"Save the Bait", and other horrors.
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.
A fey spirit masks itself as a bee which investigates all who travel within a specific section of the forest. Any the bee finds worthy are allowed to see the hidden opening into the fey kingdom, just off of the trail. Any deemed unworthy see only the bee, buzzing around around them momentarily before moving on.