“So, are we coming up on this Prince Pursuit thing I’ve heard so much about?” asked May. She swung her battle axe through the horde of cultists. They crumbled easily under her paladin’s attacks, and she cast another taunt to draw the remaining cultists’ attention from the rest of her party.

“Yeah, this should be the last room before the Prince Pursuit,” said Josh. “Keep the Curse of Flame active,” he said to one of their guildmates. “Pull back to this doorway so Byron can cast a fireball.”

Josh was raid leader for the Brass Talons. Today, he directed twenty of his guildmates through a secret dungeon below the palace of Ozamark to start the Cultist King questline. The entire questline would take months, but today they aimed only to trigger the prince’s flight and kill the archdemon under the palace.

“Which of us is going to chase him?” asked Byron, “My move speed is at +8%, so I think I have the best chance.” He cast his fireball at the center of the writhing mass of cultists.

May withstood the area damage of Byron’s fireball with ease. “Doesn’t matter. The Prince is always slightly faster than whoever is chasing him. You can’t actually catch him, it’s just fun to see how close you can get.”

“Someone’s done her homework,” said Josh.

“I wanted to know what we were getting into,” said May. “This is one of the longest quest lines in Origins Online, and I can’t go skipping band practice for eight hour raids, Josh.”

Josh laughed. “I stand you guys up one time and I don’t hear the end of it, huh? Byron, come closer so you’re within range of my Repulsive Aura. May, can you Challenging Shout the stragglers back to you? Perfect, thanks.”

“Ha ha, May yelled at you,” said Byron. He cast a spell, and clouds of putrid green light billowed towards the cultists who had swarmed May. Their morale dropped to zero and they began to flee, becoming easy pickings for the guild party.

“Alright Brass Talons, good work,” said Josh once the room was clear. “Let’s take five. Use the bathroom, grab a drink, and get ready for the raid boss after the Pursuit.”

The guildmates began to chat and mill about, exchanging items, healing, and reactivating long term buffs. The Brass Talons were a small guild, but respected. Josh strived to foster a sense of family. When he had invited May to play with them last year, she had appreciated the camaraderie of the group.

“One thing about the Prince I meant to check was whether you can debuff him. Byron, can you immobilize or slow him?” asked May.

“I looked into it. Technically you can slow him, but his speed is always an integer value greater than his closest pursuer’s. Immobilization has something like a 0.002% chance and it only works for an instant. A couple of people have managed it, and he has such a head start it never matters.”

“Try it anyways. Josh, can you give me that speed buff thing you do? I want to chase him,” said May.

“Inspiring Word. If there are no objections, sure.”

The rest of the guild wasn’t interested in chasing a forgone conclusion. “Go for glory, girl,” said Byron.

“Hey Josh, can I lead the next raid?” asked May, limiting her voice so only he could hear.

“You think you’re ready?” Josh asked.

May wasn’t sure how to answer. She felt ready on paper. She knew most of the strengths and weaknesses of her guildmates, knew how to research strats for particular raids, and had developed good situational awareness in the chaotic melees. But her fear of failure showed her visions of embarrassment and disappointment.

“I’m ready,” she said finally. “Maybe a small raid first. Goblin Town?”

“Alright, we can talk later.” He raised his voice to address the group. “Brass Talons! We’re headed to Prince Pursuit, then onto the ritual chamber for the raid boss. Let’s go.”

They ran down the winding hallways. May and the other tanks acted as vanguard against a few minor attacks from cultists and lesser demons trying to block their path. At last, they arrived at a cavernous circular room. A pentagram of blood writhed on the flagstone floor like a knot of red worms. In the center stood the Prince of Ozamark, his royal regalia a sharp contrast to the demon skull he wore on his head. May eyed the archway on the opposite side of the room through which the Prince would flee.

“Foolish adventurers!” began the Prince, raising his arms dramatically. May and her guild were locked in place for the monologue.

“What are you guys doing after this?” asked Byron as the Prince detailed his evil schemes.

“Josh and I have band practice,” said May.

“Josh, you want to check out Ruby Ridge with me? Grind for a haunted diamond?” asked Byron.

“Josh. And I. Have band practice,” May said, daring Josh to skive off again.

“C’mon May, he’s just a bassist,” said Byron. “You’re the drummer, you’re the important one, right? Keeping the whole band playing together?” She could hear the mischief in his voice. Getting Josh worked up over the importance of bass was fish in a barrel.

“First of all, as the very soul of any band…“ Josh started.

“Band doesn’t sound right without a bass, the music lacks richness.” May cut Josh off before he could launch into a music theory lesson.

