Before the story of Gray Harbor even begins, it would be wise to touch upon a little Surelain history.

There is, and has always been, one island: one landmass, one bit of solid ground, only one. From the deep dredges of the musty historical page to recent history there has only ever been mention of one body of land in the entire world. To even mention another island would be considered a silly thing, something to be laughed off, (and if someone was in a bad mood, perhaps even blasphemy!)

The island Suraal had In fact undergone some change in its past. Certaintly, before it was Surelain, it was called Aeel, and it was smaller then. Also, in recent history the peninsula Gara plummeted into the oceanic depths. Still, all this involved Suraal and only Suraal.

Now, we find ourselves in Sural, a little over a hundred cycles ago (an aiian cycle being much like our year). Walking down the cobbled Surelain streets we see Captain Hiram Logan, the finest fisherman/whale hunter/all around tough nuts sailor the Aiian people had ever seen. He was the best of the best, and everyone loved him simply to pieces.

One day Logan's ship, the Crimson Ghost, was off whaling: a noble practice. Hiram Logan never was one to give in easily, and the crew had been at sea already for many a week, chasing the great behemoths. When in pursuit of a few spouts on a dark day, a storm arose and began to toss the ship violently. The crew was forced to take cover and ride the tempest out belowdecks.

Upon the new day, the navigators had little knowledge of their current position. They were in fact completely lost, and seemingly beyond any known waters. It was then that Captain Logan strode to the deck and demanded pursuit of the spouts from the previous day. The crows nest reported no such white water seen, but the Captain was certain of their direction and commanded the crew to follow with all speed.

Though perplexed, the crew was good and loyal; they knew their captain to be a wise and brave mariner, so they accepted the new course. For twenty days and nights they chased the phantom whales.

At the end of fifteen days with no sure sign of a whale there were worried mutterings. Captain Logan assured the crew that they were travelling close to home, but from every measurement the skilled navigators had taken, they seemed in fact to be heading farther away. There was talk of reaching the end of the world, there was talk of Captain Logan's rising madness, there was talk of Mutiny.

Logan himself had taken on feverish symptoms. The ship's sawbones reported sullenly that the man's skin was all of fire and dry paper. His eyes were the color of fire opals and his saliva stank of swallowed blood.

On the twentieth day the sky was clouded and a steady rain had begun to fall. The crew, fearing another storm, had decided the time was nigh. They subdued the good Captain and those still loyal were held back at spear-point. They proceeded to take the now ranting Captain and hold him over the side of the ship, asking, begging him to relent his command so that his life might be spared. He shook his head and screamed strange words to the sky. The crew prepared to drop him to the sea.

DARK HORIZON! came the call from the crows nest.

Dark horizon, the call which meant simply what it stated...something obscured the horizon. It sometimes meant a whale or some other ship, but most often and commonly it was used to denote the first sight of land for a returning ship.

The company let Logan back onboard and those still loyal were released as peace settled to the deck. The Crimson Ghost sailed on, and the brave mariners looked past the bow to see what had possessed the lookout to loose that cry.

Indeed there was land ahead, but no land they had ever seen. Great stone cliffs were seen first, followed by thick forestland and a great beach before it. The shore they sailed to was long, and spanned their vision before curving off to the distance. With nary a word spoken, the helmsman swung the ship eastward, following the coastline.

Eventually a suitable landing was found, and the ship sailed into a deep harbor of grey tinted water. Loosing the smaller fishing boats, some sailed to the beach and stepped upon dry land.

The men spent the better part of a season there, which to us would be two or three months. They gathered what strange provisions they could harvest and as much fresh water as their great ship could hold. Before leaving, Captain Logan himself ordered the men to fell one great tree, which they did. They stripped the bark, honing the wood into a tall post, one that could be seen from the waters of the bay, and perhaps even by spyglass from the sea. This only he left marking their landing. By day they set out for home.

This great post stands in the middle of downtown Gray Harbor today.