Stone has a minion!

Grimm the Begbones

Description

The weak glint of cold moonlight did little to dispel the shadows in Thieves' Alley. On the worn, cracked pavements, tramps and beggars skulked in the shadows; homeless, smelly men dressed in rags curled up on pieces of cardboard. In the bars and taverns, rowdy men got into scuffles and smashed beer bottles against the dank walls; prostitutes teased and sourced for clients in plain sight. This was the very pit of the pretty town of Beltaine, where even the police did not dare to tread.

In the corner of the Copper Boot inn, fronting Thieves' Alley, sat the best necromancer in the world.

He was unshaven and unkempt. Matted brown hair cascaded past his shoulders, and a plain gray shirt which had seen much wear hung loosely on his broad frame. From time to time, he took a swig from the bottle in front of him, not even bothering to wipe his mouth when trickles of alcohol ran down his chin. He appeared to ignore his surroundings completely - although large black rats scurried along the floor of the Copper Boot, at times even running over his feet, he did not even bother to nudge them away. The charmed skeleton-puppy sitting at his ankles occasionally rose to snap at the rats if they came too close to itself, but on the whole, it appeared to be as apathetic as its master.

The old-timers who frequented the Copper Boot had long since given up trying to engage the man in conversation. Although he had been visiting the inn daily for the past few months, he resolutely refused to say a word to the others except to give them his name, seemingly content to drink alone. Any attempt at friendliness was met with a hard stare, and the one memorable time some foolhardy man had tried to engage him in a fight, he had been promptly set upon by the charmed skeleton-puppy, which had bitten him in ten different places, torn off his pants and chased the poor fool out of the Copper Boot, accompanied by howls of laughter. After that, by unspoken agreement, everyone had left the mysterious man alone. Every night, Stone came to his habitual corner table with the skeleton-puppy at his heels, ignored everybody, drank his customary three bottles of beer and left when the first few wisps of cloud on the horizon were painted pink by the touch of dawn. Silent and apathetic, he had become as much a part of the surroundings as the wallpaper.