I sit down, staring into space. 'Mortha . . .' I mutter.

I feel shaken, and after seeing a mirror, I look shaken. I can't seem to get rid of this feeling. What is it? Care? Maybe. Never had I truly cared for a mortal. Only the Immortals, without them Nirn would surely fall. But that wasn't the care I felt. It was a feeling I no longer know. Ah! That's it. Fatherhood.

(if you didn't know the Spanish Inquisition actually did that form of torture)

(Zork, I found an image that is similar to what I thought the Spectral Demon looks likes, here. Copyright DOTA)

(His name should be Dovah Hokzii, "Meaning Dragon Demon")

Falin sat perched in a high vantage point within the spire, watching for any signs of danger. Spectral wolves summoned with the help of Y'ffre patrolled below. She held some of the dropped dragon scales in her hands. These are much stronger than leather . . . could I do something to make them more pliable? She shifted. I need to focus. Sauriil and Makor need to rest and recover. Until then, just keep trouble away.

I teleport to Falin, 'Falin . . . you are an excellent tracker, yes? I . . . need your help.'

Makor was laying on the bed. Suddenly Makor started to cough out blood, blood was dipping from his body. the amount of scars and wounds he had were, too much, especially for his age. 

(the scar on his face was huge, causing his face to look like this)

Falin looked at him. "Of course. But only if you promise to recover before trying anything." She blinked, hearing Makor's coughing and leaped down from her perch. She filled a cup with something that had been simmering over a small fire. "Drink this, Makor. I know it tastes horrid, but it'll help with the pain."

'I need you to find ny daughter.' I pass Falin a small bow and smile. 'She had a love for archery. When she was a little child. When she "died" she was only 9. I saw him take her head. But now she is so much older. Does she remember me? Ah, why do I plague you with my inner troubles. Can you use this to track her. You are of the Wild Hunt, the beast is inside. You can use it to feel the aura of what you hunt.'

Falin was quiet for a moment, studying the little Elven bow. "Mmm the scent is faint, but it's still there after so long." She looked around. "That . . . man who was here earlier had the same scent on him."

I nod, 'He took her. And . . . did things I will never speak of. How can my own brother do this to my daughter?'

I walk to Makor and heal his wounds.

Makor takes a small sip and tastes it, and spits it out,"This tastes of Dragons' piss!". He holds his breathe in and downs it. And shakes his head in disgust "Never drinking that again." Makor tried getting up. Feeling a lot better, but not able to walk without feeling pain.

"Uhh." He grunts, and tries to walk. "We have no time for rest." he says to Falin and Sauriil. He grunts again and holds onto a near-by walking stick." 

"My armor, where is it?"

Falin gripped Sauriil's shoulder. "I'm not sure . . . but I will find her." She looked at Makor. "You are staying in bed for awhile."

{I don't like the looik of the DOTA demon.}

By now, I would do almost anyhting for a body right now. I feel as though I just have to help them, but how?

"I can't rest, people are being killed, by the bastard Dovahthur, slaughter him then feed him to wolves that devour his carcass, and bathe in his blood." Makor said as he was gritting his teeth.