Chapter XXIII: Bongo vs. North

North immediately knocked Bongo’s dagger out of the way, the spikes on the club he wielded catching it underneath the pommel and forcing Bongo to move with the momentum or be disarmed. The Beastmaster rushed in as the Ranger parried his attack, his elbow smacking against Bongo’s jaw. Bongo reared back, but twirled as North moved in to bring his club against the side of his face, bringing his knife down in the same motion. North, however, met the blade with his club again, and the two locked there for a moment, weapons joined, and then both broke free at the same instant, leaping backwards away from the other.

The Beastmaster wasted no time in resuming his attack, swinging his club with bone-crunching velocity as he quickly closed the gap between himself and Bongo. The archer could scarcely believe the assault that he was under, the speed at which North wielded that strange club of his. It was all he could do to avoid the strikes directed at him, which seemed to be everywhere at once, completely preventing Bongo from doing anything but staying on the defensive. Ducking and pivoting, he avoided strike after strike, but North pressed on with no sign of slowing. Shooting his arms out and shoulders back, Bongo fell backwards, taking the impact of the ground on his spine willingly at exactly the moment North came forward, swinging. In the same motion, Bongo pressed his feet up into the Beastmaster’s gut, and with a mighty heave, hurled him head over heels towards the wall even as he rolled back, spinning as he did so to regain his vertical base.

The soles of North’s feet tapped against the wall of Onzozo, and his legs bunched in immediately, absorbing the impact and then catapulting him forward. Before Bongo could react, the tamer tackled him outright, shoving him to the ground and rolling to his feet, smashing his club down on the ground where the Ranger now lay prone. Reacting on sheer instinct, Bongo twisted out of the way, rocks splintering and filling the air with a haze of stone shards as he arched and rolled to avoid the rain of blows North attempted to crush him with. With a desperate arch, he brought his dagger forward, catching North’s club against the blade. North’s lips temporarily curled in dissatisfaction as his blow was blocked, but almost immediately the club came up and down again, hammering against Bongo’s weak defenses. He ground his teeth, madly trying to think up some sort of strategy to counter the insane speed the Beastmaster seemed to possess.

With all the speed he could muster, Bongo let one more shot echo off of his quickly-denting knife, then as the next one arched downwards, he darted to the side, leaping to his feet as North’s club again left an impact wound on the stone ground beneath them. In a flash, North was already turned around and swinging again, the air around his club whistling as it was cut by the speed of his motion. This time, acting with a plan formulated in the spur of the moment, Bongo lured North in, the club coming so close that he could feel the wind from its lightning-quick strikes slicing into his skin, and just before it made contact he deftly crouched at the knee, the beastmaster again striking the rock wall of the labyrinth. Lancing his hand outwards, Bongo took hold of a spray of stone debris knocked loose, and with skilled precision, flung the dust and rock directly into the eyes of his opponent.

North gave a surprised cry, clutching at his eyes as his vision was obscured, giving Bongo the perfect opportunity to strike. The Ranger did not take it. He was too taken aback at what he saw as soon as North had released his club.

The weapon hovered in mid-air, unaided, striking at the cave wall North had just hit. Twice, three times, and again, it attacked of its own accord as Bongo stared, open-mouthed. An instant later, North had recovered himself, and his hand snatched the weapon out of the air, anger showing through on his face for the first time. For Bongo, however, the reaction was entirely different, as he reversed the grip on his knife, a ferocious, macabre smile spreading across the Demyn’s face.

“I’ve got your number now!” he shouted, and came forward, knife flashing. North immediately raised his club in defense, but that was exactly what Bongo had been counting on. In the middle of his thrust, Bongo released his knife, never losing his forward momentum. Here was his gamble, which could mean everything if he was right.

