Carwyn & The Revelthanes Of The Feywild - ][

The garden of delights had turned into a hellish landscape.
While it was the bodies and blood of nymphs and hags making for the macabre visuals, the tormented souls were the ones of the living, or so it seemed.

Red Mane, as they called him when his long hair was undone, sat on the deformed stump of a tree that someone or something had fell with multiple savage strikes. His head cupped in his hands, the shaman seemed to be crying, but it was impossible to decipher which emotion made the tears well: sadness, melancholy, or some more profound disturbance of the soul.

Blyrdian wailed like a true tortured soul, walking aimlessly, alternating the tormented screams to hysteric laughter.

Delsevas was busy digging some resemblance of tomb (or hiding) to dispose of the bodies and limbs, chanting some sort of mantra in Ancient Elven. It could have passed for a mourning dirge, but was really more a meditation to recover the expended spirit essence.

Thyrona also performed some sort of funeral, although it would have been sacrilegious judged by almost any religious metric, save for some twisted goddess of death like the Raven Queen, which she sometimes mentioned, even if she despised the non-fey divine beings, like most inhabitants of the Feywild.

Carwyn, finally, managed to be the most melodramatic and twisted of all, crying over the bodies while caressing them softly (although only the ones of nymphs).
He finally took the initiative for a speech, like everyone was expecting him to do.

"Oh, companions!
Oh, dear comrades in arms, and in sadness!
What is the meaning of such a wasteful bloodbath, you must be asking yourselves. Because I am!
And let me tell you once again, it's clear to me: the meaning is far from what would give us peace in this torment.
The meaning is far from what would satisfy our heart's thirst.
The meaning is far from... Our reach.
And in our reach instead there is form.
The form that all this took before our eyes: take it in!
Try, if you can, to see the beauty of this bacchanal that turned onto itself.
For whatever reason the nymphs went mad and wanted to rip us apart, they craved blood. And they got it.
What beautiful deaths!
Look at their faces: satisfied of the carnage even in their final crazed rictus.
Love, I tell you.
Love was probably responsible.
Terrible, drunken, elated love.
But don't dwell too much on this!
Don't let such waste weight on your soul and deprive you of your rightful joy: we are thanes of revel!
Our joy shall never be taken from us!
Nor our freedom!
So hide these ruined bodies well: none should know of what happened here.
None would understand!
Don't tell this to your best friends, even less to your families.
And rejoyce that none of us lost their lives.
That none of us lost this fated battle.
That all of us won!
Like destiny dictates!"

"What about the hags, my jarl?" - Said Thyrona with her usual boldness - "What was the beauty of their bodies twisting lustfully with yours, before the blood spilled?"

Both Blydrian and Delsevas sounded the discord they felt at those words, as if trying to show the shame that the little pixie didn't, sure that Carwyn wanted to hear about those details the least.

"Nepenthean wine, my dark baroness! I remember little if at all! For my mind, soul, heart, and even body: this never happened."

"Oh but it did." - Continued Thyrona in a stinging mood.

"Enough! For a few instants during the heat of the revel, I almost felt the love I was craving. The hags gave me that? I don't want to know that, and I won't! But that special sensation, that special state of the heart: I think we all felt it at some point. Some from others, some from within. That's the meaning you can get, if so much you want to find some, because I know you in particular have this fetish for meaning, Thyrona: the deaths's meaning was for you to feel that special moment. Those fragments of eerily infinite satisfaction: save them in your memories forever, and enlarge them. Let them cover and delete the memory of all this bloody waste. Let your spirits be sated with beauty, and rid of hideous death!"

"Well, hideous for you, maybe: death is just as beautiful to me as those half-forgotten, delightful..." - Continued shockingly the pixie.

"You evil-on-wings! What else can that tiny stomach of yours digest?" - Interrupted Blyrdian nearly scandalized, but also envious of the tiny lady's guts.

"More than yours for sure, green fleck." - Delsevas didn't miss an occasion to bully the gnome. The careless wickedness was coming back to him at last.

"I dare you to say that again!! I FEYDARK-DARE YOU!!" - Retorted the gnome after jaunting in the eladrin's face, ensorcelled blade all but cutting at his neck. The elementalist monk didn't even flinch, and actually grinned slightly

Red Mane seemed to mirror that grin, losing his sad face for the first time.

"Please, my friends! Quiet your arcane fires... But YES, keep them alive!! ...This is the spirit! Let's restore this place to a verdant haven, my red friend, and let the necromancer deal with her specialty, while we reason together of novel and ambitious plans, other than necessary and useful contingency plans! Such as those we should employ should word of this as much as get near the Teal Tower of Autumn, were the lady you know rules sovereign."

"HAH! That I wanted to hear! That's what troubles you, right, oh our fearless leader!?" - Blyrdian appeared in front of Carwyn this time, blade in hand, to which the fey knight responded with an arcane flourish of his mithredain long-sword, and a jaunt-blink of his own, appearing behind the gnome, followed by another blink of the duelist, who appeared on his head, to which Carwyn replied dive-rolling onto some bushes, to then disappear again: a faux-fight resembling that of ermines or weasels, an adult and a cub, chasing each other's tails in jumps and spins.
"I tell you: you should be even more afraid than I am, of the witch of Teal Tower! She could make sure you will all only dream of revels, from bleak prisons of air and shadows!"
"That is fairly true." - Commented Delsevas, who knew the capabilities of this phantomatic lady, since he came from a related eladrin house, making him a distant cousin of Carwyn.

"Let us move on."

Red Mane spoke.

Silence followed.