“Spoilsport,” Byron wrote to May via private message.

“Okay, he’s wrapping it up!” May refocused the group, trying on her leader voice. “Everyone get ready to throw those immobilizes. Josh, cue Inspiring Word.”

“Perhaps you will join me for dinner?” sneered the demonic Prince. “I promise the food is…to DIE for! Muahahaha!” At the conclusion of his speech, the Prince scurried through the opposite archway.

May took off the moment her character was released. Josh’s speed buff hit her, and the Prince’s speed increased as well. Then Byron cast Grip of the Damned, and spectral hands snagged the Prince’s ankles, holding him in place for a split second.

“Oh shit, I got him!” shouted Byron.

May closed the distance as the hands faded. The Prince began to run again.

“Hit him again!” she shouted.

A barrage of animations erupted around the Prince. No effect. He was pulling away.

A wet and bulging leather sack flew past May’s head and burst against the Prince’s back. A pale green paste stuck him to the floor.

She sprinted as fast as she could, seeing the green effect already fading. As she came upon the Prince, a button prompt appeared on her screen. “Grab.” She frantically clicked it over and over again.

The Prince disappeared in her grasp, vanishing between frames.

May stood there with her hand outstretched, still clutching the royal air. Her guild came up behind her.

“Holy shit May, I think you caught him,” said Byron. Others began to cheer and congratulate her.

“What happened? He just vanished,” said May.

“Probably just disappeared and went to the end. Come on everyone, we’ve got an archdemon to slay,” said Josh.

May accepted the congratulations and saved the last few minutes of footage to her computer. That’s some bragging rights for sure, she thought.

“Where’s the archdemon?” the guild was asking. “Or the cultists?”

The boss room was completely deserted. There were no minions or special effects, or any sign at all that something was supposed to happen here. Even the cultist decorations had disappeared.

“Uhh, guys? I’m seeing some weird shit on my other monitor,” said Byron.

“Care to elaborate?” asked Josh. A sense of foreboding had settled onto them.

“Apparently, soldiers just spawned in Ozamark. Thousands of them. They’re attacking everyone and everything in the city, guildhalls and player shops included.”

The city of Ozamark was one of the largest and most populated cities in Origins. It was a hub for merchants, quest giving NPCs, and hundreds of guildhalls, including the Brass Talons’.

There was a pregnant pause. Then everyone talked at once, asking questions and going AFK to look up information. May hurriedly scrolled through the strategy guide she had been reading on The Cultist King. What Byron had described sounded familiar.

The Cultist King was a quest so sprawling it could take more than a year to complete. The middle level raids were grindy and boring, and the end game rewards were considered lackluster. Therefore, the quest was rarely completed. Even their guild only had concrete plans to reach the middle levels.

“I know what’s happening,” she said, and the group fell silent. “This is the last quest of The Cultist King. We’re meant to chase the Prince through this entire quest line. Eventually we catch him in a fortress in the wastes, way up north. Turns out that completes his evil plan, which is that the King gets possessed and Ozamark turns enemy. Does anyone remember this? It’s only happened a few times, but Ozamark becomes inaccessible for a while and big groups of soldiers start marching out of the city and attacking everyone.”

A few people remembered, but far more had no idea what she was talking about.

May brought them up to speed. “Ozamark is hostile until the group that caught the Prince completes the questline. Everyone in the city gets booted out when the raid starts. All the guildhalls and shops become ‘boarded up’. But…I think we did something wrong.”

“Holy shit,” said Josh. “My quest log is telling me I need to ‘Slay the Prime Demonologist and dispel his evil once and for all.’ That’s end game content. We skipped, like, 70 levels’ worth of quests!”

“How did this happen?” someone asked.

“Who threw that green bag?” May asked. “I’ve never seen that before.”

“I did,” said Byron. “It’s an old key item from a hunting quest I never finished. I was supposed to use it on a bear or something? I don’t remember, the quest was patched out years ago. I just used the only immobilize I had left.”

“A key item, guaranteed to work because it had to,” said May. That item must have been ancient. The dev who designed it probably didn’t even work on Origins anymore when The Cultist King had been written. “What’s going on outside?”

Everyone compared information.

“The enemy soldiers that are supposed to march out are just killing players and NPCs inside the city.”

“People are saying there’s no end to the soldiers either, a new one respawns whenever one dies.”

“I’ve got a shop in the city!”

“Players keep respawning in Ozamark without gear and getting killed again instantly.”

“Jesus, the Blackhawk guild hall just got destroyed, along with a bunch of minor ones.”