He was. The club continued moving not to strike him, but the knife it had been raised in defense against. North realized what was happening, and fervently struggled to halt the flow of the weapon, but it carried his arm downwards and across, striking the discarded blade twice more in the span of time it took Bongo’s fist to connect directly with North’s now-unprotected face. Bongo’s follow-up knee struck the Beastmaster in his fur-padded gut, doubling him over even as his assailant grabbed hold of his arm, and, with a backwards drop, pulled North down face-first into the stone-and-dirt ground of the Labyrinth of Onzozo. Blood spurted forth from North’s nose as he hit, and in the moment of shock, the club he wielded went flying from his hand, skittering off into the darkness.

Bongo pulled the Elvaan man to his feet, but was surprised as, with quickness he had not counted on, North slammed an elbow into his cheek. He felt pain surge up his jaw as North wiped his nose, drawing his hand back and staring with fury at the blood now streaking the white fur he had garbed himself in. Immediately, he was back on the attack, coming forward with a wild swing which Bongo side-stepped, placing his hand on North’s shoulder as the man flung himself forward and grabbing hold of his arm, with intent to break it at the elbow. To his surprise, North pulled himself in, negating the pressure, and his foot found a target in Bongo’s knee, knocking him off balance. In the same fluid motion, an uppercut took Bongo under the chin, and he felt himself spit out blood. Staggering backwards, he managed to stop himself just as North threw a blistering-fast kick directly at his face. The Ranger’s hands grabbed it centimeters from where it would have made contact, and with a great heave, Bongo pulled North in and twisted his leg around, the force pulling the Beastmaster from his feet and slamming him side-and-shoulder first into the ground.

Before Bongo could even think about pressing his advantage, North’s legs were entrapping his, and he cried out as a push behind his ankle braced by the Elvaan’s leg in front of his shin sent him sprawling to the floor. Bongo turned, raising his arms in defense against anticipated attack, but North took the opportunity to dive off into the corner where his club had slid towards. Bongo scrambled forward, diving to cut the Beastmaster off, and landing on top of him with impact that drove the air from both their lungs. North gasped in breath, turning to face Bongo with rage in his eyes as he threw another punch that tagged the Ranger right across the check. He made a grab for his club, lying but a mere few feet away, but with force borne of anger, Bongo turned, recovering quickly, grabbing his foe by the hair and smashing his already injured face into the rock. With a shout of effort, he bodily hurled North to his feet as he himself rose, running across the cavern length and hurtling the Beastmaster into the wall. North, stunned, staggered backwards, and Bongo, like an angered Wivre, charged forward to finish it off.

In a flash, North’s foot spun around and caught Bongo directly across the face, and he could feel teeth loosen in his skull. Twinges of black crept along his vision as North, face a mess of blood from broken nose and a now-bleeding forehead, suddenly charged forward, his shoulder taking Bongo in the sternum with such momentum that the Elvaan actually flung him off of his feet and sent him sprawling over his head, to come crashing down on his back. Grabbing him by the green folds of the jerkin he wore, North hurled Bongo to his feet and tossed him bodily against the rock wall, coming forward with a brutal punch to finish his opponent off. Even with pain and dizziness wracking him now, Bongo felt distinct pleasure at the sound North’s fist made against the rock as he twisted his head out of the way, and the beastmaster splintered his knuckles against the stone.

Thus he could scarcely believe it when North’s other hand caught him directly in the gut. Doubled over, he gasped for air, but North allowed none of it. He brought the arm with his now-broken hand down across the back of Bongo’s neck, and then with great effort, tossed him contemptuously down across the ground. Bongo skidded to a stop, rocks scraping at his skin, gasping for air as North, wounds and all, calmly walked to the opposite side of the cavern to retrieve his club. Despite the blood flowing in a steady stream from his face, North’s lofty, dismissive face looked almost the same as it had when Bongo had first seen him, save for that there now clearly existed a smoldering anger burning behind his eyes. With all the concentration he could muster, Bongo tried to regain his balance and push himself up, hands fumbling for something to hold on to. As North nonchalantly bent down and picked his club back up, Bongo stumbled upon what he immediately recognized could be his one salvation.

“I warned you,” North said, voice raspy with the effects of swallowed blood and a broken nose, “if you’d given up without a fight I would’ve let you take your chances with the demons outside. It might have gone better for you.”

