D&D 4E: Footprints in the sand

A dragonborn and a halfling were walking together along a worn and aged road. “Tipa,” said the halfling, “our footprints are mingled with signs of dozens of kobolds. Yet where the kobolds are thickest, I only see one set of footprints. Where were you then?” “Dearest Wenner,” replied the dragonborn. “Those were the times I picked you up and threw you.”
The Adventure Company, having spent a couple weeks resting and training after the adventure in the kobold tower, gathered on the outskirts of Fallcrest. Our destination: the town of Winterhaven, site of some newly-discovered ruins.
Sheeoil looked glum as the rest of us demonstrated the results of our training; he was the only one of us who hadn’t leveled. I was feeling a little glum myself, as I’d had to donate half my earnings to the local temple of Bahamut, but all to the greater glory of good dragonkind, right?
We made good time along the worn, once-cobbled road to Winterhaven. Suddenly the map switched to a small segment of road and we started moving turn by turn. The road ahead seemed empty, but something told us there might be an ambush ahead. Like when we’d seen this map for the first time our very first night of play, and the GM had accidentally showed the ambush up ahead.
Nobody was more surprised to see the kobold minion ahead of us than the kobold minion itself. Wenner killed it so casually that he even forgot to equip a weapon first. More kobolds and still more revealed themselves as the AdvCo machine whirred smoothly into action.
So imposing were we that one poor kobold missed its attack so poorly that it actually killed itself.
Bryn finally got his sleep spell off, incapacitating one kobold and slowing another. He and Wenner took care of the kobolds on the south side of the road while Sheeoil and I took the ones to the north. I gutted a kobold slinger before he could hurl his deadly fire bombs at Sheeoil. We know just how flammable your common elf can be.
When all was said and done, Sheeoil was just two xp from leveling.
The rest of the trip to Winterhaven passed uneventfully.
The inn in Winterhaven was criminally unprepared for a party of adventurers fresh off the trail. They had no hot sand baths prepared. None! A bellow, a roar and a decent tip fixed that. The locals knew little about any kobold lair in the area. A doe eyed elf hunter denied any knowledge of such and refused to help us find same. All anyone wanted to talk about was the mysterious, abandoned keep to the northwest. The one filled with vampires and ghosts.
Yeah. That sounds inviting.
The Lord Warden of Winterhaven — near twin to the Lord Warden of Fallcrest — met us at the inn and told us that he had been informed by his counterpart of our coming. He promised any aid he could spare, as long as that aid wasn’t monetary, personnel or material in nature. But all his good thoughts were definitely at our complete disposal.
Experience gained: 118 xp for each of us. Sheeoil found an additional 2 xp beneath the thin mattress of his bed. The DING! rung throughout Winterhaven. No loot to speak of.
Next week: The Keep, where ghosts and vampires drain our levels back to 1.