After a well earned night of relaxation, we arose to find Shelalu, the half elven ranger, waiting for us in the common room. She told us that Sheriff Hemlock would be returning soon, and that she was needed to the south, to deal with some more gobbo issues. We told her what we found below the Glassworks, and about Thistletop. Shelalu gave us what information she knew about the gobbo stronghold, and provided directions. We decided to take the fight to the green bastards, and hopefully deal with Tsuto’s demonic girlfriend, Nualia. If we can take her and her monstrous friends out, perhaps we can end the threat to Sandpoint.
We geared up and rode out east of town. A few hours later we reached the pint Shelalu told us to start looking for gobbo tracks. It took the veshango, Patrick, an hour to find the trail. It lead north into the forest. We followed the tracks through the wood until we came to a huge wall of brambles. Searching around, we found a poorly hidden entrance in to the thicket. A small, gobbo-sized tunnel led through the briars, forcing us to crouch as we went along.
Pretty soon we came across a small chamber, with higher ceilings and a large hole in the ground. From the depths of the hole we could hear the crashing of surf. As we left to explore further I was attacked from behind by a fire-pelt mountain lion! This was a tricky bastard, and hard to put down. I’m not proud to admit it, but it got the better of me and sent me sprawling. At least I wasn’t the only one. Chaff ended up with his ass in the mud, as well. No sooner than we had dispatched the beast, and tossed its body into the hole we found, than we were beset again. This time by some malo goblin shaman, boo-hooing about “Tangletooth”, which I surmised to be the fire-pelt we fed to the fishes. This chav had some fire magic, and was able to control the briars around us. Cohl and I were entangled in the thorns, where I spent the rest of the fight. This gobbo definitely earned my ire. Before my wortacha could end the miserable bastard’s life, he melded back into the thicket.
The boyos freed me, and we started to look around for the shaman. Just then we heard the flutter of a bird taking flight from the brambles. Patrick mumbled a quick incantation, then let loose an arrow through the patchy ceiling of the thicket. Sivahna’s veils! His shot took the bird clean through as it sped off toward Thistletop! Whatever message the shaman had intended never made it. We continued to follow the tracks until we came to a small ledge. Here the brambles thinned out above us, allowing us to stand. Before us was a rope and plank bridge, spanning twenty long yards across the rough waters of the sea, eighty feet below. On the other side was Thistletop Island, and the wooden keep of the gobbos.
It was as we gazed out at Thistletop that the shaman attacked again. He came out of nowhere, launching fire at us from behind. This time he wasn’t so slippery. We laid our blades into him. I vaulted behind him to attack his flank and sank both Tickle and Pinch into his vitals. That was enough to send the gobbo to meet his mangy cat. Now all that was left was to figure out how to cross the bridge unnoticed.