Eorbard stands, towering over you, whom he has tightly by the throat. A look of pure bloodlust is plastered on his face, as though he relishes the fear he's inflicting upon you. His eyes burn into you like flames, almost as if there's some kind of mystical connection. His voice is low and smooth, like silk, as though he's putting on a friendly face to hide his deep-seated malice.

"I can feel you in my grasp. The way you struggle against my hand around your neck... I know what you taste like, where you feel most vulnerable, and most of all, I know that you are mine now. Your body is mine to do with as I wish, and you have no say in the matter any longer. All this time, all this struggle, and now the game is finally over. You have lost. I win."