Nepeta

- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling ferryGuide [FG] at ?:?? –
GC: H3LLO D34TH
GC: H4S SH3 4RR1V3D Y3T
FG: She has yet to show upon my sea
FG: If she does I’ll speak to thee
FG: Until then just leave me be
FG: I have more work on this dark eve
GC: 1 W1SH YOU WOULD STOP TH4T STUP1D RHYM1NG
GC: JUST M4K3 SUR3 SH3 SUFF3RS
FG: I will tear her flesh from her bone
FG: Her screams of pain will scare the Drone
FG: Let her torture soon commence
FG: Unless of course, she repents
GC: Y34H L1K3 TH4T WOULD H4PP3N
GC: GOODBY3
FG: Farewell
- gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling ferryGuide [FG] at ?:?? –
Death ceases typing on his Scythe Typewriter. That troll child began pestering him not long ago, and they began having intriguing conversations. He found himself pondering if colors, as she claimed, really did have flavors. It was a question he may soon get to answer. Death was recently informed by her the death of Vriska Serket, a troll who had it coming for some time.
Death returns to the river styx. He sets his scythe down onto the damned waters and watched it shift its form into a Scythe Boat. He steps onto the boat and takes a seat, he leans back and stares at the stalagmites that hang above him. The souls of the damned and the eternally cursed float above his head, he watches in awe. He has seen this sight a million times before but it has never ceased amazing him.
His boat reaches the dock, the door to Hell closes. In front of it stands a lost and confused being. She stares at her surroundings, fearful of what may come to be. This woman was not Vriska, Death had no reason to let this uninteresting woman plague him longer than a lifetime. Time flows in the realm of the dead differently, here a second is a day, and a day is minute, a year is an hour, and an hour a second.  Time matters not here, and neither does she.

Death approaches her slowly and taps the edge of his Scythe Boat, it morphs back into a regular Scythe. She stares at Death with a confused look. She shivered as his cold breath seeped out his boney jaw and teased her neck with and lips a dreary kiss.
“I…wh-where am I?”
Death gives her a blank stare, he raises his scythe as it again transmogrifies itself into a new entity, it becomes a tiny tea cup. It looks frail and seems to be fine china, it has a floral pattern. His cracked and raspy voiced asks, “Tea or death?”
The troll gives him an ominous look, she wasn’t sure if he was being serious. The tea cup looks very lavish and inviting, compared to the dark and damp surroundings that make her spine shiver. She steps towards the shady figure known as death and reaches for the cup. She sputters out cautiously, “I….I ch-choose the tea...”
Death quickly steps to her and wraps an arm around her. He forces the teacup to her lips and the steamy aroma of the tea begins to overtake her. The heavenly smell is so tantalizing she can not resist. As Death begins to slowly grant her the wish for a savoring beverage, it brings her taste buds to pure bliss for a moment. Once she has her fill of the scrumptious fluid she attempts to push Death away.
“My dear child you have chosen wrong
Death is what to want all along
So no take a drink as deep as you can
It only helps steal your shortening life span”
The troll begins to panic as she cannot stop this elixir of death from tormenting her, it begins to overflow within her belly and seep out through her mouth and nostrils. She could feel herself drowning in the tea that had tasted so good. Now it tasted of blood and pain, she gags on it. She feels it seeping out of where it should not be. She begins to feel tears escape her eyes; at least she hopes it is, a gut wrenching feeling and sensation convinces her it may be the tea, the damned tea.
“Once you tasted this vile brood
It put me in a foul mood
Now all I do is let you choke
That is, until you croak.”
She gurgled and coughed, vomited and writhed. Till her body fell limp from drowning in liquid black sorrow. Death drops her lifeless body to the cold rocky surface and extracts her soul. It wails out in agony as it joins the other sinners in eternal damnation.
At the passageway to this hell Vriska stands, watching what just transpired. She is not fearful, she simply understands now that tea is not the right choice. However she doubts choosing death is a better option, that won’t stop her from beating Death at his own game. She approaches him and begins to mock him, “Is that all the fuss is about? Pfft, I am not afraid of you. I challenge you to-“
He cuts her off mid sentence to ask, “Tea or death?”
Vriska shakes her head, “Neither, I want to play a game with you. You like those sorts of things, don’t you?” She grins slyly; there have been many tales of Death never passing up the chance for some sort of game to be played in order for you to win your life back. She was betting her life on it, which was the only thing she really had left.
Death had his curiosity piqued; he wondered exactly what she may have in mind for a game. However he had put those days behind himself, he had done an awful job before, and now thanks to that girl he had finally understood the point of his job. To teach those that could not learn what justice was what real pain is. He chucked the tea cup at Vriska with a swift toss; she narrowly avoided it as Death proclaimed.
“I’ve seen the way you toy with the fates
You seem to think that you are better
It only really makes you deader
So come here child, let us play!”
He smiled grimly at her; a chill would’ve gone down her spine if she wasn’t so dauntless. Regardless as his hand gripped her side she began to feel cold, her body began to ache where he was grabbing she tried to pull away from him as she began to lose all feeling in her side, even more so she was starting to feel sick. Death pushes her away and chuckles as she falls to the ground.
Vriska lifts her shirt slightly to check her side.  The skin was dried and blackened, she brushes a hand against it to try and see if there was any feeling left in her side. There is nothing, she can not feel the hand she can see touching her side. She grits her teeth and snarls back at Death, “What the hell, I thought you were into board games and stupid shit like that!”
Death shakes his head and smiles widely, from boney cheek to boney cheek. He holds his scythe firmly in one hand and raises it high into the air. Vriska tries to protect herself with her arm, hoping to block it with a foolish and dimwitted action. As Death swoops down the scythe he severs two of her fingers. They drop to the ground and splash a small puddle of blood onto the ground.

