Chapter 6: A Day at the Circus
Now that Argon was free to move around at his own leisure, he was looking to make up for lost time. But where to start? Waukeen's Promenade was a renowned marketplace, full of people at almost every time of the day, and even during the night. A famous butchering madman going on a rampage in a famous marketplace in a famous sort of fashion adds up to quite a bit of fame. Not that Argon really cared about such things.
People knew his name whether or not he tried to promote himself. So long as his name, notorious or not, put fear into people's hearts and spread horrific tales about his deeds across the land, then he was happy with the world. His first order of business was to step down off the towering pile of rubble he was still perched on, part of the Promenade that had collapsed during Irenicus's defense against the intruders. With him sitting atop it, quite a while since the show had ended, it was earning him a stare or two.
They won't be the last I get today. He chuckled to himself. With a running start and a mighty bound, he leapt off the mountain of stone debris, sailing a great distance through the air, and came crashing down right atop a table that a man and a woman were sitting comfortably at, enjoying a nice drink. Both were dressed rather fashionably, in flowing ruffled silk clothing, complete with bright exuberant colors, no doubt part of the city's aristocracy. And they were undoubtedly angry at how this boorish ruffian had destroyed their outing of watching commoners scurry about, as well as spilling their wine all over their clothes.
"By Jove," the fellow cried out with indignity, fruitlessly attempting to wipe the rapidly growing stains of wine across his blouse, "What in the world do you think your doing, you uncouth brute?! Have you no sense at all? Really now, jumping about like a loutish Neanderthal, its enough to make me wonder as to why all you lot aren't rounded up and put into prisons."
"Quite right darling," the lady agreed, looking none too pleased herself about her now ruined ensemble. She turned a nasty glare towards Argon, who was casually dusting pieces of wreckage off himself. "How dare you! You've completely spoiled my newest dress. Do you even realize who we are, you brainless oaf? We are Lord and Lady Finklie, of noble blood, so I assure you that we are well connected with many high officials, as well as several members of the Council of Six. And after such a rude and blatant disregard for the wellbeing of your betters, I have half a mind to summon the guards, and have them throw your worthless hide in jail. Unless you think you'd be able to rectify the situation…Doubtful I'd say, a penniless pauper like you could never dream to afford such luxuries as this."
All this droning and bantering seemed to become nothing more than a dull buzz in Argon's head, high pitched whining that only served to fuel his dark lust for causing pain. And seeing as they were all but asking for it, he decided to be nice, and deliver. He glanced round at the couple, still griping and fuming about their misfortunate.
"Oh I'm sorry," he apologized lightly, giving off a wide grin, "How clumsy of me. But I tell you what…I have a solution that will make everyone happy. How's that?"
"So you do speak Common," the lady scowled heavily, "Humph…I was beginning to think that you had as much intelligence as a mere stone. Very well then, what is it that you plan to do?" Argon's smile only grew larger, and what many would deem as…more psychotic.
"Well, I'll be a gentleman, and get that stain out for you. Here we go…" and with as much casualness as pursuing a storefront, he laid a huge heavy hand on the ladies shoulder, and before she could protest or order his hands off her, his sword came straight forward. The searing point puncturing the soft skin of her chest, as he carefully, almost gently slid it inside her slowly, the blood about the blade boiling, the nearby organs shriveling and melting, and finally to come tearing out of her back with a ripping sound, of both cloth and flesh.
Her eyes bulged opened wide, as did her mouth, letting out dry heaves, she staining to make some sort of sound, her hands feebly trying to lift up and push herself away. As her life was vanishing, the last thing she saw was those two malevolent black eyes looking back at her, there being a spark of glee in each one.
The Lord stood on, horrified, watching the skewering of his Lady by this murderous behemoth, but he was far too terrified to do anything, such as call the guards, scream, or better yet…run like hell. Argon winked at the eyes of the Lady, as the last traces of life left her, and he pulled his sword free, there being a sickening crunch and meaty split.
"There we go," he told her dead corpse, still cheery and smiling, "Nothing gets wine stains out like blood and fire. But, now that you look like that, we can't leave your husband high and dry. After all, couples should dress alike, shouldn't they?" He lifted his eyes upward, to see the paralyzed noblemen.
"Shall we sir?" In an instant, Argon vaulted over the dead woman, and clapped a huge metal hand around the Lord's mouth, hoisting him into the air. The Lord struggled, his legs kicking in vain.
