Chapter XXII: What Lurks in Shadow

The caverns of Onzozo were still, save for the occasional drop of condensational water onto stagnant puddles gathered underneath ancient stalactites. There was not a sound, not a breath, nothing stirring whatsoever in the bleak stretches of darkness which tunneled below the earth. All was in silence, save for the thin echo of wind from outside billowing down those endless corridors, creating a sound like a deep, ever-lasting sigh emerging from the depths. It was into this blackened void that Bongo cast out his thoughts, seeking; searching for some sign of whatever it was that had its eyes on them.

Even in the apparent solitude of Onzozo, he could sense that he was surrounded. He could feel, through the great connection of all living things which Rangers were most in tune with, the creatures darting in and out of the caverns all around him. There were just too many of them though; they moved quickly, never letting him settle his focus to determine what was what, and were so numerous that it threatened to overload his senses. The only thing he could be absolutely certain of was that he felt no direct aggression towards his person, at least. They knew he was there, and they were watching him, but he could tell that they were not going to attack while he was on his guard. No, they were waiting for something, and it was that coordination, that restraint, that most alarmed Bongo.

Monsters did not act this way left to their own devices. It simply did not happen, and any Ranger would say the same. There was only one circumstance that precluded natural monster activity; the usual pack-like mentality and territorial violence. That condition always included, in every recorded instance, the presence of an outside force acting upon the will of the monster to make it deviate from normal behavior. Bongo knew what was happening, and redoubled his efforts to focus his thoughts, search out one life form in particular. Somewhere in the twisting maze that was Onzozo, there was a Beastmaster playing games with them, and the Hume had decided to change the rules.

He walked on alone, the mighty war bow he had used on so many battlefields strung and ready to fire at a moments notice. Dantrag and Luma had gone off to search one end of the caverns, Qwid and Hubby the other. Bongo, as the only one who might be able to sense what they were looking for without seeing it, had gone on alone. While Qwid could find his way around using magic, and Luma, as a Mithra, could see fairly well in the dark, Bongo had only his skills as a Ranger to guide him through the depths. Dantrag had objected to them splitting up, but it was the only way to ensure that one of them might find their tormentor. Leaving was not an option, especially now at night, when the demons would be patrolling in full force, but nor could they stay here under threat of being attacked while they slept. No, finding their invisible antagonist and ending his game was the only way this could reach an end. Feeling his way through the damp, slimy walls of the labyrinth, Bongo pressed onwards.

The monsters in Onzozo were keeping a very specific distance away from him, and he gave a growl of frustration as they continued circling as he moved forward. Whoever they were dealing with, he knew exactly how to throw a Ranger off of his trail, confusing his mental scan with quick movements and varied types of monsters, threatening to overload his mind with the information. Bongo grudgingly withdrew the scope of his search, keeping focused only on what was just in front of him. Immediately, he cursed himself for doing so, playing right into the hands of whoever was pulling the strings here. He was dealing with a professional, that fact was starkly clear.

Bongo was so momentarily caught up in his anger that he almost failed to notice when the monsters began closing in on him. Almost as if they somehow knew he had stopped seeking them out momentarily, suddenly a group of them were surging forward, several, from each direction. With a vile oath, Bongo nocked an arrow into his bow. This was it; the Beastmaster had made his move.


Caverns away, Qwid and Hubby slowly crept through the labyrinth, keeping close to the walls. The Tarutaru had conjured a small globe of light just above them, banishing the deep darkness into which they tread enough so that they could at least see in front of themselves. With only the pale orb as guidance, they had trekked downwards, past the roaming Cockatrice packs and crawling leeches, narrowly avoiding the notice of the Goblins which held sway over the Labyrinth, deeper and deeper down into the tunnels, to the area they now faced. It was a wide, open cavern, with the peculiar moss which grew in Onzozo giving off a haunting pale glow which covered the entire area. What was more than that, however, was that this part was plainly inhabited. There were no less than a dozen Torama patrolling the grounds, and they knew that there would be no sneaking by them.

“Damn,” Qwid swore under his breath, “he’s really done this well.”

“Who’s done what?” Hubby whispered, hand grasping at the hilt of his blade.

“Whoever is controlling these monsters,” Qwid said, drawing back a few steps from the mouth of the cavern they had discovered. “I don’t think we snuck by those monsters earlier, Hubby. I think they let us through. Now . . . “

“We’re trapped.” Hubby finished, grimly. His eyes narrowed; whoever was doing this either did not know what was happening in the outside world, or simply didn’t care. To cause this much strife for anyone still alive in these times was abominable, but for Hubby, it was one more distraction keeping him from beginning the search for his wife. That, above all else, was unforgiveable. “So we cut our way through.”

“I don’t like it, but we may not have – hold on a second.” Qwid turned around sharply, his slim rapier flashing out of the scabbard at his side. The black jewel embedded in the staff on his back pulsed as he summoned the magic inside of him, and Hubby twisted his head back to see what he was looking at, but only saw darkness staring back.

