The three of you step outside the land of the elves, almost instantly feeling uneasy as you leave the realm of friends; entering instead the unclaimed land that you have witnessed, by words and sight, to belong to the trolls and other such brutes. What little comfort there is can be taken in the fact that somewhere ahead of you lies the Pirate Isles, home of the crazy gnomes and dwarves who sail the waters, as if unafraid of the lords of the deep.<br/><br/>You walk along the narrow strip of sand, eyes on the rocky ledge to your left, staying quiet so as to hear the approach of any warty predators. An hour after leaving the trees the land shifts, hiding the forest behind a fold of protruding rock. Half an hour later Kasumi comes one of the few familiar spaces on the island: a small alcove, in front of which is scattered the broken shards of a wooden barrel, the material heavily stained which the scent of salted pork.<br/><br/>You continue onwards, the tide already half in and slowly rising. By late afternoon the lighter brown rocks of the Pirate Isle come into view, but the passage to them have been swallowed up by the sea. Getting to them will require a good bit of wading, and possibly even some swimming. To your left the line of rock disappears, and the rough hide of the ground rises to take its place. In front of them the beach widens, becoming dotted with thick trunks. Further west lies the territories of the goblins.