The post Crucible festivities

Morgan and the Elders greeted the successful recruits at the vinewood platform with approval of their accomplishments, reminding them that the experiences they encountered at the Crucible was only a fraction of what it meant to be a warrior ranger. There were still many more tests to come, but for now, they dismissed them to prepare for the next part of the affair. Even though they were resolved to putting their future generations through a difficult time to harden them, they were not without mercy. Completing the test was no small fear, akin to completing a coming of age ritual as an age old tradition. While the recruits were busy with the challenge, some of the rangers prepared a grand feast for them in the treetop camp grounds, a place where the huge interconnecting boughs formed large tracks of empty spaces and hollow trunks for camping within. As tradition dictated, all the mouse deer brought up would be slaughtered, butchered and roasted to become the centerpieces of the victory display, which consisted of neatly arrayed mountains of food, skirted by barrels of finely brewed elven wine. With the lavish feast placed around several witchfire bonfires and torches, there was to be much celebration and revelry to be had before dawn, and with most of the guests of honor being young, the party would go far beyond the regular feasting of lesser social occasions. This was a time of great change as the guests crossed the threshold from juvenile to true adulthood, and they would stop at nothing to enjoy every last second of this momentous occasion.

Amidst the multi tiered city of leaven tents and the bouncing shadows of everburning witchfire, the recruits came seeping onto the feasting platform. Some had arrived in groups of enthusiastic youths, bonded companions who quickly make themselves comfortable on the branches and the spread of delicately woven pillows and carpeting all across the floors. After a long day in the Crucible, they were starving for sustenance, enjoyment and attention, laughing away their injuries and fatigue with good company and wine. Those who could play music began to perform with the provided instruments upon a centrally constructed bandstand, consisting of a set of drums, flutes, panpipes and wood elven lyres, showing off their cultural talents by becoming the live musical entertainment for the evening. It was during such a show when the dancers stepped up to accompany them. Wood elven dances were vibrant, dynamic, acrobatic and fully improvised to a central natural theme, with each type deeply connected with their history as a race of magical beings who were wild, harmonious with their surroundings and ultimately free. One of them began displaying the comely belly swaying motions of the dryads. Another competed with the gravity defying leaps, sensual dips and swooping arm gestures of the harpies. Both were adopted from the teaching of the wild folk long ago and they delighted many an onlooker with their jarringly different but elegantly raw moves.

Morgon was not in the midst of the festivity, however, and remained more so in its sidelines, leaning against a bough in a slightly elevated position that gave him a view of the feast in full swing. Although he found great satisfaction in seeing the youngsters enjoy themselves, he felt like his presence as one much older than them would buffer out their fun. Seniority from age was both a boon and a curse. The boundaries tended to shift dramatically once one passes their 3rd century. By then, a ranger would have had enough accomplishments to be considered like a folk hero for the younger ones to aspire to, and that led to too much respect for any form of casual interaction between such kin. Elders Kaya and Yaksha were two of such examples. Nobody of significantly younger age would approach them unless it was part of their duties, and only the truly curious do so with great hesitation. They were nowhere in sight either, for the exact same reason as his.

Of course, none of this mattered for Elder Maran. Morgon could see him seated with a large group of recruits, with a cup of wine in one hand and the hip of a blossoming summer flower in the other. He never ceased to amaze or amuse.

No sooner than an hour has passed and the mood changed as more alcohol was copiously imbibed. Woods elves were naturally wild creatures and it would not be an uncommon sight for both men and women to start stripping away armor and clothing in favor of the attention of potential mates. These couplings were often joined in quick order, and no one would stop them from showing the full extent of their lustful urges in the midst of the revelries. Morgon had shifted to a higher platform so that he could find a seat, and he could see every wandering hand, every bouncing breast, every pouting lip and every thrust of a fully erect manhood into a sopping wet slit from up there. Already there were several congregations of enthusiastic youths ongoing in places around the feasting ground and the branches around him. Even the dancers were dancing to a different form of tune right in front of the stage, having enticed a whole gang of eager fans to accompany them in a multi partner theater of passion. Some had even abandoned the party for some private time elsewhere, which included Maran and his summer beauty. By now, the air was filled with the sounds and scents of uninhibited arousal. For a culture so open and free in its principles, this was not an unusual thing.