It was nothing more than a child’s plaything until the sorcerer got hold of it…
And you think you’ve had issues with your father…
I am woman. Hear me roar!
"Hello, (insert village’s name)! It’s great to be here!"
Wha—is that a miniature thunderstorm in that thing?
What if the innkeeper knew what you wanted before you did?
"It is said that among those people they have a loathsome custom- that they keep a spotted dog always waiting beside the gate of the yard where they bury the dead, and that in every funeral they allow this spotted dog to feast upon the dead, so that it grows fat and wise with the knowledge of the dead... Many necromancers do seek out these spotted dogs, and ask of them sciomantic knowledge, or take them as familiars." -Author unknown, "The Ways of the Necromancers"