Atrophinius has run out of drink already, Ascended.
Crucia - curse her mind-controlled treants for interrupting the flow of mead to the city - has truly made this a horrible season if we are to have no alcohol.
Collect several more bowls of the fae wassail for him. Sobriety does not suit a satyr.
Upon completion
Atrophinius is not yet of a mind to frolic again, but these bowls should sate him for today.