified. She refused to leave him behind.
Corwin unlocked the cell.
Disguises were swapped. Prisoners became guards. Guards became shadows.
The tower shifted around them, unaware.
The Office Above
Corwin and Leda climbed higher.
Leda used Gecko Grip, slipping outside the tower itself, scaling cold stone in silence. She reached an upper office and slipped inside.
The walls told a story.
Portraits. Sketches. Lists of suspects. Names crossed out. Others circled.
On the desk: papers detailing magical capabilities of Blacktower’s inquisitors—not just training, but innate power. This was no ordinary prison.
Corwin uncovered sealed documents, damning and dangerous.
Then he distracted a guard.
When he turned back—
The professor was gone.
Vanished into the tower’s depths, or freed by another hand.
Among the papers was one final revelation, written with deliberate restraint:
G.C.
Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild of Valinport.
Where It Ends
They had entered Blacktower wearing borrowed authority.
They left it carrying truth.
Madam Doren was alive.
Elroc was free.
Evidence existed—proof that the tower’s power ran deeper than law.
And somewhere in Valinport, the Guildmaster already knew they had been there.
The tower still stood.
But it had been breached.