A six-year-old black rat crouched in the ruins of Malkariss’s cave. He was Lupin- son of Cluny the Scourge and a gray she-rat named Lilith. (Note: Lupin is the name of a poisonous plant.) Lupin jumped as his mother’s heavily-accented voice carried from the entrance. “Lupin?! Lupin, what you doin’ here?” He sighed and went to her. “Lupin!” She thundered. “How many times do you want to end up like your eejit father, smashed under a metal bell, may he rest in peace?” “N-no.” “Good.” Lilith smirked, and pressed three gold coins into Lupin’s paw. “Go.” She whispered. “Go on down to Clott’s tavern and get your mommy some rum.” “B-but,” Lupin stammered. “Aren’t you still havin’ a---” “I KNOW I’M STILL HAVIN’ A HANGOVER!” Lilith roared. “Just be a good boy and get me what I want.” “All right.” Fri
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