The foul, nauseating stench of morning-after breath permeates the glade. Fey of all sizes and shapes litter th

The foul, nauseating stench of morning-after breath permeates the glade. Fey of all sizes and shapes litter the ground, sleeping on the grass side by side, some of them scarcely clothed. A drowsy satyr squints in pain and shifts his heavy gaze to you.