The small port town of Ravengate was bustling with trade, The year's third harvest season just starting.(one in spring, summer, and fall.) People traveled in galley-loads, trying to catch a deal on anything under Pelor's light. People of all kinds came here, from nobles, to merchants, to peddlers. To brawlers and bards, scholars and nomads. It was a wonderful site, and it was days like these that made this city's permanent residents so wealthy.
From a rooftop, a young man stood watch over the marketplace, taking cover with the architecture, unseen with his bow, making sure no one would try to pull something in the hustle and bustle of this town. He was not a guard, nor was he a vigilante taking residence in the town. He was merely a passerby with a strange, but strong sense of justice.