Chestnut turned his head to look at the dwarves. "Ah, dwarves, you don't see too many around here now. Well, maybe a few here and there in La'marri though."
Noticing their supply of ale, he grinned toothily. "How nice of them to bring refreshments! I have a hankering for some ale myself." And with that he went over to greet the stocky barrel-chested beard men. "Howdy doody-oh, good dwarves. Come to a fine party here you have. The name's Chestnut." And he offered a blue-tufted hoof for whoever their leader was to shake.
Gwilwilethneth and company carried on their love-making, this time with the satyr on top and the wood elf where the other male had been. Half an hour later, the satyr flipped Gwil over onto her stomach and entered her from behind as she giggled in response.
The wood elf, ever determined to please the forest maiden, griped a reply to the satyr and grudgingly the other complied, getting up so the wood elf could get underneath Gwilwilethneth, the nymph holding his firm piece in hand before she inserted it into her opening. The satyr then resumed his former position, so Gwil was sandwiched between the two males as their love-fest continued on and on...
And the nymph of the forest could do this allll night. The three of them had tons of energy to blow off after all. Needless to say this particular tent was occupied in full, and would be for some time. All around them in other tents, other nymphs were getting it on with many a woodland creature, be they elf, half-elf, satyr, fae or faun.
The dancing, feasting, drinking, music and mingling never ceased or slowed, but continued on in a frenzied fashion that could rival any wild party of humans, perhaps even more so. The newcomers to the party would most definitely find something to enjoy themselves with, no doubt. It was starting to near nightfall, yet the celebration showed no signs of stopping, if only further increasing in volume and merry-making activities. And Fae-kind has less need of sleep than what humans did, so they could party on for much much longer. A fever-pitch of a festival it was.
((OOC: Feel free to write the response of the dwarf leader. And I think Chestnut's gonna get drunk soon. ;D ))