An Unusual Invitation | Directives of the Tower - Pt. 1

 Mission Cycle -0.32
 Anvillon Tower, Cloud Port 1

 The sky galleon thrummed as it decelerated into the docking bay, shaking off the dust of a thousand miles which settled on the surrounding gantries. As the ship reached a halt, the clamps and loading ramp of the bay began to lock into place, but the captain of this vessel was not one for waiting. Dropping down from the prow, his armoured boots hit the floor with a heavy thud that was lost to the few travellers here amidst the din of machines relentlessly ferrying cargo in and out of the docks.
 The exit path marked by yellow lines leading to the right would head to an elevator shaft down the tower, away from the clamour and mechanical bustle of the port. However, it was the door ahead - a bulwark of criss-crossing dark iron plates - which directed the route of the impatient visitor. As if the reinforced layers of the entryway were not enough, two bulky, robotic sentinels of the same material flanked the door and surveilled the port in synchronised fashion with their singular, unblinking orbs of molten orange. The iron golems swivelled to face him as he approached, and his pace slowed cautiously as he heard the whine of energiser coils powering up.
 "I am Rhobern, captain of the Hook. I have come at the request of your master." he announced to the impassive guardians. They continued to stare down at him, and after an embarrased moment he began rummaging through the pockets of the heavy jacket at the sides of his breastplate.
 "This is why I don't work with robots..." he muttered as he drew the summons from his last pocket. The message had been sent in the form of a machine-readable slate punched with holes, and he held it up to the golem on his right. It bent forwards, close enough that he could feel the furnace heat of its reactor core breathing upon him, and scanned the pattern with a flickering ray from its eye. As it finished its scan, he heard the whine increasing again and slowly reached towards his hip, but then he heard the screeching tones of a connection being dialed and realised it was merely sending a communication. Seconds later, an electronic chime sounded and the panels began sliding apart to reveal a corridor lit by ceiling lights giving off a similar warm, orange glow. Rhobern took one last glance at the guards before proceeding, but they had already turned away to continue their charge and he continued into the passage unhindered.

 The corridor continued on a private route away from the port, leading on a winding journey that seemed to head towards the tower's central core. It construction was uniform and largely devoid of any identifying markers except for more of the same panel-layered doors which directed his path. At one point, he caught sight of a laboratory of some kind through an open doorway, with exotic plants held in individual chambers atop a workbench, but that passage sealed itself as he headed towards it. Finally, he was led into a large square chamber which was mainly taken up by an elevator shaft the width of a dozen people on each side, which was visible through a pair of wire-latticed shutters. With no other route indicated, Rhobern approached and pressed the activator button to draw it open and then walked onto the platform, noting that its reinforced construction was designed for passengers larger and heavier than people. The shutters closed with a metallic clash and, a second later, the platform began to rise, carrying him higher up the tower.

 The prickling feeling of oncoming danger grew as he ascended; in mercenary work there were three types of clients to be wary of: those with great wealth and influence, those with harsh judgement, and those who acted enigmatically - by reputation, the individual who awaited him was a fit for all three. The factory-city of Anvillon was governed by a council of representitives sent from the most powerful researcher-clans in the region, who each held equal say in policymaking and the distribution of funds. Outside of the formal heirarchy however, there was only one with a title that carried infamy beyond their role.
 The lift whirred to a halt and the shutters parted again. Time to get this over with. The Mercenary-Captain stepped forwards and entered the domain of Morana, Forge-Witch of Anvillon.