Galen sat on his bench, HIS spot, and leaned back, head facing the stars. He loved this spot, this was the best one to people watch, best one to avoid the rain, best one to watch the squirrels play to and pro on the trees... and best place to avoid squirrel poop.
Just for a moment, his legs pushed under the bench as he patted his money pounch and was comforted by it's largeness. Sighing contentedly, he pulled his legs out... or tried to.
His legs were stuck. Under the bench. Something sticky had touched his foot, and was not letting go. Bending down, he reached into the darkness.. and pulled out a rather large spiderweb sack.
Now, normal people would have sqirmed, perhaps screamed at the sticky and soft sight. Not Galen. He pulled in open, and found a cloak, an amulet, a belt, and a small sack. Best of all, at least to him, he found a small note, written in his own hand.
He read it quickly, then stuffed the items into his bag, and crushed the paper, stomping it and the webs into the ground. A scowl had appeared on his face, and he muttered (growled, really) only one name as he walked away...
"Lartnoch Grimmskulll..."
A blast from the past.
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