Two more steps, Bongo thought. Come two more steps, you lip-flapping son of a whore.

“I’m a vegetarian, personally,” North informed Bongo, taking a step forward as he raised his club over his head, “but I’m sure you’ll make a fine meal for my pets.”

North brought his club down, intending to smash Bongo’s skull, coming forward one final step as he did so.

Like a snake, Bongo struck. It happened so fast North barely had time to register what was happening before the Ranger had made his move, and by the time it was over, he stood frozen, hand gripped like a vise around his club, using all he had in him to keep it from moving as he stared into Bongo’s eyes.

Eyes which rested directly down the shaft of the arrow now scraping the skin on his throat.

In one incredible motion, Bongo, having come across his bow, had clapped it into place directly behind North’s head, the bowstring pulled back as far as he could hold it, an arrow nocked and ready. With the bow itself wrapped around his neck, if Bongo were to let go, he’d impale the Beastmaster through the throat with the release. For a tense instant, the two stared at each other, and as a bead of sweat formed on North’s brow, Bongo smiled a bloodied grin.

“Drop the club.” He whispered, then gathered up the blood in his mouth and spit it forcefully out the side to the ground, where it made a thick, dark red patch. “Drop it,” he repeated, “or all this fighting suddenly might tire me too much to hold my bow steady.”

The club dropped to the ground. It leaped back up, hitting the ground again, and then once more, but finally fell silent as its owner slowly raised his hands into the air.

“Very fancy weapon,” Bongo complimented, glowering at North. “Must make fighting pretty easy when your club does it for you.”

“You idiot.” North spat out contemptuously. “That club,” he continued, eyes narrowing, “is the least of my weapons.”

With an earth-shattering blow, Bongo was flung backwards. The string of his bow released, but his arrow had already been snapped in two, both pieces clattering harmlessly to the ground as the string stopped against the plated tail of the Mushussu which had been up until now observing the fight silently. Bongo, gasping, stared at the thing as it reared up behind North, pulling its stingered tail free from the ground even as the Beastmaster stepped aside, dropping down to one knee where the giant beetle he had come in with caught him, then warningly hissed towards the amazed Bongo.

“You never got it, did you?” North marveled, shaking his head. “Everything that just happened was purely for my amusement. This is my kingdom, these are my subjects, and in here, nothing happens unless I decree it to be so. You were just spectacle to keep myself entertained.”

Bongo’s eyes went wide and he felt for the first time a twinge of fear in his gut as the Mushussu, pulling back its stinger, advanced on him with clear intent. Panicking to keep his wits about him, he dodged a thrust from the tail, struggling to keep clear of the thing’s deadly claws as it swiped at him as well.

“The poison of a Mushussu doesn’t kill right away, you know,” North mocked from where he sat, guarded by his pet beetle, “once it stings you, it could take days, even weeks before you finally succumb to the pain and delirium it induces. Sure, I suppose its possible you could be healed, but,” Bongo cried out against the fire in his ribs as the tail struck him in the side, sending him reeling down to the ground where he barely managed to keep from striking his head on the rocks, the skin on his hands peeling as he halted himself with his palms. “that would entail me letting anyone hear your screams.”

The scorpion charged forward now, driving its stinger directly towards Bongo’s heart as North laughed in the background. Whether what happened next was instinct, subconscious planning, or pure luck, Bongo would never know.

With speed he did not believe he had left in him, Bongo drew out his second knife, the one he had kept hidden in case of an emergency, and sprung from where he had been lying even as the massive stinger of the scorpion drilled into the ground, sending debris scattering out like a tiny explosion. With its tail embedded in the stone even momentarily, Bongo, with a guttural cry wrapped his powerful arm around the neck of the creature and, with all his might, squeezed. It cried out, a high-pitched, whining squeal, and Bongo drew his knife against the edge of its massive protruding fangs as its natural venom dripped down out of them. North’s laughter halted abruptly as Bongo drove his poisoned dagger directly between the eyes of the Mushussu. It gave one final, piercing cry, and then like a puppet cut from its strings, crumpled to the ground in a heap. Bongo rounded on North, already roaring in anger, and with his eyes blazing, hurled his envenomed weapon directly at the Beastmaster’s face.

