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|secretweapon||Score: 15||Moves: 0|
You slash at the Ur-Grue. The Ur-Grue dies.
Not so fast, Eager McBeaver. The Ur-Grue's acid blood splashes upon you, melting the skin off your bones. In minutes, you have rotted, dying a painful, agonizing death.
As you take your last breath, you feel relieved of your burdens. The feeling passes as you find yourself before the gates of Hell, where the spirits jeer at you and deny you entry. Your senses are disturbed. The objects in the dungeon appear indistinct, bleached of color, even unreal.
You appear to be made of a translucent floating white substance. There seems to be a golden halo hovering above your head.