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  Boney Was a Warrior Perfume Oil

  Boney was a warrior
  Way hey ya
  A warrior a terrier
  John Francois

  Boney fought the Russians
  Way hey ya
  The Russians and the Prussians
  Jean Francois

  Moscow was a-blazing
  Way hey ya
  And Boney was a-raging
  Jean Francois

  Boney went to Elba
  Way hey ya
  Boney he came back again
  Jean Francois

  Boney went to Waterloo
  Way hey ya
  There he got his overthrow
  Jean Francois

  Then they took him off again
  Way hey ya
  Aboard the Billy Ruffian
  Jean Francois

  He went to Saint Helena,
  Way hey ya
  There he was a prisoner,
  Jean Francois

  Boney broke his heart and died
  Way hey ya
  Away in Saint Helena
  Jean Francois

  A brief and succinct biography of Napoleon jumbled with the French shanty, Jean François de Nantes. Relevant to our shared interests: Napoleon was a fragrance connoisseur, and he kept a standing order with his perfumer for a delivery of fifty bottles per month.

  A fresh, light Napoleonic-era cologne with hints of rosemary, almond, oakmoss, and jasmine.

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  Nephilim Perfume Oil

  Dark children conceived from the union of Fallen Angels and the Daughters of Men. According to lore, the angel Shemhazai led a group of his angels to earth to instruct mankind in the ways of piety and righteousness. After a time, the angels became prey to earthly desires and began to lust after the daughters of man, and thus they fell. They instructed their mortal mates in the arts of conjuration, summoning, necromancy and other magickal arts. The fruits of their union are the Nephilim: possessed of superhuman strength, cunning, and infinite capacity, and hunger for, sin. Venerated as heroes by some, vilified by most, the Nephilim eventually annihilated one another in a cataclysmic civil war instigated by the angel Gabriel as punishment for their transgressions.

  Holy frankincense and hyssop in union with earthy fig, defiled by black patchouli and vetiver, with a chaotic infusion of lavender, cardamom, tamarind, rosemary, oakmoss and cypress.

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  Faiza, The Lady of Serpents Perfume Oil

  Upon the next stage, a primitive cage has been erected. It is made of heavy, dark sticks bound with strips of deep brown leather. The stage is as dark as pitch, and from the shadows, you hear soft hissing, spitting, and an ominous chorus of weird rattling sounds. You approach with some trepidation, and peer between the bars. Your attention is seized by writhing forms on the straw bottom of the cage. As your eyes adjust to the gloom, you realize that the floor is seething with serpents, dark and colorful, languid and large, swift and small. You hear a sultry chuckle, and you see bright, unblinking emerald eyes staring at you from the corner of the cage. A woman crawls through the snakes, her scaled body as sinuous and lissome as the creatures that share her home. She reaches towards you languorously with her sharp-clawed hands and sighs.

  A sensual blend of twisting, exotic, serpentine oils: black amber, oakmoss, green sandalwood, bergamot, jasmine sambac, gardenia, orange pulp, black cardamom, vanilla, blackberry, black musk, blackened vanilla husk, white honey, ti leaf, and ginger.

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  Crowley

  Nothing about him looked particularly demonic, at least by classical standards. No horns, no wings. Admittedly he was listening to a Best of Queen tape, but no conclusions should be drawn from this because all tapes left in a car for more than a fortnights metamorphose into Best of Queen albums. No particularly demonic thoughts were going through his head. In fact, he was wondering vaguely who Moey and Chandon were.

  Crowley had dark hair, and good cheekbones, and he was wearing snakeskin shoes, or at least presumably he was wearing shoes, and he could do really weird things with his tongue. And, whenever he forgot himself, he had a tendency to hiss.

  Infernal musk, red patchouli, lilac cologne, mahogany, lemon rind, oakmoss, leather, and vanilla husk.

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