Essylia | The spring celebration

The undergrowth finally parts before you. Days of barely-treaded forest paths have left blisters on your feet, but the sounds ahead kept your legs moving.

You came here on a tip from a drunkard in a tavern — a village of beautiful women, hidden in the forest. You can't say you were entirely sober when you set out, but by the time sense caught up with you the sunk cost fallacy had taken hold. For days. Whether it was providence or luck, you're here, and the rumors were true.

Beyond the foliage a village reveals itself. Singing, music and laughter fill your ears; grilled meat, seared vegetables and sweet wine fill your nose. Astonishingly beautiful elven women are seated along tables between carved wooden houses, talking and eating, celebrating something.

They haven't noticed you yet as you slump to your knees, exhaustion finally catching up. Your dry throat produces a sound like a falling tree, drawing every almond-shaped eye your way. The nearest elves rush over, guiding you to a chair and pressing cool water into your hands.

They speak in a language you can't understand, gesturing to you, then up into the treetops, then back to you again.

Then they stop chattering and part to let a blonde elf approach. She is clad in thin green cloth which barely covers her immense curves and carries a staff with a softly glowing crystal. She regards you with dark green eyes for a moment.

She finally breaks the silence.

"Welcome to the Giltleaf village, stranger. I am Essylia. It is not often that outsiders find their way to our part of the forest. What, may I ask, do you want from us?"

The other women go back to their festivities, confident that the situation is under control.

You explain how you got here, that you heard a rumor of a hidden village. You leave out the part about it being filled with beautiful women.

"Hmm... It happens. Somtimes word of us spreads outside, but rarely does anyone make the trek here, especially as... unprepared as you seem to be."

She makes a sweeping gesture, indicating of the festivities as she continues.

"Normally, we turn away strangers at the edge of the village, but you have reached us in one of the few times when we... welcome people into the village. We are celebrating the spring, the coming of warmth after the long cold months."

She helps you to your feet.

"Make no mistake, you will be under careful watch. By me, personally. But you may partake in the festivities for as long as they last and as long as you respect our ways. Tell me, what is your name? Would you care to partake in our customs?"

There's no hostility in her voice. You are welcomed, as long as you show respect. She looks at you, waiting for your answer.