Tired eyes watched the fire spit and crackle. Her arm hurt, no matter how hard she tried to endure the pain. It felt like a hundred tiny knives stabbing at her, breaking away at flesh. It reminded her of picking inside the mines. Picking for ore. Black, gold, brown, it didn't matter. Eating that night mattered. Now she was the mine, and something tried digging its way out of her elbow.

Shayne sat up, then rebandaged her arm. The cloth smelled like wet death. A fresh kill. It stuck to her skin, from all the blood. With a few quick, hard tugs the cloths came undone. she was running out of material to wrap her arm in. Her leathers were too thick, or she would be clad if it meant a bandage.

She could make a sling though.

As she sat with her back against the stone wall, Shayne extended her good arm for one of her daggers. She barely reached it, her fingers merely pinching at the blades point. She dragged it a little closer than grasped at the hilt. She started to slice at the material covering her stomach. She would never let anyone close enough to jab her there anyways. With her better arm she tore at the leathers, folded them together, and burned the ends so they stuck together. Shayne surveyed the area, and with the help of her small fire, could see moss, and some assortments of fungus.

Shayne used her good arm, and grabbed a big chunk of moss. The wetter the better, she was always told. With a quick snap, she lodged her elbow back in place.

Excruciating pain winced up her arm, but it was nothing she could handle. She wrapped the moss against the inside of the sling. Shayne then grabbed a yellow and brown spotted mushroom. She ripped it open slightly, and noticed the greenish blue bruising. She put the mushroom in her mouth, then swallowed. The taste was a bit unbearable, as Shayne slightly gagged. The flavor was no real botheration though. The after effects, would surely help with the pain.

Within a few minutes she felt euphoric, and pain free. She grabbed a stick and wrapped it with much drier moss, and made herself a torch. She lit the torch with her fire, then stomped the fire out. She could see a small opening up ahead, only big enough for her slender body to squeeze in. Shayne tapped at her elbow. The cast, and the mushroom made her feel no pain. She crawled through the opening not knowing where it led to, but also knew it was the only way. The close walls made a rather tight fit, but Shayne could easily wiggle herself free.

After what seemed like five minutes, Shayne found herself free and in medium sized chamber. A tiny stream moved it's way Northwards. The mushrooms Shayne ate earlier, were starting to have an effect. The walls seemed like they were moving farther away from her. Her senses seemed heightened, as the water cascading in front of her sang a song as it danced its way up the stream. She knew it was the poison affecting her, and just went with it. Shayne followed the stream and eventually found her way to a stair like wall reaching up. With a broken arm she would have preferred to go down, but she would take what she could get right now. Shayne was about to reach the top of the stairs, when she saw a dim candle light flicker up ahead.

Shayne continued up the last step, and kept as close to the wall as she could keeping all her senses open. The poisons after effects helped, making the senses sharper than usual.

The candles flame danced, the wax dripping down the small table it rested on. Burned down to the nub, the candle must have been lit quite some time ago.

Papers skewed about across the floor, as bloody handprints were strewn across the wall. Shayne grabbed some of the papers. They were made of a thick parchment, which meant these papers were once owned by someone noble, or rich in Dubloons. It appeared to be a hand written orders. The chirography, was loopy, yet neat. She glanced the notes over

I have been working hard, way to hard to find the location of this staff. It must be mine, and it will be mine. Anyone who finds it will be rewarded greatly.

Shayne grabbed another note.

I have a new source, the beloved staff was seen in an elven tribe, the moonsomethings or whatever. I will shortly be dispatching a crew to their camp later tonight. If you were not handpicked for this crew, don't worry. You can still reach me for other plans. You know I can pay you well. You help me, I help you.

Since the two notes she fished out seemed connected, she went for the next one in the pile.

I am angered beyond words. Someone must have opened their mouth. An elfin couple took the staff and fled. Now I must wait, and I am growing impatient. Anyone with information find me immediately. I will pay you well, as you know I can.

Her curiosity took over, and Shayne couldn't refrain herself from reading more.

After some hard lined investigation the Elves which are holding the staff have been found. My men have questioned them and threatened them, but they are not saying anything. Precautions may have to be made. If they don't come clean soon, I will have their heads , and keep them as trophies. For the time being they have been locked in my cellar. There, they will be starved and whipped until they talk. Anyone who wishes to torment them can find the elves in the Grifton prison. Tell warden Baul that I sent you.

Another page waited for her.

Well the elves were murdered, quite brutally I may add. They did not want to speak, and so I had to put an end to their pitiful little lives. We are now back to our search. I just hope the other elves now realize I am not one to be messed with, and the staff will someday be mine. I have sent the bodies back to their tribe. I hope these moon-whatever's, get the message. Please be prepared for another letter soon.

Shayne stopped reading, and all of a sudden felt very angered. She also felt very sad for this Moonkara tribe. They didn't deserve to lose two of their own.

Shayne herself grew up with elves. She knew that this death most likely caused much anguish. A tribe loved and cared for their own, as if all one big family. If anything this elven couple was keeping this staff away for a good reason.

They died for the safety of their own people, and who knows, possibly the world itself. Who ever wrote these monologues seemed to want this staff, for very detrimental reasons. Shayne wished to herself she could be of help. She was very sentimental to the elven tribes throughout the land. What if this were the tribe that took her and her parents in. She knew it wasn't, but if it was, there would be many a throat sliced. That didn't matter though, the elves were mostly a peaceful bunch. They accepted anyone with open arms, never deserving the virtues of torture and death.

Shayne clenched a fist with her good arm, and slammed the stone cavern wall. Her knuckles became bloodied, and started to slightly swell. She envisioned this tormenter, and what she would do to there face. She gave the wall one more wallop with her fist. The claret from her ruptured vise colored the wall with red, and glossy droplets. It was this moment that Shayne was very certain what adventure was coming next. She wasn't sure how, but she was going to help this tribe, as her own tribesmen helped her once before. Her heart was beating maniacally, and with feelings of requital compunction.