Scents of ages past and scents of the zeitgeist. A guild of perfumers.
They consumed Great G’bod. They partook of the Giant Slug’s flesh.
"When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,"
-Shakespeares 29th Sonnet.
A peculiar guild of specialists. "Flick your ticks, slice your lice, squeeze your fleas."
A Renaissance dawns. A School of Art emerges.
Like a Binding Oath Ring but it stops anyone under witness protection from revealing his or her true identity to anyone. I might make this into a submission one day.