The beetle did not hesitate as it sprung forward, and the dagger sunk deep into its armored hide. Falling to the ground, it beat its wings in pain, eyes desperately searching for its master.

“Galahad!” North cried, his voice wraught with pain not borne from his injuries. The beetle weakly tried to rise, but could not respond to his cry. North, his face a black cloud of rage as tears of blood streamed down his face, whipped around to Bongo as he rose from beside his stricken pet. “I will KILL YOU for that!”

“I’ll dig the both of you matching graves!” Bongo roared, coming forward with a cry matched by North as the two of them hurtled towards one another, each intending to end the others life with his bare hands.

Bongo pulled back with a startled oath as a wall of flame erupted between them, the cavern suddenly alight with fire from nowhere. Bongo pulled his arm up as a shield as the inferno licked at his flesh, but just as suddenly as it had appeared; it vanished, leaving Bongo with only spots to blink from his eyes. Then, with a mighty roar, the source of the fire became clear.

Standing just behind North, garbed in a tightly-bound robe of alternating black and white, a curved and crooked staff glowing with peals of conjured energy grasped between the pale skin of her hands, a dark-haired woman had suddenly appeared, her face twisted in anger at the sight she saw. One woman in a cave was not what had Bongo worried, however. It was the fact that floating beside her, flames bubbling from his molten skin, was the demon god of fire, Ifrit.

“Thank you, November.” North said graciously, a fearsome smile spreading across his face as he looked directly at Bongo. “I trust this means you dealt with the others?”

“They were done before I ever even laid hands on them.” The woman replied in a deep voice twinged with the accent of Selbina. “One blast from Leviathan and they crumpled like dolls.” Bongo’s heart sank. In the midst of everything, he had held in the back of his mind the idea that at any moment, his friends might come in and turn the tide of battle. With a single sentence, this woman had crushed what little hope remained in him. He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh as he fought to raise his fists again, and at least go down fighting, at least plant one more good punch across this self-absorbed Beastmaster’s ridiculous grinning face before they took him down for good. Regretfully, he realized he was not going to have the chance to avenge his fallen comrades.

Bongo opened his eyes, focused and driven. In front of him, the Beastmaster and the Summoner stood poised and ready to obliterate him where he stood. Clenching his fists together, the Ranger called Demyn bunched the muscles in his legs, preparing for one final launch into combat.

The lightning blast which struck the woman from behind emitted a scream which echoed throughout the depths of the Labyrinth. The magical aura surrounding her body shook and pulsed as it absorbed the spell, dropping her forward to her knees. Before North could even around, the sound of a blade slicing through the air cut through the cave, and Ifrit, dispelled to nothing but a pale shadow as the one who summoned him had her concentration shattered, vanished completely as a gleaming great katana pierced through its body. The Beastmaster dove backwards, avoiding a cut that would have sliced him wide open, and snatched his club off of the ground with a startled expression, raising it defensively before him.

Glowering, eyes glowing with the energy surging through his body, Qwid emerged from the shadows with lightning still bursting forth from his palms. November hastily threw her palms up, and with a furious burst of energy from the ground, a pair of granite hands caught the blast of energy meant to cook her where she stood. With a roar, Titan emerged from the ground of the cave, and under the beckoning of the woman November, even as North pulled her to her feet, cast his arms out in a defensive shield around the duo.

“Leaving us for dead, after all we’ve been through,” Qwid hissed, the Red Mage’s magical energy still visibly surging around him, “that’s the first and only mistake you’ll live long enough to have made with me.”

“It was just insulting,” Hubby said without mirth, “and really? I’m in no mood.”

Bongo, realizing what was happening, felt his facial expression turn from disbelief to a terrifying grin as he bent his neck to one side, bones making an audible cracking sound as he did the same with his knuckles, leveling his gaze on North.

“Now then,” Bongo said intensely, “time for round two.”