“The number eight is what you lived by
So by my standards this is why
I shall continue to make you live with that rule
Spilling your blood into a luscious pool.”
Vriska covers her flesh wound with her hand. The blood seeps between her closed fingers as she slowly stands up, wincing at the pain. She bars her teeth at Death, this was quickly becoming a bad situation. She had just lost two fingers because of a dreadful miscalculation. Stepping back, Vriska raises her hands to her head as she begins to attempt to manipulate Death.
Death raises his scythe high into the air, then he freezes mid-movement. His empty eye sockets show no mental thought, but the grim smile he once had sinks down into a blank emotionless grin. Vriska grins and slowly steps towards Death. “That’s all? Hah, not even the afterlife is a match for me!” She laughs to herself happily. A wide grin creeps on her face, her teeth show bright and clear.
In an instant she feels a clamp down on one of her fangs, and with a violent tug her tooth is torn from her gumline. Death grabs Vriska’s shirt by the collar, tossing the other tooth away and clamping down onto another tooth, ripping it out as well. Small trails of blood sputter out from her torn gums. She covers her mouth with her hand and tries to break free, Death continues to tear tooth after tooth from her jaw. When the deed is done Death pushes her to the ground.
“Whappth the fuuck…”
Vriska spits out a small reservoir of blood that had filled her agape mouth. Wiping her lips of the blood that continues to flow freely, she was forced to taste the blue elixir that sustained her. It tasted rotten; she feared it was an omen. Perhaps it reflected how she had behaved in her life, or it was a warning of the pain to come.
“Thappth wappth the moppth fucked up thing ever!”
Death holds up eight fingers and giggles to himself. Vriska stares at him with disbelief, she feels around at her remaining teeth. Only eight of them are left. Death was literal when he said eight of everything, she begins to shake in shoes, and her cold mechanical arm fidgets with a similar nervousness that is beginning to plague her mind.
“So now you see the truth that I speak
And now your will is shrill and weak
So try me fool and fight me now
I’ll slaughter you like a butcher’s cow.”
Vriska had nowhere to run. She fell to her knees as Death raised his scythe and continued his flurry of assaults. He severed two of her toes off to correspond to the eight fingers she had left. Stepping upon her chest and pounding his boney foot down with as much might as he could. She could feel he bones crack and her organs rupture. Death grins as he holds up eight fingers once again. She pauses for a moment and shakes her head. Straining herself to breathe, once, twice, thrice….she can hear him counting out loud. He only gives her a set amount left to live, is that it?
Four breaths.
Death begins to tie rope to her arms and legs, the ropes themselves attach to nothing, they just lay flat on the hard and rocky surface that surrounds them.
Five breaths.
Another rope is tied around her neck, it becomes harder still to breathe as Vriska feels the blood slowly pooling within her body, making her chest heavy.
Six breaths.
He smiles.
Seven breaths
The ropes rise slowly into the air. On the end of each stands a dark mare. The mane of each stallion is black and spiked, their eyes glow dark and chill her to the bones. Their strong hooves shake the very foundations of earth as they trot in place. She blinks and gulps nervously, she only has one left. Make it count.
Eight breaths.
Vriska struggles to get out of it, she tries to tear herself free of these ropes, alas the one around her neck holds firm and nearly strangles her as she writhes about in a pitiable attempt to flee. Death smiles and snaps his boney fingers. The bones crack loudly and the sound frightens the stallions, or maybe it was just a signal. They begin to run off in their separate ways. For a moment Vriska feels pure agony, the pain is unbearable. She would scream if she could, but then the pulling, the ripping, the tearing.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIP.
- ferryGuide [FG] began haunting gallowsCalibrator [GC] at 6:12 am –
FG: Your dreaded deed is now done
FG: Your neverending war has just been won
FG: Do not ask me for another deal
FG: Until its your turn to spin the wheel.
GC: WH4T 4R3 YOU T4LK1NG 4BOUT NOW
GC: W41T 4 M1NUT3
GC: TH4TS NOT FUNNY
GC: FUCK YOU
- gallowsCalibrator [GC] blocked ferryGuide [FG] at 6:13 am -