We teleported into a large cell, deep beneath the mountain. I called it teleportation because what else could it be? Alwyn released me from her embrace and backed out of my new cage. My jaw was aching from how much I was trying to move, but my body was still uncooperative.

“What have you done to me?” I snarled through clenched teeth.

“You’ve got magic in you, little fly. Great magic, but mine is now greater. I’ve simply surrounded you with a little nullification hex that will stop you being an annoyance while you’re here.”

“How can you do this? Ilfred said you were all just elementalists. Conjurers of wind and fire.”

Her eyes narrowed at the mention of her previous partner. “Small vision from a small man. I always knew there was far greater power in us. It just hadn’t been unlocked.”

“So you can do more than shoot fireballs?” I grunted, trying to raise my arm.

“Far more. Once I’ve shown him what he can be, Ilfred will change his mind and join me.”

“He’s dead.”

Alwyn flinched back as if struck. “What? How?”

“Your greenskin masters shot him through the eye with a crossbow. He died in my arms at Pitchhollow.” Even without a degree in psychology, I was certain of a guaranteed weakness in the arch-sorceresses character. The barb about masters hurt her even more than the news of her friend’s untimely death, proving my point.

“I have no masters,” she spat, holding up a hand where a spark ignited on her palm. Within two seconds, it was a swirling fireball, the searing radiance lighting up her manic features.

I wanted to get the death out of the way and respawn at Pitchhollow with the rest of my friends. “Says the crazy bitch skulking in the mountain surrounded by orcs and goblins.” I smiled at her.

Like a Zippo with the lid snapped shut, the fire disappeared, leaving a glowing spot on my vision. “I can see you want to die, which means that there is a point to it. I’ll have to give that some thought.”

And with that, she whirled away, silken robes flowing after her.

“Wait! What am I doing here? What are you going to do with me?” I yelled.

Left alone in the cage within the large cavern, I noticed the heat that was cooking my head like a Spanish sun. A thin seam on a pair of thick steel shutters was glowing red. A blob of molten metal dripped from it, splashing onto the floor.

“What the shit?” I blurted, dodging backwards from the little spots of liquid fire that jumped towards me.

Moving to the edge of the cage, I could just about make out a massive trough above me. Jets of flame blazed from an altogether dangerous looking series of tubes, keeping the metal above my head in molten form. Was it a trap? An execution device? Knowing the proclivity my green captors had for meat, I doubted they would waste a meal in such a bizarrely intricate way. I grasped the steel bars of the locked door and tried to wrench it open. I felt the heat of the slag above trickle down faster. I spun round, finding my attempts to yank at the lock had triggered a release along the seam.

“Ok! Ok! I’ll leave it alone!”

The drizzle of glowing metal looked like a waterfall from hell, but slowly it resealed itself now that I had stopped my attempts to break free. I couldn’t see an obvious link between the two things. There were no trigger wires or anything like that. It might’ve been magical in nature, or there could’ve been a little goblin watching me from a security booth nearby, his eager little hand on the lever. I was like the proverbial mushroom; kept in the dark. I hadn’t yet been fed shit, but that time was coming, I could feel it.

What the hell was I supposed to do? As keen as I’d been for a quick death moments ago, the thought of self-saturation with a vat of liquid iron wasn’t that appealing. It looked cool as fuck when Arnie had given Johnny C the thumbs up in Terminator 2, but I didn’t think I had the discipline to maintain the pose as my bones and flesh melted. I also had to contend with the fact I had no idea of the rules of respawning, because I hadn’t yet been through it. With my luck, I’d be just as likely to respawn in the cage, falling into the same molten metal and thrashing around like the T-1000 in a never-ending death loop that would crack my sanity like a nut.

That left me one option. Buy time for my friends to arrive. I still had access to my HUD, even if everything was locked away inside it. I pulled up the world map and extrapolated the time it took us to reach Pitchhollow and the distance to Whitespear mountain. If they double timed it, they would likely be knocking on the door in a week or so. My only real hope of a faster rescue would be the arrival of Milton and the barbarian forces, but I had no idea where they currently were.

