Chapter 3: Inside a Madman's Funhouse

The first thing Argon did as he emerged from that cage was to stretch his sore muscles, letting the power that had been restrained return to his form. The second thing he did, as a test to make sure he was back to normal, was to slam into the one-armed golem, with a thundering roar, fists swinging, kicking, biting even, and ripping huge hunks out of the emotionless thing. It took all of twenty seconds for it to become pebbles on the dungeon floor.

With that taken care of, he began to check around the dank chamber, searching for possible exits. There was a gloomy looking hallway, from which the golem had come trotting down, as well as small metal door off to another side. Argon chose the door. Trying the handle, it was no small surprise that it was locked. This was, for the most part, a prison after all. Fortunately, Argon had long since come up with an alternate and ultimately superior way of dealing with doors that were sealed.

He found a few cracks here and there to wedge his fingers into, stepped back, and wrenched the otherwise unmovable steel door right off its hinges, and flung it aside without a second glance. He stuck his head inside, and gave a shark smile. It seems he had picked correctly.

This room was surprising well kept. In it was yet another golem, this one standing immobile. It was guarding a long table, on which sat some very familiar items. Argon's equipment, right down to the magical rings. Before he got overly hasty, he approached the golem. As if reacting to his presence, it began to speak in its grumbling impassive undertones.

"Prisoner…you must not escape. The master does not will it." Seeing as this may at the very least get him some information, Argon didn't just tear into this golem, and rip it to pieces like the last.

"Your master hmm? The ugly bastard? Who is here, and where might I find him? I've got something for him." The golem didn't move, didn't even look who was addressing it, but answered nonetheless.

"I am not permitted to speak with prisoners. Return to your cells. It is the master's wish."

"Somehow, I don't think you're in the talking mood. I know…let me persuade you…" And with as much casualness as one drinks a beverage, Argon proceeded to snap the huge creatures arm right off, at the shoulder, and pitched it out the door behind him.

"How about now? Feel like talking rock-man?" But, as it was almost considered inanimate, the severe damage didn't change the golem's disposition.

"You must not disobey the master. Return to your cell."

"Oh well, I tried to be nice." Knowing this behemoth wasn't going to do anything remotely challenging, like…retaliate, Argon strolled behind it, climbed up its back, wrapped his fingers around its head, and with some superhuman pulling, tore it right off. He held this grossly oversized head in his hands, and he grinned at it.

"A souvenir of this place. But I doubt I could pawn it... Oh well," and proceeded to grind it into dust. With that little nuisance taken care of, he turned his attention to his equipment.

"Good thing that freak didn't touch my stuff…Good thing for him." His first order of business was to fasten his heavy plate armor in place, giving him the enhanced defense. This took only a few minutes, and this was followed by the Helm and Cloak of Baldarian, still in excellent condition. Then strapping on some leather bracers, and slipping his rings back on his fingers. Argon hadn't been wearing any footwear in the dungeon, so, it was pretty nice to slide the soles of his feet into the cool leather of the Boots of Speed, giving him that nigh uncatchable momentum.

And lastly, his favorite toy, he picked up his sword, which at once, almost as if it sensed its wielders' return, flared to life, with its horrible red fire.

"Nice to see you too," he spoke to the blade, giving it a grin. He had flashbacks of all the many people that he had slashed, impaled, decapitated, butchered and incinerated with that weapon. "And I'm not done yet. Now, let's see if I can find a way out of this hole. I'd like to introduce my captor to you." Once he was suited up, he stepped back into the dungeon, and proceeded down the murky hallway, trampling over the remains of several skeletons.

At the end, there was a bizarre machine, crackling electricity, generating small imp creatures, that were cackling and dancing about in a seemingly pointless manner. As the hulking armored fiend walked in, the lot of them, about six or so, began shrieking, and charged right at him. It was rather sad actually, they fruitlessly attacking him. He didn't even use his sword, as while they were trying to harm him, he reached down, took up one by the head, crushed its skull, chucked the carcass away, and went on to the next. Once they were dead, he casually stepped over to the device, and nonchalantly plowed his fist right through it.

It blew up in a blaze of lightning energy, which fried everything in the room, save Argon. He shook off the effects of severe electrocution as one would shake off rainwater. He continued on.

Down yet another hallway, full of creatures that are hardly worth mentioning, as Argon proceeded to maul them into mere gunk, found a large rather brightly illuminated chamber, with easily two dozen sizeable glass tanks, filled with water, as well as three that had…well things, floating inside. Sparking his curiosity, he leaned closer. They had vague humanoid forms, but couldn't have really been classified as human anymore.

