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You really are incorrigible, aren't you?

All right. So be it.

You wrap your hands around the man's neck, and begin to squeeze. A guttural, choking sound comes from his throat, as his eyes bulge and his mouth opens in a desperate gasp for air. Wild, malicious eyes turn on you, and the choke begins to transform into an enraged roar.

With a swift, powerful movement, the man breaks free of your grip, thrusting your arms aside. You almost fall over from the force, but you manage to stay on your feet.

"You dare challenge the Mailer Daemon?!" the man, who you now know is the Mailer Daemon, bellows, and charges at you. "May your outgoing emails be redirected!"

You dodge to the side, narrowly avoiding the rushing juggernaut, and reach for one of the barstools. Before he has a chance to turn around, you lift the stool up and bring it crashing down upon his back. The legs snap and shatter, sending a burst of splintering wood flying. Much to your dismay, he doesn't crumple to the floor defeated.


Instead, the Mailer Daemon stretches, his body elongating  in a manner most unnatural. Tentacles emerge from his back, seeping through his flesh and clothes as if bleeding in from another reality. These new appendages wriggle and writhe as if they possess a consciousness of their own. You take an unnerved step backwards, looking around for something - anything - you might be able to use as a weapon.

"All important emails will automatically be sorted to spam!"

You just about manage to grab an empty bottle from a table when the tentacles come careening towards you. You strike the tentacles with the bottle, but it's of little use. The glass smashes, but it'll take more than that to defeat the eldritch horror. The tentacles wrap around you, entwining and squeezing ever tighter as you feel the breath being forced from your body.

The last thing you see as your vision fades to black is an error message:

Error: Connection to Life Lost

You Have Perished.

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