"Don't worry. This won't hurt. It's actually going to in the category of very near unbearable. But at least you'll die quickly. Okay?" Not wasting any more words, Argon lifted his sword once again, this time bringing the point right up to the Lord's eye, the tip not but a few inches away. In his eyes, there was absolute terror, knowing at what was about to happen, and the Lord redoubled his efforts to escape. These efforts were wasted.
Leisurely, Argon nudged the sword forward, only a little at a time, and after teasing the noble, made contact, the eyeball popping on the initial puncture, and began to ooze. The convulsing began then, the Lord began to thrash even more wildly than before, surprisingly strong for so short and scrawny a man. But not nearly strong enough. Argon took his time, inching his blade forward going in only a little ways, pausing, then continuing. Eventually, the blade came out of the back of his skull, complete with the cracking of bone, but the Lord had long since expired from the shock and brain damage.
"Aww, I like it better when they scream. I'll do that next time. Now…" After letting corpse number two fall, Argon turned about, waiting for the swarms of armed guards to come tearing after him, yelling about justice and arrest, among other equally ludicrous things. But alas, there were no such guards. In fact, no one at all seemed to notice the whole gory spectacle in the slightest. Argon was, in the fewest of words…quite put out.
The laid-back torture of the two pompous idiots would normally almost all but guaranteed to bring loads of fear upon bystanders, and thoughts of vengeance from law enforcement. You would think people would be a bit more attentive of their surroundings, he told himself with a shrug, Or perhaps it merely wasn't grandiose enough. I guess I'll have to make things a bit larger than that.
A bit dissatisfied that his first real act of violence upon the innocent went unnoticed, Argon was certainly not the kind to give up. He was a man who was good at what he did. Murder, and it was his personal view that everyone should do what they are best at. And he hated to disappoint himself. Leaving his two victims behind, he strolled out into the center area of the Promenade, down at bottom, the risers above and around filled with shops. The middle section was always more crowded, there being shows and exhibitions to draw mass attention. A perfect place indeed to start a riot.
In actuality, massacres weren't really Argon's style. He was more about committing heinous crimes to individuals, leaving them in anguish, or killing them outright, until his name began to spread like a vile disease. But he could hardly turn away from such a special chance. This place was all but paved in gold, the opportunities limitless for starting chaos. Just as he suspected, he spied a decent crowd, milling about a large exuberantly colored tent, their faces already showing signs of apprehension and nervousness.
As he approached, with slaughter in his mind, Argon was in the process of picking the sorriest person from the crowd to bully and eventually kill, but as he passed several people, he heard whisperings about trouble. These remarks were not directed at him, though that would have made sense. No, most everyone was looking off towards the tent in question. A lone Amnish guard was stationed at the entrance flaps, and he too was rather anxious looking, glancing behind into the darkness every now and then, his fingers tightening on his weapon.
His curiosity sparked somewhat, Argon stepped up behind a woman who was standing on the sidelines.
"What's going down?" The woman in question flinched from hearing such a dark and formidable voice right behind her, and stole a fearful glimpse over her shoulder. What greeted her were two black eyes piercing back at her.
"Didn't you hear," she finally found her voice, answering, "There's been some trouble at the circus. They've closed it down, they have. I don't know what the problem is, though me husband still be in there. No doubt makin' eyes with some cheap floozy…" Argon knew this woman was but an outside observer, and thus attempting to obtain any further useful information from her would have been pointless. He left her to her grumblings about the morality of her husband, and he stepped up through the crowd.
The guard was tensely glancing about, standing on his tip toes and craning his neck, as if expecting someone. What he saw instead was an enormous armored giant pushing the crowd aside, approaching. As he drew near, the guard stood a little higher, snapping his feet together, and raising his weapon up.
"Hold," he announced, lifting a staying hand, "This tent has been closed off for your own safety, citizen! The circus is closed until this matter is resolved." Argon stood right in front of him, easily a span and a half taller. He grinned down at the guard, whose level of discomfort rapidly increased.
"And what matter is that?" he inquired, his shark smile making the guard quiver. But still he answered.
"We are not exactly sure. There was no problem until a show was scheduled earlier this morning. Apparently, the show began well enough…and then something occurred. Nobody has come out of the tent who went in for the show…and everyone we have sent in to investigate has not come out either. Foul magic is, no doubt, involved here. We are waiting for the Cowled Wizards to arrive. They will be able to solve this. I am sure."
