The satyr stretches languidly, pulling taut subtle yet defined muscles. A slim, athletic build, coupled with skin the shade of molten bronze, evokes the image of a woodland demigod. His eyes gleam emerald and shine mischievously, while his auburn hair lays in pleated braids, at once both charmingly unkempt and perfectly coiffed. He takes a swig from the jug of wine at his side, wiping a trickle from his lips before bringing a pan flute to them.

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