Rain and thunder fell on the island as it cringed beneath. The town of Crescent Moon Harbor was a sea port whose harbor spanned the entire inner curve of the island's namesake shape. Matching it was a ghostly white glowing moon hanging in the weeping sky. Ships rocked in the churning waves.

A young man, a surly expression on his youthful face, took refuge in a dreary inn/tavern that smelled of spilt booze, stale smoke, and filth. He sat in a far corner of the room under shadow, out of the dim glow of the lantern light. On his back was a great spear.