The whole situation sounded a bit peculiar, and to Argon, that was something that always tickled his fancy. In traveling about, he had always liked to see things that were not common place, as strangeness and oddities was almost in his very nature. So naturally, they called to him, and he certainly wasn't about to walk away. He may have wanted to start a massive amount of carnage so much so that he could taste the blood, but this seemed more intriguing. He could mass murder people anytime. This however, was something rare.
"Sounds interesting. I think I'll take a look…" and he started past. The guard on the other hand, chose that moment to become rather obstinate.
"I'm sorry citizen, but I'll not add you to my list of problems. We've lost a whole garrison squad in this tent, and I doubt you will do any better…" With a casual grab, Argon seized the collar of the ring mail this solider was wearing, and hoisted him up to eye level.
"I wasn't asking." And not so much as with a second glance, hurled the guard aside, sending his sailing across the promenade to crash into yet another tent. With that annoyance out of his way, Argon pulled the canvas flap back, and stepped into the darkness.
Inside, things grew quite dim, with the barest of radiances reaching Argon's eyes. It took a moment for his vision to readjust to the gloom, but once they did, he started taking in the sights. It looked as if he was now standing inside a cave of almost incomprehensible size, making the whole concept rather bizarre. After all, he had just entered a modest sized tent, and it led to a place that could never have fit inside such a tent, and probably, inside the entire promenade either.
Dominating this Tent of Holding, was a gargantuan rounded dome structure, a palace or citadel that made many castles and keeps Argon had seen before seem dwarfish. It was eloquent and lavish, having a tasteful sense of architecture, but at the same time, a shadow loomed over it, making its otherwise extravagant and unblemished features seem flawed and…well, just wrong somehow. This building was sitting on a rocky island, with a great chasm between. The only visible path connecting where Argon now stood and this eccentric place was a marble bridge.
It was Argon's experience that when one approaches an edifice of such incredible scope, and crossing a bridge to reach it, there more often then not, is what many refer to as…a bridgekeeper. Someone or something that guards the entryway, and doesn't allow just anyone to cross, and waltz right into the place. This was no exception. He had taken but two steps, when with a flare and swirl of dimensional power, a Dao Jinn appeared before him.
"Aha!" it exclaimed in an elated tone, its voice thick with its peculiar accent, common among all the Dao. "I see a wayfarer has come to amuse Kalah! You must answer a riddle, naturally, ere I will allow you to pass this bridge. Are you ready to hear it?"
This sort of nonsense wasn't all that surprising. The Dao always liked to make games of things, not taking the straight forward path. They delighted in detours and roundabouts, making lesser beings dance for their amusement. Argon wasn't one to dance.
"A riddle huh? Sounds boring. I know…why don't you tell me who's in charge here, and then we see how long you can keep me in a peaceful frame of mind, lest I rip you in half otherwise."
"Kalah does not reveal himself to those who are not worthy. Are you ready to begin?"
"Maybe you didn't hear me, so I'll say it again. No riddles. And I assume this Kalah is the boss? And he's inside? Well, I'm itching to meet him, so why don't you jump off this bridge here, and save me the trouble of disemboweling you." At this, the Dao chuckled loudly, flashing a somewhat wild grin.
"Ha ha ha! You amuse me, little mortal. Bluster as you wish, I shall not allow you to pass until you have solved my puzzle." It would have been a simple matter with annihilating this pest, but Argon wanted to drag this fun out.
"You know what? It's your lucky day…For once, I think I'll try it your way…just to shake things up and see where it takes me. Fire away, genie man." Pleased that he could at last precede, the Dao bowed.
"Excellent. A princess is as old as the prince will be when the princess is twice as old as the prince was when the princess' age was half the sum of their present age. Which of he following then, could be true?" A moment of silence passed, nothing but breathing piercing the quiet. "Hmm," Argon mused aloud, "Don't know, don't care." The Dao gave a smirk, and waved a finger.
"You will get nowhere, my friend, if you do not make the attempt. Being as benevolent as the mighty Kalah, however, I will allow you another opportunity. Here it is, my friend: The poorest have it, the richest need it, but if either was to eat it, they would certainly perish. Tell me what it is!" Argon once more directed a nasty grin at the smirking genie.
"Please see previous answer." Striking a nerve at the insolent attitude, the Dao rose up, fire in its eyes.
"Fool! Can you not even guess? The answer is 'nothing'! If you eat nothing, you will perish, naturally. And perish you shall, because Kalah suffers no fools!" With a roar and shout, the Dao leapt forward, his fists glowing with cosmic energies.
