Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20140617212149/@comment-3293219-20140618195741

Jaryl awoke, feeling some pain in his arms, from where two people were tightly gripping him and a sharp sting in the back of his head. He felt elevated, like he was flying, though he knew that he was just being lifted, he knew that from the fact that he had fingernails digging into his arms.

He opened his eyes and saw that his feet had blurred into focus, his legs dangling limply, no longer wrapped around in the long armoured coat that he had 'bought' from Bruma. He could feel himself getting slowly lifted as something dragged over his face, burning it ever so slightly before dropping around his neck.

"Gerk? Wake him up..." A voice ordered, prompting two large feet to approach the Bosmer, they stopped infront of him and Jaryl felt an incredibly sharp pain in his face as he looked away.

"Argh!"

"Wake up asshole!" The Orc yelled at him, his voice echoed inside his ears, it was incredibly hollow and tinny and it made Jaryl cringe, like he had a hangover but without the headache. The Bosmer groaned as he looked up, seeing that he was face to face with an incredibly ugly orc, unfortanetly sharing his breath.

The Orsimer stepped aside, revealing a Dunmer man, with long black hair, he stood, with his arms folded, wearing Jaryl's coat over some regular civilian clothes. He watched the Bosmer as he was prepared by his comrades, holding him up, so that he could look down on the bandits, who had congregated beneath his feet.

"Ah, glad that you could be awake for this..." The Dunmer said, with a smile, turning back to his men.

"I think it's about time that this... Asshole knows what he's done to our little community!"

There was a loud cheer as several bandits pumped their fists in the air, chanting 'yeah' over and over again, the atmosphere grew even more lively as the Dunmer approached Jayl and patted his boot.

"We don't take too kindly to folks murderin' our people... Especially folks as well loved as Alax!"

This got another cheer and some angry glares, which were pointed in Jaryl's direction, the Bosmer didn't care though, if they didn't want her to die, they shouldn't have sent her after him.

"They attacked me, asshole..."

"No, they gave you a choice!" The Dunmer corrected him, shaking his finger.

"And you chose the wrong one..."

"So... The right choice was to give them all of my stuff? You people really are as dumb as you look..." Jaryl pointed out, instantly being dropped a few feet, feeling the rope around his neck press against his throat but it wasn't choking him yet.

"Says the asshole, who is insulting his captor, during his hanging!" The Dunmer reminded him, seething as he walked away, getting a better view.

"Well, any final words before you go swingin'?" This got a laugh from some of his crew, though it was most likely to land themselves in his good graces.

Jaryl paused for a second, feeling the rope brush against his neck as he felt his stomach shift, nobody knew that he was out here, he was...

Alone...

They were all too busy, 'not caring' and now he'd die, alone, angry, scared, grief stricken...

At least he'd get to be with Isis...

Hopefully...

If that's how it worked, he hoped that he'd open his eyes to find himself in his bed, with her looming over him. She'd lie on him and hug him and they'd spend and eternity together in eachother's embrace...

Perhaps Maria will be there to... Cyrus...

He slowly looked up, sort of thankful to the Dunmer as he was about to release him from his torement, tears built up in his eyes and rolled down his face but he didn't look afraid or upset in any way. But... Aratius would live on and Jaryl wouldn't be able to avenge her, for some reason, that bothered him, greatly. It tightened the knot, which had been in his stomach since Isis fell limp in his arms. He wanted revenge; he needed revenge, so that he could return to Isis with a victory.

Aratius had to die, the pitiless, perverted, fuck that he was and Jaryl had to be the one to do it, he looked up, meeting the Dunmer's eyes with a sharp stare.

"Fuck... You."

The Dunmer barely even reacted, giving a slight shrug.

"I've heard better."

Jaryl was let go and began to swing from side to side, like a hypnotist's watch, choking as the rope dug deep into his throat and crushed his windpipe. He gasped and gagged, as he felt himself go dizzy, the faces blurred as he spun around, his throat was in agony as his body was urging him to somehow pull his bound hands up and snatch the rope away from his neck. He noticed that he was slowing down but he also noticed that he was losing consciousness, he had to breath but he couldn't, it was unbearable!

He desperately kicked his legs as he felt the rope tighten around his neck, crushing his throat as his face went redder and redder. The Bosmer felt his brain failing him, prompting his heard to slump forward as he continued to twitch for some time as his body went limp and the swinging came to a stop.

His time with Isis flashed before his eyes, their meeting in that shithole, the only good thing that ever happened to him there, their first 'date' at Crovenhoft, the times where he thought that he'd lost her, when she took Aratius' side, went crazy, flew away, was kidnapped...

The time that he did lose her...

The images all faded away, leaving one fixed image in his mind, he was stood, infront of Jack, holding Isis' hand. His own hand began to tingle in recognition as he closed his fingers, closing his hand around hers and looking back to her with a small smile.

"Isis..." He whispered, hoarsely as his feet stopped squirming and fell limp...