"I'd kill them," he mused, "But they're probably in more pain like that, so I'll leave them." The majority of the tanks were empty, and just to make an impression of what he thought of his host, Argon tore the room to pieces, leaving only the three. "Have a nice life in there," he called as he left.

Going this way and that, he past a couple rooms filled with nothing noticeable, some storage by the looks, another golem, deactivated, and miscellaneous garbage, most of which was strewn about in a haphazard and slobbish way.

"No maid?" Argon questioned the inanimate statue, but got no answer. Moving on, a bit farther down, he came across a vast library, shelves of books, scrolls, and notes. Guarding said library, was a small platoon of assorted monsters, that were, by Argon's standards, not even maggots. After yet another brutal bout of savagery, he began pursuing the titles of the leather bound volumes.

Several things that pertained to Alando's prophecy, the Times of Troubles, and of course, the dead Lord of Murder, Bhaal. To him, they were meaningless. He didn't really care that much for half-truths, whole-lies, and nonsense pertaining to his parentage. "It's all worthless anyways. Bhaal's dead, I'm alive, and I kill people. Write that in a book."

Just around the corner from that, there was a small gathering. Several dwarves, though with a closer look, on could tell that dwarves these were not. Close, but not quite. Their paler complexion, their lighter hair, and the somewhat nasty glare in their eyes all pointed to duergar, close relations to dwarves. As his echoing footfalls approached, they turned towards him, all of them armed with a crossbow and short sword.

"Be alert lads!" their leader called, "We've got company. Ho, prisoner! Ye've come to th' wrong place, I tell ye true! Ilyich and 'is boys'll stop you!" This empty and meaningless threat didn't exactly make Argon quiver in fear.

"Well," he informed this small band of no more than six duergar, "I'd have to say, that unless you've got about two hundred more of your boys hanging around, then I think you'll be doing no such thing Ilyich."

"At 'im lads! No mercy!" With the command, the posse all drew their crossbows, leveling them at the towering Bhaalspawn in the door. "Bad move," Argon thundered, and though his voice was loud, his words still hissed in the duergar's ears. Like a swift flash of light, Argon dashed forward, his movements improved by the enchanted boots, and before anyone could launch a volley of already obsolete steel tipped crossbow bolts, he had rammed his flaming sword in its entirety through the leader, as well as some of his arm.

Without even slowing, he pulled free, swiped off the head of the nearest, and took a swing at the next. One happened to be a mage, but he never even had enough time to decide what spell he may have wanted to cast, before his head too was rolling on the stone floor, next to a few others. They carried nothing of notice, save the leader, who had called himself Ilyich. He had a small bag, brimming with seeds, the likes of which Argon hadn't seen before. "Hmm," he commented, putting them into his own carrying sack, "Might make a good snack later."

With them dispatched, Argon backtracked a ways, finding a long corridor, which led through a sewer, and ended up in a beautifully adorned room, with plush carpets, fine furniture, and top notch traps lining the floor, ranging from poison arrows, lightning bolts, and noxious gases. This had the barest of effects on Argon, namely, it slowed him down for a split second. No small accomplishment.

"This is one messed up place," Argon commented to himself. "First the dungeon, then all kinds of experimental equipment, and golems all over the place. And now this lavish room, filled with priceless pieces of crap. Mage, obviously. But I wonder…what is this asshole after?"

Scouring the room yielded nothing, so he went down, to a small inside grove of dark trees. Argon paused before entering the room, as he sensed something in the room beyond, something far stronger than the normal pitiful creatures he had battered thus far. He took a whiff, getting a scent. Then…he smiled. It was a smell he recognized, and something that he was craving.

He stepped past the threshold of trees, and advanced. There, cowering amongst the trees, were enchanting creatures; breathtaking to behold, almost like elven maidens, but different. Their presence was that of something natural, reflected by their minimal amounts of clothing, adorned with nature itself. Three dryads, the elusive tree sprits. At his approach, they seemed to hesitantly step out from the trees.

"Protect me!" cried one.

"Yes, help us!" begged the second.

"Free us," beseeched the third. Argon paused, looking the three over with a careful and scrutinizing eye.

"And who might you three ravishing young things be?"

"We are his possessions," the first informed him.

"His servants," added the second.

"His concubines," finished the third, a notable tone of disgust in her voice.

"I see. And who is this his, you are going on about? I assume the master of this place?"

"Yes, his name is Irenicus," the first revealed.

"A horrible necromancer," the second put in.

"The vilest sort of monster," the third spat out.

