Oak

  • A view from the window

    A View From the Window Perfume Oil

    Nelson Shanks
    Crimson and ash-green velvet, leatherbound books, a scattering of ink-dribbled papers, beeswax, dried flowers, faded pipe smoke, mahogany, and oak suffused with warm beams of golden amber and dusted with pale sandalwood.

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  • CARVED WOODEN LIVERY STABLE

    Carved Wooden Livery Stable Perfume Oil

    Solid oak planks framing a shelter for saddle leather, dusty straw, alfalfa pellets, apple cores, and a flick of manure.

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  • Kill-Devil Perfume Oil

    “Rum punch is not improperly called Kill-Devil; for thousands lose their lives by its means. When newcomers use it to the least excess, they expose themselves to imminent peril, for it heats the blood and brings on fevers, which in a very few hours send them to their graves.”

    Sugar cane, molasses, oak wood, and honey.

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  • Lawful Perfume Oil

    Rigid oak, blue chamomile, rhubarb, and fig leaf.

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  • This image is decorative

    Nerves and Sinew, Wood and Clay Hair Gloss

    Taut red strings of daemonorops draco and licorice root tugging on carved oak streaked with vetiver and clove with bright nerve-sparks of frankincense and elemi.

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  • Roll the Old Chariot Perfume Oil

    Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
    Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
    Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
    An’ we’ll all hang on behind!

    So we’ll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
    An’ we’ll roll the golden chariot along!
    So we’ll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
    An’ we’ll all hang on behind!

    It is said that after Horatio Nelson’s death at the Battle of Trafalgar, his body was preserved in a cask of rum (or in some tales, brandy) in order to preserve it for transport back to England. When the cask arrived, though, it was empty of spirits, and a hole in the cask was found where the sailors had been sucking the booze out with a straw.

    Oak planks, iron, brandy, and spiced rum.

    The remains of Vice-Admiral Nelson have been omitted from this fragrance.

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  • The Antikythera Mechanism

    Bronze gears spin inside a polished wooden case, and an entire universe dances within.

    Teakwood, oak, black vanilla, and tobacco.

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  • The Antikythera Mechanism Beard Oil

    Bronze gears spin inside a polished wooden case, and an entire universe dances within.

    Teakwood, oak, black vanilla, and tobacco.

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  • THE AUTUMN FOLK

    The Autumn Folk Perfume Oil

    The chord vibrated in the air between them — a connection point.

    Hay-dusted oak, honey mead, pumpkin rind, vetiver root, corn husk, and maple leaves.

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  • This image is decorative

    The Blood Garden Perfume Oil

    Vast open tents have been erected further down the lane. Ornately carved wooden poles support swaths of drooping black lace and blood-crusted burgundy velvet. Grapevines and ivy creep over the beams in the tent and curl like cocoons around bodies that hang upside-down in the caliginous gloom of the tents. Within the shadows, pale figures recline on divans covered in moldering, frayed fabric. As you pass, a feral, white-haired man hoists a tall-stemmed crystal glass of deep red liquid in a toast to you.

    Blood accord, bitter clove, English ivy, Tempranillo grape, red currant, oak, leather, blackberry leaf, and ginger lily.

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  • The Ninth Cage Perfume Oil

    The unicorn hardly heard him. She turned and turned in her prison, her body shrinking from the touch of the iron bars all around her. No creature of man’s night loves cold iron, and while the unicorn could endure its presence, the murderous smell of it seemed to turn her bones to sand and her blood to rain. The bars of her cage must have had some sort of spell on them, for they never stopped whispering evilly to one another in clawed, pattering voices.

     

    A claustrophobic blend of cold iron and oak.

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  • WITCH-CURSED CASTLE

    Witch-Cursed Castle Perfume Oil

    You whom Haggard holds in thrall,
    Share his feast and share his fall.
    You shall see your fortune flower
    Till the torrent takes the tower.
    Yet none but one of Hagsgate town
    May bring the castle swirling down.

    Beyond the town, darker than dark, King Haggard’s castle teetered like a lunatic on stilts, and beyond the castle the sea slid. Drinn stopped him as he raised his glass. “Not that toast, my friend. Will you drink to a woe fifty years old? It is that long since our sorrow fell, when King Haggard built his castle by the sea.”

    “When the witch built it, I think.” Schmendrick wagged a finger at him. “Credit where it’s due, after all.”

    “Ah, you know that story,” Drinn said. “Then you must also know that Haggard refused to pay the witch when her task was completed.”

    The magician nodded. “Aye,” and she cursed him for his greed – cursed the castle, rather. “But what had that to do with Hagsgate? The town had done the witch no wrong.”

    “No,” Drinn replied. “But neither had it done her any good. She could not unmake the castle – or would not, for she fancied herself an artistic sort and boasted that her work was years ahead of its time. Anyway, she came to the elders of Hagsgate and demanded that they force Haggard to pay what was due her. ‘Look at me and see yourselves,’ she rasped. ‘That’s the true test of a town, or of a king. A lord who cheats an ugly old witch will cheat his own folk by and by. Stop him while you can, before you grow used to him.’” Drinn sipped his wine and thoughtfully filled Schmendrick’s glass once more.

    “Haggard paid her no money,” he went on, “and Hagsgate, alas, paid her no heed. She was treated politely and referred to the proper authorities, whereupon she flew into a fury and screamed that in our eagerness to make no enemies at all, we had now made two.” He paused, covering his eyes with lids so thin that Molly was sure he could see through them, like a bird. With his eyes closed, he said, “It was then that she cursed Haggard’s castle, and cursed our town as well. Thus his greed brought ruin upon us all.”

    In the sighing silence, Molly Grue’s voice came down like a hammer on a horseshoe, as though she were again berating poor Captain Cully. “Haggard’s less at fault than you yourselves,” she mocked the folk of Hagsgate, “for he was only one thief, and you were many. You earned your trouble by your own avarice, not your king’s.”

    Drinn opened his eyes and gave her an angry look. “We earned nothing,” he protested. “It was our parents and grandparents whom the witch asked for help, and I’ll grant you that they were as much to blame as Haggard, in their way. We would have handled the matter quite differently.” And every middle-aged face in the room scowled at every older face.

    One of the old men spoke up in a voice that wheezed and miaowed. “You would have done just as we did. There were crops to harvest and stock to tend, as there still are. There was Haggard to live with, as there still is. We know very well how you would have behaved. You are our children.

    Weed-strewn oak, opoponax, wet stone, creaking redwood, and desolate olibanum.

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