While the bodies of the two fallen gods allow the flower goblins of the Deepdell Forest to practice their own brand of alchemical horticulture, there are those who bend this source of magic to other means. Some few become a form of pnigomancy — or that is what humans would call it, if they learned of its existence. As it stands however, the twisted and thorny mutant creatures these goblins become are still thought to be a single, terrible beast that roams the forest. The Brambelf they call it, or sometimes the Goblinthorn Queen, after the ancient fairy tale of the same name. How they would tremble in terror if they but knew the truth of this matter! How they would shiver in fear! There is not only one Brambelf, there are several.
For the art that makes them such a loathsome adversary is one they learned from Grumblesticks. Indeed, the weird ichors of Arketos and Gherosin are only enough to change their forms, though their new bodies look fearsome enough. They grow barbed horns, many eyes that seem to pierce any obstacle, and their arms do split apart and multiply like the branches of trees. Their skin hardens, sprouting several types of thorns. And yet, merely to become like the prickly stem of some coveted rose is not enough for these wizards. Why must they fight their foes with but a few spiny limbs? They would have allies in their struggles, of any similarly thorny type.
And so they have learned to pluck not only the flowers of evil from the realm of nightmares, but more importantly their choking, barbed stems. They call the tangles of thorny vines to their persons, be it day or night, and with such minions they murder even those who might defeat them in single combat. After all, why should they fight fairly? For the axes of men and dwarves have never kept the promises that spring from their mouths, and so these goblins have ceased to listen.