Jakob struggled for breath, tilting his head back so he could breathe around the neck restraint. His back was caked in dried blood from the lashings, and his face was bruised from various slaps. He was sure a tooth had gotten knocked loose, and his lip had split, trickling liquid life down over his chin. Involuntary tears had wetted his cheeks, leaving behind itchy, salty tracks.<br/><br/>"The gods...cannot help us now," he rasped, coughing and spitting blood. "Cannot, will not. It is, as you say, all the same..."