"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.
With regard to the plot "Sleeping Mines of Elathon":
You manage to get the water wheel in the mine working which operates a pump to clear the flooded lower levels. As you explore the dank tunnels of the lower galleries, you can hear the creaking of the wheel above. You enter a low-ceilinged passage and are crawling on your backs, when the creaking stops. The water starts seeping wetly around the back of your head...