Argon answered this charge with his own fist, flashing forward, and striking his foe with superhuman strength, unhinging the Dao's head, and causing it to stumble. Following this, Argon's sword came out, made a lightning fast incision across the throat of the stunned genie, before returning to its sheath.
As the planar creature began to dissolve into vapors, only to drift apart, Argon stepped past, crossing the bridge.
"Just so you know," he called back, though nothing could really hear him, "I knew both those answers." The primary entrance to this monolithic castle was a wide opening, an arch, which connected to a hallway, narrowing down as it went on. It was clear that whoever was in command of this place, this…Kalah, he was watching, for there was an unmistakable sense of being observed. The hallway emptied into another chamber, with pillars and winding staircases, and even little fountains here and there. In such a lovely setting, ugliness is out of place; hence the monster standing in the center of the path seemed rather odd.
It was tall, taller than Argon even, massive, stinky even, ugly, with a jutting low jaw, bald head, and grossly undersized garments and armor on it's huge frame. An ogre, a spiked club clenched in its hands, just standing there, looking passive. At the sound of his approach, this creature turned to the door, with an expression of unmistakable fear on its hideous face. Before Argon could mutilate this creature, and have a fun time doing so, it spoke to him.
"Who are you? Oh, whoever you are, you must flee this place at once! He…he's killed everyone else who has come into this place; almost. Oh, please run!" Strange words coming from the mouth of an ogre, sure enough, but the voice was horribly mismatched for the appearance. Instead of a horrendous grating of claws on stone, which was an ogre's normal voice, this was the soft gentle voice of a young lady, sounding both very much afraid and pleading. Argon put his lust for bloodbaths on hold, and stood still.
"Well," he said aloud, looking the creature with the lovely voice up and down, "Here's one for the record books, I'd say. Care to explain how a thing like you has a voice like that? Quite a neat trick."
"I…I'm not a monster!" came the stammering and frightened reply, "I'm an elf, a winged elf…or at least I was…This…this covering you see is some kind of illusion, but if you believe in it then it becomes real. P-please believe me! Now go before something happens to you, I beg of you!"
Leaving was currently the last thing on Argon's mind at the moment, and if the Dao guardian outside was any indication of how powerful the things in the place were, he wasn't exactly fearful for his personal safety. He wanted to see where this took him. Quite the little drama indeed.
"Illusions huh? I figured as much, and it goes far in explaining this place. The Dao outside was babbling about a…Kalah…I take it he's the freak behind the curtain here?" The illusionary ogre let off a most peculiar noise, a harsh gasping, but it soon became apparent that whoever was behind the illusion was sobbing.
"Oh, I don't know what he's done, exactly, or how…but everything here is an illusion! But it's magic that can hurt you, if you believe in it. You probably don't understand, do you? I…I don't know what he's done to the tent, or with the others who have come in, but their deaths are real! You must run!"
"No way, this sounds too interesting to take off now. Besides, I didn't really have anything else planned for today. Why not have a chat with me, and tell me the whole spiel. And don't worry about my safety…I'll…be fine."
"Oh, I hope you don't end up like…like the others! But alright…M-my name is Aerie. I…work in the circus with my uncle Quayle…I don't know exactly what happened, but everything changed a few days ago…everything became chaos and turned into what you see here. Although it all isn't real, it's an illusion…" She paused, and lifted her large brutish head upwards, scanning the ceiling, as if she expected to see a pair of eyes looking down on them. There being nothing overhead, she went on.
"The minions…they all say they serve Kalah, so I know he's behind all of this…he's an illusionist in the circus, but I don't understand how he was able to do all of this! He must be stopped! Before he hurts any more people! Please…if…if you release me from my chains, I can help you stop him!"
Argon sauntered into the room as he listened, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at this ogre illusion, or what have you. From what he could see, there were no chains. She noticed his questioning expression.
"The chains are invisible…covered by the illusion. And…and they are magical…they prevent me from casting my own spells. And they maintain the illusion which is placed on me…You…you need the key. But…but it won't look like a key! There are a couple of commoners…across this chamber…Don't be fooled by the illusion, though…they are monsters! They have a sword which is actually my key…if you can get it from them, I can removed the chain and regain my normal form!"
Looking across the chamber, Argon could make out a faint silhouette of a couple of figures. He wasn't entirely sure of how much of this he believed, but as he himself had said…he didn't have anything better to do. Might as well go with the flow. He eyed the ogre again. This was followed by a shrug.
