This part of the Empire has been at peace for generations, so the Servicemen picked for guard duty appear quite astounded by your precautions. You suspect you'll be the centre of many a campfire tale tonight. Your own crew, more familiar with your habits, give a chuckle at their bemused expressions. Problematically, they do not have weapons. A few have knives, and the others can be easily armed with wood axes, hammers or other tools, and your group, accustomed to this sort of thing, carry cudgels with them on these jobs, but you won't find a bow. The legionaries might have some, but they're not under your command, just sharing your camp before leaving tomorrow. They set up a pair of sentries of their own.

One Serviceman you'd be happy to have is the gnoll, Hathree, except that if you harbour doubts about the kobolds, you certainly have no trust at all for the gnoll. They live north of the Veildant mountains, but what stories come south to Moolyage tell of savage, barbaric people, almost as wild as the elves. If you trust those tales, Hathree might be more dangerous even unarmed than any of your other sentries, and he certainly looks the part. Half again as tall as the tallest human, with long limbs corded thick with muscles and covered with coarse brown hair and the face of a hound with deep-set eyes and a crest of black hair flowing from between his ears and down his back. He wears thick Moolyager fashioned trousers, but neither shirt nor boots. There's a bronze earring bearing a polished amber hanging from his left ear. You don't know much about him, given that he doesn't speak any language you understand. One of the things you don't know about Hathree is exactly what to do with him.

Once you've chosen your sentinels and made sure they understand your instructions, you send them off to their positions. The ones placed across the river are eager to get there, none are enthusiastic at the idea of attempting the rope crossing in the dark. You wonder what the kobolds would have thought of that, none were in that group. Curious to know whether they can see in the dark, as tales of them living under the mountains would suggest, you keep an eye out for kobolds moving about after sundown. Unfortunately, you're unable to confirm this, as the kobolds huddle around near the campfires beneath wool blankets. Apparently, they're not accustomed to the cold, even of Moolyage's early spring.

They code words keep getting more or less regularly shouted from across the river. The sounds of human activity have faded, but the sounds of the raging Oscuros echo in the canyon and drown out the shouts from the other side enough that, while you can hear them shout, you cannot identify the words of The Rain and the Harvest with certainty.