KING HAGGARD
His eyes were the same color as the horns of the Red Bull. He was taller than Schmendrick, and though his face was bitterly lined there was nothing fond or foolish in it. It was a pike's face: the jaws long and cold, the cheeks hard, the lean neck alive with power.
Dry cedar, bitter balsam, and ashes.
His eyes were the same color as the horns of the Red Bull. He was taller than Schmendrick, and though his face was bitterly lined there was nothing fond or foolish in it. It was a pike's face: the jaws long and cold, the cheeks hard, the lean neck alive with power.
Dry cedar, bitter balsam, and ashes.
Overall this is a startling dry scent. You could almost leave it as its notes-- it smells like ashes and cedar. The cedar isn't sharp like cedar can be. It's the dried, splintery kind that you can't activate with sand paper. There is a bitter quality to it that speaks of something else, un-nameable, in the mix. I can't imagine this being a person, more like the withered, husk of what a person once could have been. In keeping it in mind that this is King Haggard, it makes me kind of sad. If a scent could be lonely, this would be the one.

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