“What are you looking for?” Hubby asked silently, crouching down into a stance prepared for an attack.

Qwid said nothing, but only gestured forward, into the dark caverns surrounding them. Neither spoke a word, looking only onwards, knowing that whatever monsters they had passed by on their way to this point could now be charging at them from behind. The Hume and the Tarutaru both stood at the ready as from down the corridor, they began to hear a deep, heavy breathing, a perpetual growl that echoed all around them. It was low and angry, growing slowly closer, and both began to perspire under the pressure of anticipation. They all knew the stories about the killer Manticore lurking in the depths of Onzozo.

It took Hubby a moment to realize he was not, in fact, sweating. Water was forming around him.

“That’s not – “ Qwid began to shout, but it was too late.

A jet of water shot out from the darkness, striking Qwid like a hammer. The Tarutaru was flung fully off of his feet, slamming into the wall of the cavern as the pressure burst hammered into him. Hubby tore his great katana free of his scabbard, charging forward into the darkness as his chi roared into his body, but was met by a forceful slap which struck him from chest to cheek, sending him sprawling down across the floor. He struggled to rise, but another blast of water drove into him, and he collided against the rocks with great force, darkness swirling in on the edges of his vision.

As he started to black out, the serpentine form of Leviathan, the water diety, drifted over his body, and standing just behind him, he could make out the form of a robed woman maliciously grinning.


“Did you hear that?” Dantrag whispered to Luma, who was crouched down low behind a rock as she surveyed the roaming Sea Monks wandering the depths of Onzozo. Her ears twitched and she turned back, motioning for silence, a single fang biting down over her lower lip. The Sea Monks in front of them drifted about, seemingly oblivious to their presence, but Dantrag was no longer concerned with them. Somewhere, distantly, he had just heard what sounded like a cry for help.

“No, Luma, I just heard – “

“Silence!” Luma cautioned, not turning to face him, but gesturing with a clawed hand. There was something in her harsh, hushed tone that made Dantrag realize she was warning him for a reason. Slowly, Dantrag inched his way up the rock face, peering over to the other side. His breath caught in his throat at what he saw.

In the center of the other Sea Monks, dominating the room, he could clearly make out a kraken so enormous it may have well been three times the size of the others. It was enormous to behold, and its eight tentacles seemed like tree trunks scraping the ground as it drifted over the damp ground beneath it. The other creatures moved carefully around it, almost deferentially. The massive kraken appeared disinterested in the others around it, though they were obviously quite aware of the larger one, and moved in accordance to wherever it was going. It was clear that amongst the beasts of Onzozo, this monstrosity was their lord.

Dantrag slid down the rock face in amazement, looking with wide eyes up at Luma, who continued examining the creature fiercely. Dantrag could see her hand grasping for the hilt of her blade, and for a moment, it seemed like the best move to make would be flight. However, the way they had come led only back through an encampment of Goblins which called the Labyrinth home. They were backed into a corner; there was no way out of this one without fighting. The only choice they had was if they wanted to attempt to take on an entire cavern full of beastmen, or launch into an attack against a family of Sea Monks, including the colossal one commanding them. Dantrag ground his teeth together as he pulled an axe free from his belt.

“A trap,” Luma suddenly said under her breath, “fell right into it, we did. Not good.”

“What?” Dantrag whispered back up at her.

“Lured here. We were lured, and we took the bait.” The Mithra seemed more than a little agitated at their current situation, and Dantrag felt nervousness creep up in his stomach as he realized that she was right. “We’re right where they want us, and they’ve already got the others.” Her ears twitched, and Dantrag suddenly understood that she could hear as sharply as he could, maybe even better, and those cries from before had not gone unnoticed.

“Okay.” The Elvaan said, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. He focused, thinking of their situation, plotting out his solutions, analyzing which would be best. Beasts or Beastmen, someone pulling their strings, a pincer trap they had already fallen into. “Luma,” Dantrag muttered, casting his gaze up to where the Mithra was standing, still staring at the mutant creature, “you ready to fight?”

Luma’s lips curled back, revealing her glinting fangs. “Fight?” She asked. “I could fight. Which way should I aim my sword?”

“Let’s creep out of here and go pay those Goblins a visit. The only way out of a pincer attack is to fight right through the middle.”

Luma gave what resembled a grin as she slowly withdrew her great katana, peering back at the way they had come. “There were a lot of those nasty things,” she said, gripping her blade with both hands, “and only two of us.”

“Yeah,” Dantrag said, giving a cautionary look behind himself to make sure the Sea Monks hadn’t heard him, and then sliding back into the shadows, “I feel bad for them, too.”


