With missives written and sent, Lady Morgwais bid you good night and good luck on your mission. The unbinding ritual requires regular maintenance and she spent the night in trance with the prisoner. Most nights are quiet in the Stronghold and this one was no different until the North winds picked up and flew through the trees in the small hours, howling unformed words in some primal language. An unheard but felt response is the deep vibration of the Stronghold walls, an underground echo of the wind. Dreams are haunted by an unseen wild hunt. Who is the prey and who is the hunter?

Erendiel meets you before dawn. “Better to hide your comings if you arrive before the light. Loudwater is friendly to our cause but not all in town are friends. I’ll take you to a secluded camp on the northbank of the Delimbiyr not far from town. Choose your own locomotion from there as you see fit. I’d leave you inside the town but the new High Lord does not take kindly to those who bypass the gates.”

Vera informs Arae of the lone Harper she knew of in the town, a dwarf smith named Warrdh who can be found working the bellows at the provisioner’s shop. Orlando knows that the Knights of the North secretly maintain a full squad of battle-ready soldiers within the town who work at various guard jobs on the warehouse and dock, both to secure coin for themselves and to get closer to possible Zhentarim spies.

It’s an open secret that goods from the Zhentarim caravans are passing through town with tacit approval from the High Lord. All caravans from the east are inspected and stripped of contraband. No merchants from the east walk into town wearing the colors of the Black Network and the city guard keep a close watch on the handoff of goods and packages that are headed further west. The town’s merchants have profited by the increased collection of tariffs and there’s not a Zhentil uniform to be seen…unless one leaves Loudwater and travels east to the ill-fated village of Llork, currently protected by a Zhentilar garrison and who knows what else. There hasn’t been a reliable word from east of Loudwater in quite a few months.

“Everybody ready?” Erendiel says before reaching out to grasp hands. He waits a moment to make sure everyone is connected before he begins singing. His Art is no bard’s bawdy tale but an ancient elven spell lore. He sings of the paths and ways of the hidden world and begs for leave to travel the old roads. As the last note of the final stanza hangs in the air there is a moment of complete stillness where the world seems to freeze. The moment passes and when you breath again you are somewhere else; a small glade surrounded by light trees and heavy foliage. The roaring waters of the running Delimbiyr is near to the south and somewhere beneath you. “Our relief is at the docks on two ships under constant guard. Tell the gate warden that you’re with the Stronghold relief effort and…” Erendiel trails off as he realizes that you are not alone in the hidden camp.

He freezes and points to the sleeping figures sprawled around a burned out campfire. It’s still an hour before first light and the weak moonlight barely illuminates the ground but you can all see at least four humanoid figures wrapped in heavy furs. Traveling packs, weapons, and heavy armor are scattered around the glade. Those with superior vision see two figures standing outside the glade, a dozen trees between you and them. They have their attention focused away from you, looking down at the Delimbiyr and don't appear to have noticed you.