“Fuck my life,” I groaned.

A week of digging in my mind, or whatever Alwyn had said, to try and get at my secrets. The fact that I couldn’t gift them to her would probably earn me a few scorched fingers or worse. The impossible nature of her goals got me to thinking.

“Bart, if you’re there, I could really use some help?”

There was no reply except the hiss of escaped gasses and the shrieks of my captors nearby. I tried not to think too deeply into the sheer volume and number that were making noise.

“Bart? Alien people? Ron Burgundy? Can anyone hear me?”

Alwyn reappeared with a staff. “Who is it you’re talking to, little fly?”

“Firstly, my name’s Mark. And secondly, none of your business.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I noticed the sickly green glow that emanated from the crystal topping her weapon. Just the sight of it made my flesh crawl. I tried to pull up the item’s description, but it would only give me the name.

Item – Staff of the Defiler (Legendary)

That didn’t sound good at all. I backed away towards the rock, giving a wide berth to the slowly cooling pool of metal in the centre of my prison.

“Come here,” said Alwyn, beckoning me with a finger. “We’re going to get intimately acquainted, little… I mean, Mark.”

My feet left the floor and I floated towards her helplessly. Her weapon may have been off limits, but her own character tab wasn’t.

Name – Alwyn Rhedryn (Level 29) (Boss)

Description – Forty-fourth arch-mage of the Kherrash kingdom, Alwyn rose through the ranks of her peers through sheer determination. When others would sleep, she would study. When they would eat, she would practice. If only her achievements hadn’t warped her mind.

Weakness – Physical. Poison.

Immunities – None

“I don’t want to sound like a dick, but you’re really not my type.” I groaned, struggling against the invisible shackles.

“I’m everyone’s type,” she replied, setting me down.

“Yeah, if people wanted a psycho dominatrix to walk all over their balls in stiletto heels.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Thank god for that,” I said, grateful that my nethers were off limits for now.

“There are no gods down here, Mark. Only a goddess and monsters.”

“Did you really just call yourself a goddess, you narcissistic trog?” I laughed.

She scowled at my outburst. “What are these words you use? What is a trog? Is that some kind of insult?”

“A trog. A troglodyte. A festering skank that sells fifty pence blow jobs to buy her two litre bottles of White Lightning cider.”

Instead of rising to the bait, she just aimed her staff at my head. Now, I’ve had hangovers that felt as if I’d gone five rounds with Tyson. I’d even had a few migraines that the doctor attributed to stress, and they felt like Tyson, Ali, Frazier, and Bruce Lee had gone at me for sleeping with their wives. The side of my head felt like razor blades had been dropped in my brain and someone was jumbling them about. The merest sliver of light triggered blinding pain.

But this… Holy fuck. As soon as the crippling agony radiated throughout my head, I was beaten. Forget all that captured soldier holding out forever against the torturers who became ever more frustrated with the resolve on show. I. Was. Done. The pain I’d felt when the webspinner had bitten me was multiplied by fifty and concentrated in the little blob of jelly that constituted my brain. It was beyond feeling like acid was eating away at my grey matter. It was as if my head was coming apart, molecule by molecule, each of them being prodded and cut by an atomic scalpel. My bladder and bowels let go instantly, but I was unaware of the humiliation until Alwyn released me. It could’ve been three seconds after she had begun, it could’ve been three days. Time had stretched out and become meaningless. I collapsed in a heap amidst my own bodily leavings.

“How did that feel? Would you like some more?”

I couldn’t answer. I just held up a trembling hand, begging for mercy.

“Are you going to speak to me with a little more respect?”

I nodded, the movement triggering a fresh wave of residual pain that had me vomiting all over myself.

“Dirty little fly. If you behave, I might have the orcs bring you some water to wash with.”

“What…” I managed before I broke down coughing from my suddenly dry throat. Each racking expulsion of air felt like a bomb going off in my head. I managed two before I blacked out completely.