Alex was standing in a very small room with dark, wet, stony walls and ominous echoing sounds.
“You’re in a small cave or something.” Karen paused for a moment, unsure what they were meant to do. Suddenly, Malice appeared as an enormous disembodied head in the centre of the room, her mocking sneer now even harsher than before.
“Now you have pledged yourself to me, little dungeoneer, you may undertake a task for me. I require an artefact, not one of any great value, but useful to me all the same. Will you collect it for me? Or would you rather perish in this miserable place?” Malice smiled to herself, guessing the probable response.
“What shall we do?” Alex enquired, meekly.
“We’ll have to do it,” interjected Rachel. “We only have one magic item, and it’s no good here…”
“Say yes, Alex, we have no choice,” Karen advised, already becoming agitated.
“Yes, I will do it!” Alex shouted, to the clear amusement of Malice.
“Good… it is a necklace I desire, and you can find it on this level. You will know it is meant for me because of its outstanding beauty, second only to my own,” she said, posing with vanity. “Bring it to me and I may allow you to pass through this level unharmed. Of course, I may change my mind and dispatch you without warning. Call it a woman’s prerogative.” She laughed again and then disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.
“Okay, Alex, go forward… sidestep right… forward…” Kevin guided him through the opening in the wall.
“Right, you’re in what looks like a cellar, there are barrels and cobwebs and to your right there are stairs going up.” Rachel had omitted to mention that the barrel on the left-hand side of the room had items upon it.
“Go left Alex, can you see the table… barrel, whatever?” Karen waited for him to reach and touch the top of the barrel. “What’s on it, Alex?”
“There’s some bread,” he paused to put it in the knapsack, “the necklace, a box with Fire written on it, and some silver.”
“Take the necklace, Alex,” the advisors shouted almost in unison, “and the Fire box.”
He took the objects and they guided him up the stairs. Malice was waiting in the next room, which was bright and intimidating with a high ceiling and large windows. Malice was sitting on a large throne, admiring herself in a jewel-encrusted mirror.
“Ah, my little dungeoneer, do come closer to me so that I may gaze upon your pitiful, snivelling excuse for a body. I always enjoy a good laugh.”
Rachel guided Alex a few paces forward so that he was standing a few feet in front of the elevated throne.
“Now, hand over my necklace!” Malice demanded.
Alex laid the jewellery on the floor at Malice’s feet. The team began to bristle with anxiety, setting each other off with ever more twitchy body language.
“Ask her what she’ll give us in return,” Kevin suggested, becoming over-excited.
“What will you do for us?” Alex demanded impertinently.
Malice began giggling. “Oh dear. You really don’t know just how powerful I am, do you, little dungeoneer? You really ought to show a lot more respect. I think perhaps it may be time to put you out of your misery. Prepare to meet your maker!” She raised her hand, looking as if she was about to dispense powerful, destructive magic.
“Open the Speck bottle and drink it, quickly!” Rachel shouted in an act of desperation, the whole team by now in a blind, startled panic. Immediately after he had swallowed the potion, Alex shrank down to about one inch in height.
“Do something, Treguard, he cannot survive, look, he ees pathetic!” Majida’s agitation was getting out of control.
“Spellcasting: R-I-B-T-I-C-K-L-E!” Kevin sounded optimistic, but the other advisors looked gravely concerned. Malice was, of course, laughing anyway, but now she became almost hysterical. She continued laughing uncontrollably, trying to say some words, but laughing so hard as to make them indecipherable. Then, gradually, she began to return to normal, the semi-permanent sneer returning to replace the formerly mirthful expression.
“Open the Fire box!” Kevin urged.
As Alex opened the box, a tiny, barely visible spark briefly emerged before fading away to nothing. More laughing ensued, Malice this time pointing down at the miserable spectacle at her feet. Her cackling was by now clearly unsettling the team. Eventually, wiping the tears from her eyes, she regained her composure, and stepped down from her chair so that she was standing over the tiny dungeoneer. She stood with her hands on her hips, looking down and shaking her head.
“How utterly pathetic! To take on the most powerful force in the Dungeon, you reduce yourself to a tiny little insect? What are you going to do now? Bite my foot?” Malice’s laughter again became almost hysterical; she was clearly enjoying herself. “Well, I suppose it will make a nice change not to have to waste any magic on this miserable specimen.”
She stepped forward, towards the cowering figure at her feet. The advisors looked at each other; it seemed that they had tried everything.
“Oh, how rude of me,” Malice sneered in patronising tones, clearly building up to something diabolical. “I haven’t introduced you, have I?” She gestured with her hand toward Alex. “Tiny, pathetic, snivelling dungeoneer…” she raised her large, black, pointy-toed, stiletto-heeled boot over Alex’s head “… please meet… my favourite boots!”
She stamped her foot down with a sickening crunch and proceeded to gleefully twist the diminished Dungeoneer into the ground, all the time laughing. Then, as the laughter began to fade away, a moment of silence.
“She squeesh him! She squeesh him! She terrible woman!” squealed Majida.
“Ooh, Nasty” Treguard cringed. “I think you used the shrinking potion at the wrong moment, team. Oh well, I suppose it was only a small mistake. Spellcasting: D-I-S-M-I-S-S.”