There were cries of dismay. Building a guildhall was expensive, and tiny guilds saved up for months to afford the simplest one. It was their crowning achievement. The guildhall of the Brass Talons was small, but they loved it as their second home.

“Byron, you worked on MMOs before. Any insight?” asked Josh.

“I was only an assistant zone architect for Infernus, but I’m guessing the script that runs the event does a tally of how many soldiers leave the city. It shuts off spawning once it reaches a certain number. But they never leave if they’re fighting in the city itself…”

A infinite stream of soldiers. From the minion level foot soldiers to the elite boss level generals, they would never stop. Huge investments of player time and energy were being erased as shops and guildhalls burned to the ground.

May said, “We need to try and fix this.”

“What the hell are we supposed to do about it?” asked Byron.

“I have an idea. The whole questline is about the King being possessed, right? At this point in the quest, we normally can’t even enter the city, let alone the palace. We’re supposed to kill the demonologist somewhere on the astral plane. But we’re here, in the palace dungeon. The king is right upstairs. Why don’t we go see if we can kill him?”

“There’s almost no chance we could take him down,” said Josh. But something in his voice sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“There’s almost no chance of catching the Prince either, but we did that,” said May.

After some deliberation, the Brass Talons decided, “Fuck it.” They would go to the king’s throne room and see if they could put a stop to this madness.

They made their way back to the secret entrance of the cultist dungeon. The lack of cultists, demons, or enemies of any kind only heightened their apprehension.

A terrible change had taken over the castle itself. Bloody diagrams coated every wall, and they found dismembered corpses nailed to wooden chairs or bound together with planks of wood.

“Oh, this is so gross,” someone said. Several players averted their eyes from the excess.

“Yeah, this is pretty over the line for Origins. I think this part of the quest was cut,” said Byron.

They found a handful of other players who had been working on quests that started or ended in the palace. They were confused at the sudden change of décor and the disappearance of their NPCs. Josh invited them to join their group, citing that the Brass Talons needed all the help they could get. Their numbers grew to twenty-eight as the new recruits joined the formation.

“Alright everyone, we don’t know what we’re going to find in there. Likely nothing, but there’s a chance it’s going to be an end game raid boss. Just keep your cool and do your best, I’ll coordinate,” said Josh.

May admired Josh’s ability to ease the tension when it ramped up. He could point out that it was just a game and soothe their nerves, reminding them to enjoy themselves. It helped to reduce the panic clicking that sometimes beset them in tough fights.

The Brass Talons threw open the door to the throne room, May and the other tanks leading the charge. The room had once been a splendorous hall of regal authority. Now it was a carnal house of torture and violence. Pentagrams lined the walls, and struggling bodies hung suspended from chains. The throne of Ozamark, once ornate in its craftsmanship, now resembled a twisted torture device. Rusty metal barbs jagged out in every direction, some dripping with offal.

The king of Ozamark sat upon the seat of evil, looking exactly as he normally did. An old man with a salt and pepper beard, he had a face of wisdom and patience.

“At last my dark ritual is complete,” the king announced. His malevolent voice was at odds with his kindly character model. “Your precious Crystals of Light were all part of my plan, and now not even Magus Evelyn can save you.”

“What the hell is he talking about?” asked May.

“I think he’s referring to stuff that we haven’t done yet,” said Josh.

The king continued, “For your intolerance, you shall be rewarded with death!”

A hissing sound emitted from the king now, crackles of a microphone being handled.

“Marty, can you read that line again? You said ‘intolerance’ at the beginning.” The king spoke in a different nasally voice that also echoed off the walls.

“Shit, sorry. What’s the word?”

“It’s ‘insolence’. For your insolence you shall be—”

“Okay, I got it. Take two…For your insolence, you shall be rewarded with…death!”

The king stood and drew a glowing blue longsword. A trio of palace guards spawned at the base of the throne.

“Now you shall behold my true form!” The king raised the sword over his head. Black lightning arced from it in every direction, then abruptly stopped. The king was unchanged. Flanked by his guards, the king’s legs did not animate as he slid across the floor towards the front line of the Brass Talons.

“Brace yourselves everyone, this raid might be broke as shit,” said Byron.

Powers were activated, defenses raised, and the screeners among them stepped up to face the guards. The king looked like any ordinary enemy.

A warrior they had recruited advanced to meet him, shield raised and damage reduction powers active. The king swung his magic sword through the warrior, killing him instantly.

Josh, who had been right behind the tank buffing the group, fired a magic bolt just as the warrior went down. The king lunged towards Josh and brought him down with a single swipe.