The Manticore cried out as an arrow lodged deep inside of its chest, and then fell to the ground, raggedly gasping as Bongo, eyes blazing, drew forth another arrow. Ignoring the pain in his shoulders, the weariness in his bow arm, the burning of the tears down his back the beast had made when it clawed at him before it died, he swung his bow around and let another volley fly. A cockatrice behind him took one in the side, and gave a screech as it retreated, wounded. There was another beside it, and it gave an angry cry as it came forward, charging towards Bongo with a primal shriek. The Ranger easily side-stepped the beast, a flash of light glinting as the steel of his dagger flew into his hand. With a fierce strike, he slashed open the side of the monster, even as he ran forward, away from the now-wounded beast.

It rounded on him, blood in its eyes, but then gave way to a choked gurgle as an arrow took it full in the throat. The cockatrice wavered for a moment, and then toppled over, dead. Blood pooled at the ground at Bongo’s feet, even as he pulled another arrow back. They were still all around him, but there, just outside of his range of vision, lurking in the shadows . . .

“You got too close!” the Ranger shouted as he let an arrow fly. It sang as it flew into the darkness, towards the target Bongo could sense, but not see. For just a moment, he had finally felt a human presence, and knew instantly that his quarry was near. Had it been one of the others, he would have recognized the unique feel their energy gave off, but this was different. Someone he didn’t know, someone standing with the beasts without fear of attack. This was the Beastmaster he had been looking for, and one slip-up was all it took. With an echoing thud, Bongo heard his arrow take root.

His smile quickly faded as he heard the sound of skittering across the granite floors, and into the narrow range of his vision, which had by now become adjusted to the dark, a towering scorpion came into view. Just in front of it, a beetle, wings flared, came down to the ground, an arrow caught between its powerful jaws. With a deliberate demonstration, it bit the projectile in half, letting it clatter harmlessly to the ground. The scorpion, a Mushussu, came in closer, fangs dripping venom as its tail arched backwards dangerously, the stinger on the end as big as Bongo’s forearm. The Ranger drew another arrow, eyes narrowing as he sneered at the creature.

“Good catch, Galahad.” Came a voice, startling Bongo momentarily. The scorpion halted, and the beetle remained in front of it, menacingly leering at the ranger in front of it. Bongo did not lower his bow, though his arm cried out in warning against the strain he was putting on himself. The monsters around him, dead and wounded in four directions, gave testament to the number of arrows in his diminishing quiver he had let fly in the last few furious minutes. Bongo’s senses were screaming at him now that what he was looking for was right in front of him, but all he could see was the scorpion. It did take up most of the small tunnel entrance, but still, that should be no reason . . .

That’s when it hit him. The voice was coming from on top of the Mushussu.

There were two taps as leather-soled boots hit the ground, dropping off of the scorpions’ back. The man who came forward was dressed in a collection of varied animal furs and horns, and held a strange, curved club in one hand, blunt on one side, and jagged spikes jutting out of the other. His furs were strapped to him, his entire wardrobe crudely made and almost beastial in its appearance. Still, he carried himself with an undeniable air of power and confidence, and by the way the beasts around him took a step back as he approached, it was no wonder. This was a Beastmaster, and he was in the seat of his power.

“So you’re the outsiders trespassing on my territory.” His voice was low and guttural, sounding like a monster’s snarl as much as a human voice. He was Elvaan, that was immediately clear, but appeared stocky and tanned, with a slight shadow of unshaven beard growing on his squared jaw. Steely gray eyes looked Bongo over, seemingly ignoring the arrow pointed at his head. With a scoff, the Beastmaster folded his arms, the club touching just over his shoulder. “You don’t seem like anything special to me. How did you defeat so many of my pets?”

“Why are you doing this?” Bongo demanded of the stranger, his words an angered growl. “We only came in here to escape the demons. There was no need for this.”

“You shouldn’t have disturbed my pets.” The Beastmaster replied, a glower settling in on his expression. “I don’t care what’s going on outside, this is my home, these creatures are under my protection. You threatened them, I responded it kind.”

“You’re out of your mind.” Bongo growled, drawing back his bowstring.

“No,” the man said, taking a defiant step forward, “I’m one of the only sane things left in this world. You’re crazy to think you’re going to beat me.”

“On the field of battle, they call me Demyn.” Bongo told the man, ignoring the muscles aching for release in his arms, using all his strength to keep his bow from shaking. “It’s a name I have earned.”

“Well they just call me North,” the man said, “and maybe you haven’t noticed, but demons haven’t posed any threat to me.” With a flourish, he brought his club forward in an offensive posture, legs suddenly braced for the attack. “Don’t throw your life away. Give up now and I’ll make this easy.”

“Exactly what I was thinking!” Bongo cried as he loosed his arrow. North sprung forward at the same moment, and the club and arrow collided in the air even as Bongo pulled his knife free and ran towards the Beastmaster. With a clash that sent a shower of sparks into the air, North’s club struck the arrow right out of the air, and his momentum carried him directly towards Bongo's flashing dagger.