I spent two boring weeks on the road from the Capital to Fallcrest; yet another backwater town in what used to be the greatest empire this world has ever seen. At least the farmers around the Capital, quaint though they may be, knew what a decent city was like. I don't think the yokels out this far had any idea - they called this a city!

But that is what you get when you have to join the Legion. In the long run it beat the alternative for running a man through - even if it was in self defense. Burning his every possession was never going to pass for self defense, I suppose. And so I had to resign myself to getting spit on by some local "commander" and do what he says for a while.

But they all know it won't be long before I'm high enough in rank to do as I please. I wonder what the boys will say then - will I still be a fool?

And so it is that I found myself in the office of the estimable Christoff, commander not only of the Legion garrison, but the "city" watch as well. Much to my surprise, he seemed to get it. I think he might have been in the upper ranks in the Legion back in the Capital from the sounds of it. He knows we're in the sticks. Good, no arguments there.

The other two 'recruits' in the office were strange, to say the least. Jacobius claimed to be some effete petty noble, probably from the boil on the ass of the middle of nowhere. Either way he creeped me out and was immediately placed in the "keep and eye on" category. Smulson, some bizarre looking creature that looks like a man/cat - I think they call them Shifters or some such - was even worse. That put two on the list; what a team.

Christoff explained how our predecessors had turned up dead after being sent to investigate a bunch of caravan attacks on both the Kings Road and the Trade Road. Seems some of the caravan members were battered and beaten as one would expect from bandits. However, some seemed not to be touched or harmed in any way - just dead. Our job was to find out what was going on and to report back when we caught a hint of the cause.

And so, with the sun past noon, we set off East, down the Trade Road. My...friends...are not the most careful of travelers. I suspect that being in this kind of situation is a bit new to them as they appear to be on a Godsday walk courting a comely woman. No sooner had we come upon what seems to be the place our predecessors cashed in then we were attacked by waiting kobolds - the slimy little bastards.

In short time we killed their leader. Two slingers bolted (no pun intended) and left one of their companions behind to pissed himself and give us information. Poor little thing didn't have long to live, though. Before he died, however, he did provide some information about various attacks and where the rest of his tribe lived.

With a bit of luck, we found the tracks of the other two creatures and followed. Evening began to cast longer and longer shadows across our path when we came upon a tower next to a small creek. It was a tumbledown affair - perhaps an abandoned Legion watch post long past it's usefulness. I broke from the woods and moved towards a gap in the eastern wall. About halfway there, a clay pot came hurling out of the structure and barely missed me - exploding on the ground not 5' away. Another followed and also barely missed.

I took that opportunity to make a run for the wall of the tower, hoping there were no higher vantage points I did not detect form the tree line. I screamed to my companions, "Don't bother with all of the troops, just bring up the front guard" in the hopes that our little friends might get scared and run away. Alas, there were more of them than the two we chased here...

Where was I? Oh yes; the kobold slingers...

If only that had been the extent of it. Unfortunately, this was the (minor) hideout of a small band of kobold raiders. Rushing close to the wall, as I had done, made it difficult for those inside to hurl those infernal clay pots at me. As I watched my companions advancing through the field of fire, I figured I'd sneak around and capture the little rat-faced bastards unawares.

Instead, I ran into larger cousins of the slingers, more well armed and ready to attack. So I did. Over the shoulders of my adversaries, as we maneuvered around each other, I could see a stairway leading down - complete with the rising form of reinforcements. "Bring the full troop up for assault!" I screamed, hoping to strike some fear into the sickly hearts of the scavengers. Instead, a horrible looking creature belched forth from below - a larger, uglier, and more...tribal..version of his cousins.

The dance of combat took far longer than I expected; the brutish leader spitting some kind of viscous filth at us and clay pots full of a sort of immobilizing slime landed all around. I forced my opponents here and there, splashing through the little creek that ambled passed the tower or smashing them against the tower wall with my shield. In the end, we killed them all but one. When put to the question, he told how his tribe had begun raiding caravans, but then became concerned when the Legion got involved and strange attacks like those we'd heard of before occurred. Most of tribe fled the area while he and his few fellows broke ranks in an effort to continue the caravan raids.

I made him haul all of the contents up from the dungeon of the tower - after searching the area for any secret or hidden ways. Then, I changed my mind and had him haul them all back down. This way, he would be tired and docile for the return trip to Fallcrest - which he was.

We turned up back in town, after an uneventful walk back, in the late evening and immediately reported our first days' findings to Christoff. He agreed that in the morning we should take a wagon back to recover what was left of the stolen goods. We turned over our prisoner, who now seemed resigned to his fate. Then it was back to the Nentir Inn for a nght of rest and recovery...