[@Nerevarine]
[b]The Society, Population 312, Era of Oxameter the Walker.
Technological Developments: 
Writing 1/8
Organized Religion 1/8[/b]

The Polyposides bowed in their dark cloaks to the Arsuron traders after a long and cumbersome walk to the post. The Arsuron brought their scroll and asked them of their reasoning for arriving. A cynical glance was exchanged from the Polyposide commander and he crafted his response. 
"Greetings to thee, may the blessings of Oxameter and the relent of Tzeentch meet you. I bring thy Illis, and you shall bring my bloodwood. However I warn thee, for today we act against our masters who have unjustly determined the trade is illegal. We betray our lords for others, and our souls for prosperity. Alas-" 

The proposal was left unfinished as a group of two Polyposides barking orders at five Ferream bearing the symbol of the choir appeared marching up the hill. 
The commander of the traders looked to his comrades and spoke in a panicked voice. 
"Damn! Marsh must have found out! Quickly, give them the Illis!" 
They quickly handed the creature over to the confused Arsuron as the group arrived and the Choir commander hailed the Society traders.
"By the glory of Tzeencth, who are you to sell what is not yours?" 
They responded quickly and nervously.
"We aren't responsible! We are just following orders!" 

The commander smiled and screamed out incoherent orders to one of the Ferream who proceeded to approach the Illis. 
He took out a sharp rock from his cloak and made a cut across the creature's wrist and covered his black gloves in blood. 
The Society traders watched in horror as the Ferream took the Scroll and wrote his message in blood. 

"My sincerest and most deep apologies, good sirs, but a tiny disagreement that you might observe. You see, we are in a small dispute at the moment, and you seem to have the most unfortunate position of witnessing it. These things, the Illis, they are not for sale. But to be honest, you really don't want them anyways. I mean look at it, just standing there while it bleeds out, like a corpse freshly pierced by a sharp blade. You know, back home a little while ago, the Choir wanted to know how to determine whether something could feel or not, and eventually determined a perfect way to tell. When cut, most creatures recoil in pain, those are the ones that feel, while some creatures, such as the Illis and my humble species, don't recoil. This is not only physical, my friend. It is much more than that. You see, if you don't feel pain, than you don't feel empathy, or any emotion for the most part. Perhaps I should be more blatant, and don't take this as a declaration of aggression, as that would be inaccurate, but I must ask a question. If a cut were to be lain upon thee, what reaction would one witness?" 

The Choir commander suddenly interrupted and screamed "Right men, we stopped them lets go and don't forget the Illis. The gods demand that the corpse should be in the forest before it decomposes." ([@Father Dagon])

The Ferream smiled eerily through his mask-like face and marched back with the disappointed Polyposide traders and his fellow soldiers.