by Adam Latham05 Jan 2018
There is a cottage by a disused well,
And in it lives a strange and haggard crone,
Knock on her door and she will give a tell
Of future moments yet to you unknown.
No crystal balls or scattered runic tiles,
No divinations of the palm or flame,
Her forecasts lie in bodies she defiles,
The practice of the Necromancers game.