"Sure, why not? I'll get the sword."
"But please," Aerie implored, "please be careful! You…you can't trust anything you see, here!" He only waved a dismissing hand in return.
"Okay, but I seem to have this crazy hunch that I'll be fine."
He left her behind, and strolled across this room, following a path-like walkway. As he went along, he passed by a giant spider that was sobbing, and a grizzly bear that was belching. Weirder and weirder, he commented to himself with a grin, just the way I like it. At the other end, behind a column, sat two normal looking people, a man and a woman. They were doing nothing else, merely sitting, unmoving, unflinching, though they did watch his approach.
Argon didn't even speak to them. He walked right up to the first, the man, and stabbed him right in the head, no questions asked. The expression and sound it made were delightful, a hoarse squalling, as it shrieked, letting out its last breath. The second only had enough time to rise up to its feet, and lift its fists, before its head was sliced off, rolling to the floor, the stump of a neck shooting a river of blood everywhere, there being even a splurting sound..
The moment they expired, the illusions over them evaporated, revealing heavy ugly brutes, like orcs. One was grasping the hilt of a sword, a curvy almost ridiculous type of blade, one that could never be properly wielded in combat. Most likely it was a decoration, or perhaps even…a key.
Relieving the corpse of it, Argon went back to where the ogre was waiting. If his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, then he'd have to say that it was fidgeting nervously. That was something he'd never seen before. An ogre fidgeting. At his return, seeing him grasping the impractical sword, the ogre gave a most foul smile, its expression lightening.
"You…you have the key! Or rather…the sword! Please…please give it to me and I can be rid of this illusionary form at last!" To most anyone, the request of handing over any sort of weapon to a giant ogre, even though its voice was rather sweet and innocent, probably wasn't a wise idea. But Argon was too curious to be cautious, wondering what was true, and what was fake. In a world of illusions, that always is the ultimate question. And besides that, he wasn't too worried about being able to handle any trouble that came his way.
Without even answering he offered the sword. The beast took it, and almost at once, there was a violent jolt in the monster, as its skin began to dissolve, becoming wisps of mist, vanishing. It did not take long for this haze to disperse, and standing where the massive colossal creature had been standing only moments before, was now occupied by another figure, one far shorter, one far thinner, and one far more beautiful.
A young elven girl, with lovely blonde hair ran down her thin shoulders. Two eyes, a light crystal blue, and with the inquisitiveness and cautiousness of a rabbit. Her features, as was common with elves, male or female, were perfect, as if crafted by a master sculptor, high cheek bones, cute little nose, lush exquisite lips, and a sweet heartwarming smile. She was wearing a robe of a bright yellow color, with a sash of orange, and though the dress was bulky somewhat, her jaw dropping figure was still visible, being most pleasing for the eyes.
She was staring down at herself in wonderment, running a hand across her thin arm.
"My…my hands…" she stammered, but with a joyful tone, and almost tears in her striking eyes, "My skin...it's real again! Thank Baervar! Oh," she looked around, and saw Argon watching her, he having a rueful smile on his face, examining her as well. He enjoyed watching her return to the flesh, for nice flesh it was. "We must find Quayle, and stop Kalah before he does any more harm!"
"Whoa now, little girl," he slowed her down, stepping up, towering over her slight frame, "Who's we? You stay here, and I'll go have a chat with this Kalah. It's a crime against the world for him to have turned someone so beautiful into something so unnatural." Despite the flattering comment, Aerie clasped her hands, and her eyes took on an almost irresistible, and no doubt rehearsed beseeching quality about them.
"Oh please," she pleaded, "You must let me come with you! I know a lot about this place, and I know magic too! Please, I want to help!" Argon wasn't going to argue further. He didn't like having people following him around, but a gorgeous woman? He'd have to be more insane than he already was to refuse. So, he figured he could make an exception.
"Alright, but if you want to tag along, then you listen to me. Just stay behind me, and keep your head down." Aerie nodded, then gestured to one of the many staircases leading upward.
"Kalah is at the top of this place, in a throne room. Quayle should be there too. Those stairs can get us there."
The two crossed the room, Argon pausing at the base of the stairwell, looking up. The steps stretched on quite a ways, they being hard to see in the shadows. He glanced behind at the girl, she looking frightened, but resolute in her course. As he was turning back to the front, his eyes caught something. It was white, long, and thin. So much so that it stood out, being a lively sort of white, in this otherwise drab environment.
