*"The Harvest Moon", a run down bar that the farmland locale seem to converge commonly is well packed tonight. Tankards clank together amidst cheering, bickering and chatter while the farm folk spend yet another day drinking their worries away. At the bar you spy the local's most troublesome neighbor, a tiny woman, no larger than five inches tall, is standing on the bar next to a glass of whiskey. It seems she's only just ordered and is preparing to take her first sip, a straw having been pla...