Spice

  • Deux

    Red rose petals dusted with a trove of ancient spices.

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  • Hell’s Belle

    Sweet, smokey and sensually wicked. A thick, steamy scent, truly sinister in its voluptuous sexuality. The perfume of a demon’s favored consort, or of the devil herself. Oleander with wet, sweet mandarin, lush magnolia, a rush of deep musk and a touch of spice.

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  • Imp Pack: Spice

    —Al-Shairan
    —Chimera
    —Gnome
    —Inferno
    —Old Demons of the First Class
    —Plunder

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  • Lady Una

    “Why, you are crying.”

    She said nothing. Dunstan pulled her toward him, wiping ineffectually at her face with his big hand; and then he leaned into her sobbing face, and, tentatively, uncertain of whether or not he was doing the correct thing given the circumstances, he kissed her, full upon the burning lips.

    There was a moment of hesitation, and then her mouth opened against his, and her tongue slid into his mouth, and he was, under the strange stars, utterly, irrevocably, lost.

    Honey musk, green tea leaf, blackberry leaf, vanilla bean, and fae spices.

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  • Mama-Ji

    Shadow saw the old woman, her dark face pinched with age and disapproval, but behind her he saw something huge, a naked woman with skin as black as a new leather jacket, and lips and tongue the bright red of arterial blood. Around her neck were skulls, and her many hands held knives, and swords, and severed heads.

    Spices, cardamom, nutmeg, and flowers.

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  • Morocco

    The intoxicating perfume of exotic incenses wafting on warm desert breezes. Arabian spices wind through a blend of warm musk, carnation, red sandalwood and cassia.

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  • New Orleans

    Reminiscent of hothouse blooms on a humid night, ripe, but touched with decay. Sweet honeysuckle and jasmine with a hint of lemon and spice.

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  • Oblivion

    Salvation found in darkness beyond darkness, the blessed sleep of nothingness. Dark musk, wood spice, labdanum, patchouli, dark African woods, and saffron.

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  • Paris

    Sensual, decadent, and enigmatic. Lavender, softly underscored by lotus and spice.

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  • Shub-Niggurath

    Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young, the All-Mother and wife of the Not-to-Be-Named-One.

    The lust incense of a corrupted Astarte. A blend of ritual herbs and dark resins, shot through with three gingers and aphrodisiacal spices.

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  • skekNa the Slave Master

    SkekNa the Slave Master remains silent most of the time, except for occasional sneers and hisses. His action is dominated by kicking, whipping, and herding little Podling slaves. Between meals, the Skeksis sought out skekNa the Slave Master for scraps to appease the raging hunger they always felt. SkekNa was purely and openly evil from the beginning, and without him the work of the Castle would never have been done.

    The essence of vile gluttony: an abundance of spices, sweet cakes, thick creams, and opulent liqueurs mixed with the scent of whip leather and rusted padlocks.

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  • The Floating Market

    It was loud, and brash, and insane, and it was, in many ways, quite wonderful. People argued, haggled, shouted, sang. They hawked and touted their wares, and loudly declaimed the superiority of their merchandise. Music was playing—a dozen different kinds of music, being played a dozen different ways on a score of different instruments, most of them improvised, improved, improbable. Richard could smell food. All kinds of food—the smells of curries and spices seemed to predominate, with, beneath them, the smells of grilling meats and mushrooms. Stalls had been set up all throughout the shop, next to or even on, counters that, during the day, had sold perfume, or watches, or amber, or silk scarves.

    A cacophony of curious scents: copaiba balsam, petitgrain, citrus rind, sinicuichi accord, betel nut, wasabi root, coconut palm, and wattleseed layered atop innumerable strange herbs, spices, and woods.

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  • War

    She finished the drink, hefted the sword over one shoulder, and looked around at the puzzled factions, who now encircled her completely. ‘Sorry to run out on you, chaps,’ she said. ‘Would love to stay and get to know you better.’

    The men in the room suddenly realized they didn’t want to know her better. She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, but not up close.

    And she held her sword, and she smiled like a knife.

    Red ginger, black spices, patchouli, honeysuckle, and three blood-soaked red musks.

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