I show who you are without a name, A symbol of honor, duty, or claim. Pinned or worn upon your chest, I mark your place among the best. What am I?

It gets placed in a story But has nothing to do with plot. Not a villain nor a hero finding glory. But a necessary element to find a spot.

I'm green and crunchy, usually eaten raw. My little brothers are often pickled.

My middle two often go with forty-seven The four around them come in packs and pints I am a chemist's vessel

From earth's embrace, I take my form, Molded by hands, soft and warm. With water's kiss, I find my way, To become art that shall not sway.