Mythforge

She walked in like a lost schoolgirl, tears running down her face like the Niagara. I could tell this case was going to be a doozy. "Please sir, are you the one they call… Hook?" I leaned back in my all-American leather armchair, staring at the ceiling as my stogie provided the only light other than the streetlamps. I have to admit, I like my office dark. No distractions, just the case. That's the way I liked it. "…That is what they call me," I replied, still staring at the shadowed ceiling. I still remember the day I got my hook, just like it was yesterday. They called him Pan, Peter Pan. This guy was as screwed

I was cut off. I didn't know what to do. I would have given anything to find my way back to them, but now I had no choice: I had to find the feather. I'd been told that this feather, the multicolored feather of an unknown bird, was a wellspring of untold energy,  if  you could find a shaman. The shaman were the only men in existence who could tap the untold power of the feather. My problem was, I was in a cave. All around, gray walls of stone reminded me of my isolation, that I was powerless to escape on my own. And where would I possibly find a shaman here, in these depths? But I had to try. I don't know how much time passed after that. Ti