(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

Mercykiller's reply.
"'Then I spit on your cowardice!' Kossacs laughed, feeling for the chalice in
the darkness, then hurling it at the wall and shattering it. Its poison dripped
from the walls and dried, until it was no more. 'Come then - you will have to
try and kill me now.'
"But there was no response from the grate in the ceiling. It was then that
Kossacs noticed the cell had no cot. No lights. And no food and water. All
that remained was the shattered chalice, the poison gone. And for the first
time, Kossacs knew the icy touch of death's approach.
"In twice-thirty days, the grate opened, and Kossacs' body, now cold, was
taken from the cell. It had given up its life, and the execution had been
carried out."
Eager for another story, I looked to my companions, "Annah... do you have a
story to trade?"
"Aye, I'm a no good at telling such things, I'm not." She frowned, and waved
her hands as if trying to shoo away the idea. "Donnae be asking me fer such
nonsense, now."
Yves smiled at Annah. "But I would very much like to hear your story..."
"Please share your story, Annah..." I urged.
"C'mon already, fiendling. You already have one tail you won't part with,"
Morte grumbled.
Annah looked uncomfortable, her tail lashing slowly back and forth. "Well, I
know one story..." She suddenly became angry, glaring at Yves. "...but yeh
might not like it, yeh won't, so don't be blamin' me fer yer chokin' it outta
me!"
"Go ahead, Annah..."
Annah scowled, then finally relented with an exasperated sigh. "I heard a
story when I was a wee lass.
"This berk's walkin' home real late, near anti-peak, an' passes an old
544