Upon closer inspection, leaning against a wall, was a staff, as long as he was tall, quite thin, but very durable feeling. It looked almost as if it was constructed of bone itself, being very hard, but flexible. "Oh, now this is nice," he commented, Aerie peering around him, curious at what he found so practically fascinating, "I am so taking this with me. Okay, come on; let's go pay our respects to the man upstairs."
Climbing stairs is never fun, especially when they seem to stretch onwards into infinity. Argon, even in his heavy plate metal armor, his new toy slung over his shoulder, was fine though, having an inhuman level of endurance. He could have kept going all day. Aerie though, was struggling. She not only was climbing, but having to keep pace with this gargantuan man, whose stride was far longer than her own, and whose pace was phenomenally faster.
However, before she could collapse, the stairs came to an end with a single door. Argon looked back, at the girl who was huffing and wheezing, trying to compose herself. He grinned. "Too much?" She gave her head a shake, but couldn't answer. He shrugged, and pushed the door open. Before he even stuck his head inside, he caught the unmistakable smell of dog.
Poking his head in, he could see numerous shapes, great hulking shapes, clamping around across the finely decorated and sumptuous room. Werewolves, and a good number of them too, easily a dozen or more.
"Haven't seen these things in a while. This will be fun." Aerie wiggled in under him, to get a view.
"They aren't real," she whispered to him, "They are illusions. If you acknowledge them, then they can hurt you. But if you ignore them, then they are harmless. Maybe we could sneak by them…" Argon looked round, craning his neck down at her. His expression clearly stated, "What are you, crazy?" But what he said however, was different.
"Uh huh, that could work, but let me try it my way first, and see what happens…okay?" Aerie nodded.
"I…I guess. But what are you going to do?" Argon flashed her…the grin. The crazy, wild sinister one; the same one he always got whenever he was about to go completely ballistic.
"I'm going to get Kalah's attention. Whatever happens…don't move. Stay here, and don't get noticed." Leaving her, Argon pushed the door open, and as bold as day, strutted into the room. He then let loose a shrill whistle, getting every occupant of the room to turn his way.
"Alright boys, line up. Let's see what you illusions can do against…the real thing." The werewolves were silent, staring at him with their fierce yellow eyes, some snorting air through their nostrils, others growling softly. Aerie watched this insanity, now shaking, at how this man had simply gotten their attention without even trying to be stealthy. He was as good as dead.
With a group howl, and a deafening amount of snarling and barking, fifteen werewolves came charging towards him, their claws extended, mouths open, leaving trails of saliva behind, their teeth all but straining for a bite. Argon's motion was fluid and quick. Drawing his sword would have been the fastest way to solve this little problem, but he was eager to see his new weapon's limits. Whirling it over his head, he waited.
As they came into range, he swung the staff around him in an arc, there being cracks and crunches as the wolves' heads were smacked by the passing attack. The force of the blow sent many of them flying, sailing back the way they had come. This assault caught all but of three of them, these three now lunging inward, ready to fight in close quarters.
Argon may have been an expert swordsman now, but he had been raised on a quarterstaff, and he was an specialist with that long before he left Candlekeep. So holding three frenzied slashing monsters at bay was child's play. The staff was flashing like a white phantom, as he batted arms and teeth away, striking one in the gut, and then right on the neck, causing a snap.
The other group had by this time regained their feet, and had rushed once again. The way they charged, their tactics most likely would be to attempt to overbear him, dragging him to the floor, and attacking a prone target. These things being as supernaturally strong as they were, they could have very easily done that, had Argon let them. But he just wasn't in the mood to get mauled. He had better things to do.
Now, instead of fighting to defend, he began to fight to kill. One illusionary lycanthrope had already been dealt with, so fourteen was all that remained. His tactics got him to start retreating all around the room, the vicious and ferocious werewolves following. As one came into range, he would deliver a crushing blow to either its head of torso, followed by a fist on its chin or throat. With a gurgle and a splatter of illusionary blood, one by one, they fell.
In the ensuing chaos, the entire room was totaled, the carpets stained and torn, walls gouged, all furniture having been shattered and ground into dust. Finally, there were only two left in the room. Argon, looking none the worse for wear, and Aerie, who looked horrified at the most incredible display of fighting prowess, if not extreme violence, that she had ever bore witness too. It was just inexpressible.
"You're…you're alive…" she stammered, creeping out of the shadows, looking up at this armored mountain, "How…how did you manage to do that? There were so many of them…and you don't even have a scratch…" Argon examined himself.