“Shit,” Josh said.

Chaos reigned. Players scattered in every direction, either firing at or trying to run from the king. The king cornered another player and struck him down. A blast of damage caught the king in the back, and he turned toward the offending player and began pursuing him.

What can we do? thought May. The attacks against the king had done barely any damage. He was capable of one-shotting even the toughest of them. As the king closed in on another player, May cast a bolt of holy light at the boss, wanting to at least get her licks in. The king raised his sword over his head, but the instant the bolt hit, he turned on the spot and glided toward May.

“Byron, shoot the king when I say so!” She let the king get closer, firing her ranged attacks, until he was almost right on top of her. “Now!”

May winced as the king raised his magic sword, but Byron’s violet missile struck him before he could swing. The king stopped his attack instantly and turned toward Byron.

“His AI is fucked!” yelled May. “He only targets the last person that hit him. Alternate your attacks, ping pong him around the room!”

She began to call out names to fire on the king, just as he caught up to the last player to attack him.

This could work, she thought. It’ll take a long time, but this could work.

Josh’s voice returned. “Hey, I just respawned in Ozamark. Things are royally fucked down here. Soldiers are spawn camping the player resurrection spots. The guilds are staging a defense to protect the shops, but they’re not going to last long. I sent out a summons to the rest of the Talons and called in some favors to protect our guild hall, but it’s all just borrowed time.”

“We’ve got the king in an aggro loop, but not all of us have ranged attacks. It’s going to be a long time before he goes down,” May said while fighting off a palace guard.

“You do what you gotta do. You’re in charge now, May. I trust you.”

She beamed at that. Josh was one of the best raid leaders in the game. She could do this.

“Listen up, everyone. If we don’t take him down fast, we’re going to lose our guild hall and so will a lot of other people. I need you all to follow me on this. I have a plan, but it’s going to be tricky.”

She gathered everyone except the screeners in a tight circle in the center of the room. Byron was on her left. “Byron, the moment my hit lands, use a basic attack on him. BASIC ATTACK. Don’t use any powers. When Byron’s attack hits, the next person in the circle uses a basic attack, all the way around the circle. Here we go…”

As the king walked past her, she clicked her basic attack and swatted the king with her axe. The king turned on her and raised his sword in the air. She flinched away from the blow, hoping Byron wasn’t going to creatively interpret her instructions. But Byron’s basic attack landed, and the king stepped into the circle to target him. Before his sword could fall on Byron, the player to Byron’s left attacked and the king spun in place and raised his sword once more.

This pattern continued, each player standing in a circle around the king and hitting him for minor damage. The king rotated after each attack like a clock hand.

“Tick, tock, tick, tock, every, one, listen, up,” said May rhythmically. She counted the beats of the attacks out loud to keep everyone on time, though it wasn’t difficult…yet. “Tick, tock, tick, tock, we’re, not, getting, any, where, with, these, weak, hits. So, Byron, I, want, you, to, use, Poison, Lance, in, stead, of, basic, attack, tick, tock, tick, tock.”

“Doesn’t that screw up the timing?” asked Byron, keeping up his basic attacks.

“Not, if, you, attack, at, the, right, mo, ment.” She also had the Poison Lance power. To demonstrate, she cast it just before the player to her right landed their basic attack. The animation completed and she struck the king right on the mark, and for significantly more damage. Byron followed up with his own basic attack. The king continued his helpless rotation, the rhythm unbroken.

Byron got the idea and used May’s tick-tocking to tell when to attack. The timing was perfect. With only that minor change, they were doing much more damage than before.

May stretched away from her keyboard, groping for and finding her secret weapon.

Her verbal tick-tocking was replaced with a sharp wooden rap, keeping up just as perfect a rhythm. She had grabbed her drumsticks and began tapping in the cadence next to her microphone, her unerring skill allowing her to strike the appropriate attack keys as needed with the drumstick hits.

She did some beat math in her head. “Monique, I need you to use leaping cleave instead of basic attack. You know the timing of that attack better than me, think you can make sure it lands on rhythm?” May asked.

“I’m not sure, it’s sort of off-beat from what you’re tapping. It’s confusing. If I screw it up, someone’s going to get killed,” said Monique.

“Alright, not a problem. I’m going to change up the pattern everyone, but your beats are the same. Ready? Listen up…” the second-by-second drum beats changed into eighth-notes.

Ticktock, ticktock, ticktock, ticktock. No one’s timing broke down.

“I think I can hear where it will fit in, let me try,” said Monique.

