OOC:
Taking a bit of liberty with the order of things, but sounds like this was your intent. I may have neglected to adequately describe the watchtower for that plan to have emerged.
Seeing that the watchtower is surrounded on all sides by a low wall, the crew quietly makes their way across the battlements to take cover there. Water still pools on the floor of the open air watchtower, left over from the recent storms. A simple table lies in the corner, one leg broken. Its contents, a scattering of water-logged playing cards and a mouldy wooden bowl, lie in the water.
Cutwell then thumps loudly against a support beam with his iron fist, sending three resounding cracks echoing through the compound. The company watches the open door intently from behind cover. After a tense, silent pause, you see the shadows shift within the doorway.
An odd, fishy head sticks out of the dark doorway, wide eyes gawking, unblinking, into the light. The creature appears to be no larger than a boy, maybe four feet tall, and is almost comical in its awkward appearance. It becomes a little less so when a gangly arm reaches out, clutching a rusty knife, to grasp the door and slowly shut it. Shuddered windows crack open to the left and right of the door, and you can sense something staring outward from each.