"Yeah well, illusions aren't nearly as tough as the real things. Now that they're gone, let's go. Onward and upward." And off he went, leaving Aerie still considerably stunned. She quickly followed him. The room only had one visible exit, another set of stairs, this one winding upwards. The two began to climb, this one proving to be significantly shorter than the last. It emptied into a small rounded chamber. Inside which, were many numerous strange and outlandish sights.
Sitting in a throne smack in the middle of the room, was yet another grotesque form. Another ogre by the looks, but a different sort, wearing more elaborate dress and effects. An ogre mage. Surrounding this monstrosity, were three more werewolves, as well as along the entire wall of the place were shadows that were creeping along, circling about like vultures. Off in one corner, there was a green puddle of viscous slime, bubbling and quivering, as if it was alive.
As Aerie and Argon stepped inside, the door swung shut behind them, and the ogre stood off the throne, clapping his gloved hands, displaying a smile that could have made stone scream in revulsion.
"Well done, my friend! Truly, I doubted you would survive to meet me. Welcome to my realm. I regret that my hospitality will result in your deaths." Argon at once hated this person; no doubt this was the Kalah he had heard so much about. The ogre form was merely an illusion, much like Aerie, an attempt to overpersonify his so-called greatness. And it was that sort of attitude that this freak was conveying that really got under Argon's skin. The smug self-superiority over others, the nauseating self-assuredness of victory always made him pissed.
True enough, he usually put off that same manner himself, but at least he had perfectly good reason for doing so. He was after all, a near perfect instrument of violence and destruction, and just about everyone knew it. He resolved to kill this arrogant bastard at once. Kalah meanwhile, while still smirking conceitedly, whipped his head at the minions behind him.
"At them my shadows!" he barked with hilarity "If he be a fool; my other beasts shall strike him down. If not, the task will fall to you, my shades. The circus now truly begins!"
"Oh, shut up!" was all Argon said in return. His arm was already raised, holding the white staff like a javelin, ready to throw. Kalah's minions had already begun to steadily slither out to attack, but froze at this comment. Kalah himself saw this, and his hideous face turned into one of panic. He realized a few moments too late that he was as good as dead.
Argon didn't even bother to wind his arm up, and he simply hurled that staff straight for his target. Because the ogre form was so very large, it was next to impossible to miss. He didn't miss, the makeshift spear running straight through him, sticking half out of his chest, while the other half was protruding from his back.
"NOOOOOOO!" Kalah wailed in agony, as everything around everyone started to fade to blackness and mist. In but mere moments, the lights returned. The illusionary castle, masquerades, and creatures had all vanished. They were all now standing in a lively tent, with games, animals, and at least twenty startled and bewildered looking commoners. Argon still stood poised, after his throw, and turned his gaze around. Aerie was right behind him, her expression being the same as everyone else.
Where the puddle of goo have been, now stood a gnome, dressed in a purple waistcoat, complete with a long white beard, and spectacles. And where the ogre mage had been gloating, another gnome was lying on the ground, a basic wood quarterstaff still protruding from him midsection. Argon straightened, and advanced. Kalah was rapidly fading, but still alive enough to writhe for a few moments, coughing up blood, as well as his last words in a croaking groaning voice.
"This wasn't what was supposed to happen! This wasn't what was promised to me!" His wild watery eyes, also filling up with blood swiveled upward, meeting the cold and yet elated black stare aimed down at his corpse-to-be. "I have…planned this for too long…only to have my plans shattered by some inbred northern adventurer! I…I just wanted to be respected." After another mouthful of blood splashed past his lips, he directed a wrathfully pitiful glare towards Argon. "You've…you've killed me…destroyed Kalah with you misplaced morals and your beastly greed for adventure…" Argon knelt beside the rapidly dying gnome.
"What? Are you waiting for me to say I'm sorry? Really, I should make sure you don't die now, just so I could kill you again. You asked for this when you started this trouble, and now you whine. What did you expect? You blame me for your own inferiority…I was merely doing what I do best. I hope you enjoy Hell maggot."
"You don't understand, do you? You take my life, but worse, you take my dignity. I just wanted…I wanted to be the king instead of…instead of…" As his words trailed off, he let loose one or two more gurgles, and let out one final breath, before he died. Argon rose, and gave the fallen gnome a strong kick on the side of the head, shattering his neck.