"Irenicus," Argon rumbled, rubbing his chin, happy that he now had a name to hunt. "Well, I've got a little something for him. It's a very painful death. Know where he's at?"

"Not in the dungeon," the first told him.

"Outside," said the second.

"Fighting interlopers," ended the third.

"Alright," he told them with a sharp growl, "you really got to stop talking like that. Well, I'll be looking for a way out."

"Wait," cried the first.

"Yes, you must help us," the second pleaded.

"Yes, help us," reiterated the third.

"Now, why would I do that," he asked them, his tone mocking, his head tilting. "I'm not really into the business of helping people. I happen to work under the principle of quid-pro-quo. Something for something else." The three traded worried, almost terrified glances.

"But we can tell you how to escape," the first told.

"Yes, and we have nothing else to offer you," the second almost apologized.

"Yes, nothing at all," the third emphasized. But Argon wasn't buying that. "Actually, that isn't true," his eyes glowing with that terrifying black light. "You three do have something I want. Something that I've haven't had in quite some time." He advanced in a crouch, like a panther, grinning. He turned his sword upside-down, and planted it into the ground, leaving it behind, coming all the closer. "You give me what I want, then I'll give you what you want. Do we have a deal?" The dryads gave each other forlorn looks, there being a hint of tears in their lovely eyes.

"We have a deal," the first told him, while the other two merely began removing their simple clothing.

Twenty minutes later…

"Ahh," Argon commented, feeling far less stressed and more relaxed, "I have to admit, that you three certainly know what you're doing. That was something else." The dryads were huddled on the ground. They had not cried, they were stronger than that, and had suffered worse indignities.

"Now that you have had your fill," the first giving his a fiery glare, "Will you fulfill your end of this, and help us?" Argon finished putting his equipment back in place, then glanced behind.

"Well, actually, I wasn't going to," he began, the three dryads' faces growing pale, "But after that… shit, well I guess I have to now."

"You are a beast of a human," the second declared with anger in her sweet voice, "but I suppose it does not matter so long as you help free us."

"You must find out acorns," the third explained, "and take them to the Fairy Queen, so our trees may be regrown, that we might escape." Argon grinned, pulling out the seeds he had acquired earlier.

"You must mean these, I take it? These are your magic seeds?"

"They are," the first answered, "If you truly are a man of your word, you will aid us. Take them to the Fairy Queen's grove. It resides northeast of a human settlement called Trademeet." He shrugged.

"Albeit from me to question your logic in this, as to why you need me to do this, if you already know the way out, but fine. Speaking of which, in addition to what you've already given, you said you'd tell me where the exit to this dump is at."

"We did," the second replied, "And we will tell you. You must first find the key. It is in…her room."

"Yes, he still loves her" the third went on, "The key is there. A device to activate the portal, which he uses to get around. It will take you to the upper level. The exit is there." They pointed further down the grove of trees, to another faint light. "The key is in there. But be warned, it is full deadly devices."

"I've long since stopped worrying about those," he answered, and went off. As he entered the room, there was a short burst of warning bells, perhaps an alarm system, and at once, two golems just inside the room activated.

"The sanctity of the mistress' room has been violated. The intruder will die!"

"No, I don't think he will," but talking to these creatures was futile. They fell to the ground in smoldering pieces, a trifle at best. "So much for keeping the sanctity," he called behind, entering the chamber. As immoderate and posh as the other grand room had been, this was even better. The architecture was in graceful curves, spun carpets decorated with leaves, and furniture that was beautiful.

"Well, someone around here has good taste." A quick search of the room, resulting in easily half a dozen traps to fire, Argon found a large chunk of metal, vaguely shaped like a key.

"Pretty retarded key," he commented, tossing it up and down, "but if it gets me the hell out of this rank place, then I don't really give a damn." He returned to the original luxurious room, and at the opposite end, in a deep alcove that had numerous boxes, was a twelve span tall round gate, with a glittering, sparkling surface, like illuminated liquid. "Guess with this thing I can go in now. Looks like its water. Oh well, time to go swimming!"

With no hesitation, Argon approached, and passed through the gateway, which was accompanied by both a gurgling whirling whine of energy, as well as a most peculiar sensation. Like that of stepping through an enormous bubble. There was darkness, but only for a few seconds, before a rush of wind, and flash of light, and Argon was glancing around. He quickly saw that he was not alone. An almost ridiculously smaller man watched him emerge, and approached, a sly and wary grin on his mouth.

"So," he exclaimed, in a welcoming tone, with a most peculiar accent, "there is sanity in all of this madness. If you are not in league with the evil that dwells in this unholy place, Yoshimo begs your assistance."