Loas gives a whistle. "Don't worry, Hob. We've thought of that. We know how fond you hobs are of the things." A pair of wood goblins lower themselves from the trees on large spiders, and produce a sling to carry the wolf in. With that done, he glances at the druid. "And don't bother calling me 'lord', or nothing like that. That's for them hill and mountain sort--always calling themselves 'Lord This', and 'Baron That', and 'King Something-or-the-Other'." He spits. "Quite sickening. Just call me 'Loas', and I'm happy."