It is early morning. You awaken early, the exitement of finding the object of your quest robbing you of sleep. You pack up your camp and head out. According to the map the head of the guild gave you, the tower should be just over the next hill. As you top the hill, you catch your breath, and your heart almost stands still. A tower looms out of the fog not a mile away. Here, it is said, lives a mage, a necromancer, who has lived longer than the history books record. Here one can find an answer to any question, or one can find death. For it is said that the necromancer is unpredictable. One day, he will invite you in, feed you, and give you a place to sleep for the night, only to destroy you the next morning. You shake the thoughts from your head, and look at the tower once more. It rises several stories into the air, tapering off to a point. It is surrounded by a moat. From this distance you cannot be sure it is water in the moat. You cross the fertile grasslands that surround the tower. There is a drawbridge down across the moat. As you get closer you can peer down intto the moat. It drops about fifty feet before coming into contact with a putrid smelling liquid, black, with the consistancy of syrup. Did something just move in that? Impossible, must have been your imagination. You steel you resolve and stride tword the bridge spanning the chasm. The door is shut tight, solid, oak aproximately a foot thick. What do you do?