I traced his travel by his credit card, back to a broad flat empty wasteland of a desert. An ancient necromancer had a whole army of animated skeletons, all knitting some huge pattern. He was a skeleton himself, too.
"So, um, shouldn't you be sending this army of skeletons out to destroy civilization or something?" I asked.
He arched an eyebrow-bone querulously as he replied, "Really? You're complaining?"
"No, I suppose not."
"Look, the fact is that raising an army of the undead to crush civilization is a losing proposition these days. You just invite retribution, heroes, quests, and so on. Villainy is out; what's cool these days is handmade craft goods."
"So, what are you and your undead legions making, then?"
"A city cozy. We're going to wrap Seattle up in it to help keep it warm this coming autumn."
"That seems very nice of you," I said.
He began cackling with undying eldritch malice, and then flew away on an ill-omened wind. I never got a chance to ask him about the whole credit card issue.