“Yes! Listen to the beat, everyone listen and think about your attacks. Imagine where they fit into this, hear the moment of impact and fit it in with the person who attacked last.”

Monique’s character jumped in the air and her blow still landed perfectly in time.

“Excellent, Monique! If we want to make progress, we need to use our better attacks just like Byron and Monique are doing. We’ll take it slow. If you’re uncomfortable, ask me to help you figure out the timing, or just stick to a basic attack.”

Several of them needed help. May did her best to keep her own timing and work out theirs to keep everything together. It was an incredible mental strain, but her well-practiced hands carried some of the weight with their drumming.

A private message from Josh. “I wanted to let you know Brass Talon hall is still standing for now, but there’s big groups of soldiers heading toward the palace. I think they know you’re there. If you can’t take the king down soon…”

“We’ve got incoming everyone,” said May. “We’re going to need to drill this guy down. I’m about to step up the rhythm, to help you guys can use more complicated attacks. Just keep your cool and let the drumming guide you.”

Tickity tockity tickity tockity tickity tockity tickity tockity….

“Hey slow down, I can’t keep up with that!” One of the stragglers they had picked up began to panic.

“Just relax, and stick with that Deep Cut attack for now. I’m going to stress the beat when you should push the attack button, okay? Just listen...”

Tickity TOCKity tickity TOCKity tickity TOCKity…

The player got the idea and was able to contribute real damage. May felt a sense of pride when he began to mix up other attacks with perfect tempo.

They attacked the king like a well-oiled machine. She was reminded of vids she’d seen of smiths forging a katana, or rail workers hammering in a spike, standing in a circle and slamming down hammers in a sequence of total efficiency.

The king’s HP began dropping in earnest now. With no need to focus on tanking or healing, they were able to go full offense and punch way above their weight class.

“They’re here!” one of the screeners shouted. The doors to the throne room burst open and hundreds of soldiers poured in. There were so many their character models overlapped, making it look like a single hideous organism of arms and blades.

“Hold them back!” ordered May. “Just a little longer!”

The screeners did their job admirably, blasting the clumped soldiers with everything they had, wading into the pile and trying to hold back the flow like trees in an avalanche. But soon they were overcome.

“Don’t break, keep attacking,” said May, her hands a clattering blur on her keyboard. They had no choice now but to endure the attacks of the soldiers and hope they could finish off the king.

So close, she thought, we’re so close. Just a little more…only a sliver of health remained for the king. In the doorway, a huge armored knight on horseback appeared, orange energy swirling around his lance like a meteor entering the atmosphere. An elite boss general. He leveled his lance and charged.

“Drumroll! Give him everything you’ve got!” The players expended their strongest attacks on the king in a riot of colors, particle effects, and floating numbers.

The knight’s charge reached May, the lance connected with her…and passed right through. The king flipped up into the air and bounced like a ragdoll in his death animation, his limbs flopping in every direction. The death animation used for common bandits.

“We got him!” someone shouted. The soldiers all blinked out of existence. They were alone in the throne room.

May’s headset roared with a deafening blast of microphone garbled cheers. She included her own.

“May, I think you got the last hit in…” said Byron as the din died down.

“Yeah, maybe,” said May. “I’m proud of you all though, you did a great—” Her guildmates all dropped to a knee in front of her. Huh? May checked her character screen. A new inscription had been attached to her character’s name:

Her Royal Majesty

There were new powers available to select for her hotbar, and a tall golden crown had appeared in her inventory. She equipped it as fast as she could and sprinted to the empty throne. The demonic façade had been stripped from the room, returning it to its noble aesthetic.

It can’t get this good. I can’t be this lucky, she thought. But when she reached the throne, she was able to sit upon it. She looked out on her friends, crowned and all.

Her guild began chanting, “Hail Queen May! Hail Queen May!” It was overwhelming. She had led her first raid, a blind one at that, and had succeeded. She had received a unique item in the form of a crown, was being cheered by her guild, and for some reason was now Queen of Ozamark. She was glad they couldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes.

“This is fucking hilarious. There’s no way the mods will let you keep this,” said Byron.

“That may be true. But for now, BOW PEASANTS!” She selected a new power, Bow to Your Queen, and every player and NPC in the room was forced into a kneeling emote.

A private message from Josh. “The soldiers disappeared! Was that you? What happened?”

She returned, “I am Queen now. Don’t be late for band practice.”

She was sure the mods would take all of this away, but that was alright. Nothing could take away the fact that she had faced her fear, accomplished the impossible, and proven herself a worthy leader.