"And taking your dignity made it all the more fun." Then, he turned his attention back to everyone else. Most of the people realizing that they had been freed, had made a mad dash for the tent exit, eager to get the hell out of there. Aerie had run over to Quayle, who was regaining his feet, looking a bit out of it.
"Uncle Quayle," she explained, her beautiful face beaming with happiness, "You're okay!"
"Yes my dear, I'm fine. I knew that Kalah would trip over his own feet eventually. I'm just thankful that he hated me enough to keep me alive and torture, rather than kill me outright like the others. But what in the world happened?" It was then that he noticed the immense shadow hovering over Aerie, and he looked up. He looked the Bhaalspawn right square in the eyes, remaining calm for a moment, but then, a sudden burst of alarm broke through, and he tried to jump to his feet, and pull Aerie away at the same time.
Argon had seen that look before, from those who recognized him. This gnome knew him, that was clear. But also, Argon knew this gnome too. He had met him back in Baldur's Gate, and had nearly killed the little fellow after getting on his wrong side by pestering him on the road. Judging from his reaction, he still harbored some ill feelings.
"Get back Aerie," he shouted, trying to pull her behind him. Aerie was startled and shocked at the sudden pulling and was somewhat alarmed by the fearful expression of her guardian.
"Uncle Quayle, what in the world is wrong?"
"Yes Uncle Quayle," Argon all but cooed, "What is wrong? Is that anyway to greet an old acquaintance? I see you remember our meeting. How long has it been?"
"Not long enough, you psychotic abomination! I don't know why you are here now, or what part you have played in this, but leave us alone! You were less than gracious with me last time, without reason! I'll not have you hurt Aerie now!" Aerie meanwhile, was still reeling.
"But Uncle Quayle, he's the one who saved us all! He beat Kalah, and released me from my illusionary chains. If it hadn't been for him, we'd still be under the spell." Quayle turned a distrusting glare at Argon, his angry face not softening in the slightest. Argon was toying with the idea of killing the gnome, finishing the job he started back at Baldur's Gate, but he didn't want to just now. Soon, but now wasn't the time.
"So…I guess I shouldn't wait around from a thank you, huh? Well then, I'll be on my way. Nice seeing your smiling face." He then gave Aerie a wink and a somewhat cheery smile, "See you around kid." And as cool as ice, he turned, and walked out of the circus tent.
Outside, everyone that had been trapped inside were being smothered by their worried loved ones, while others were receiving tongue-lashings. Argon wondered what the best way would be to kill them. A voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Wait! Please wait!" Looking around, Aerie came rushing up to him. "I'm very sorry about Quayle, but he's been through a lot. Did you really know him from somewhere else?"
"You could say that…a passing acquaintance really."
"Oh. I…I just wanted to thank you myself. Without you, we most likely would have died. I'm in your debt." He waved it off.
"It wasn't anything special, believe me. I do things like that all the time. Comes with the territory."
"Well, I hope I'll see you again. Quayle has asked me to run across town to deliver a message for him. Please, feel free to drop by the circus anytime." He nodded. "Maybe I will." And with that, Aerie went dashing off, heading for one of the promenade exits. With that matter concluded, Argon still hadn't satisfied himself yet. His desire for pain and suffering had been postponed to save the circus. But then…it came to him, in a stroke of genius.
He lifted his hands to his mouth, and called out, "Attention all!" Many, many people nearby heard him, and gathered round. "The situation in the circus has been resolved. You are free to come and go at your own leisure. And to apologize, the manager has informed me that all games and attractions will be free for the remainder of the day, as well as each couple that goes in shall receive ten gold coins as a token of our regret! Please enjoy!" At this announcement, a whole stampede of people went rushing towards the tent, in frenzied excitement. A number of these people had only just stepped out moments ago.
"Morons." Over forty people responded, more than enough. When the last entered, Argon meandered over, shut the flaps, and tied them into knots. Nearby were several torches hanging from poles, circling around the area. Snapping one of these poles was easy enough, and he hurled the flame atop the circus tent. It caught at once, spreading wickedly fast. In mere moments, the whole roof was on fire.
On cue, the people inside began screaming in terror, as the prospect of being burned alive was scary indeed, and tried to rush for the exit, only to find it shut tight. Argon watched as it slowly burned, but soon grew bored. The wailing shrieks were enjoyable, and the thoughts of mountains of charred corpses afterwards warmed his heart, but what he really wanted was some blood. Argon turned away, leaving the trapped populous to their fiery end, and went searching for fresh blood.