“The primary measure of a guild in NEMO is their ability to weather the constant base raids. If you could win, your guild would rise. If you lose, your guild is destined for collapse and absorption. The increase in difficulty forced you to adapt or die.”

  From “The Crucible of Guilds”

  Year 1, Month 2, Day 2, 06:05

  Brilliant portals flared to life around the Risk of Injury guild keep, disgorging thousands of orcs. Orderly blocks of orcish spearmen with shields advanced on the walls under the cover and support of ranged skirmishers.

  Allestor shouted, “They’re level 3!” Ragged cheers went up from the players manning the walls that won the betting pool mixed with scattered with boos from the losers.

  Ovarrix passed the word to all the crews manning the siege weapons, “Fire at Will.”

  Beams of magical energy, enormous bolts and heavy stones tore through the air and crashed into the approaching orc lines. The tightly packed ranks of orc spearmen shattered under the onslaught. Spears, shields and bodies alike were flung about like toys suffering from a child’s tantrum.

  The orcish host continued advancing despite the heavy losses. Withering fire from crossbows and long bows assailed the lines. The enemy advance melted away, buoying the defenders.

  The second wave followed closely on the heels of the first. The mana cannons on the walls cycled their fire, ripping holes in the neat lines.

  Mark laughed, “Their banners are the perfect aiming point. There’s a reason that organized lines of troops disappeared with explosive shells.”

  Ovarrix watched the orcs closely. Survivors from the first wave organized hasty defenses at the midway point between their spawning portal and the walls of the base. The second group reached it and added more shields. His eyes widened as the orcs began assembling field artillery of their own. Small ballistae and catapults took shape under the cover of tower shields and mantlets.

  The newly created defenses kept the attacks of the non-siege weaponry at bay, giving the orcs a chance to catch their breath and organize. Counter-battery fire began sweeping the walls of the keep, making the defenders duck down and reducing their effectiveness.

  The third wave sprang into existence. Each of the four newly spawned armies of 5,000 orcs pushed siege towers forward, a dozen per army. Larger siege engines came with them, giant catapults that could range the keep from the portals. The defenders began taking losses, and the numbers of the orcs swelled.

  The defenders numbered slightly under 10,000 and their numbers shrank with every volley of fire from the orcish host. Ovarrix directed the guild’s heaviest weapons to concentrate on the large enemy siege weapons. Freed from the incoming heavy weapons fire, the lines of the attackers began to close in on the walls of the keep once more.

  Over 20,000 orc soldiers advanced under a shield wall, rapidly closing the distance to the keep. The siege towers moved alongside the lines. Spells and explosive weapons shot from the defenders, staggering the attackers and breaking their stride. Several siege towers caught fire or crumbled to the ground under the attention of the players fighting for their homes.

  The orcs crawled forward, closing mercilessly and bleeding for every step. The fourth wave spawned onto the field. An even hundred siege towers pulled by fifty ogres each, began their ponderous charge to the walls. Units of orcs sprinted towards the keep joining the front lines.

  A vicious round of incoming fire killed dozens of defenders at once. Large groups of players broke under the fire and pain, dropping down from walls to shelter among the buildings. Siege towers slammed home in the now clear section, disgorging dozens of heavily armored orc shock troops.

  Torgon cursed and rapidly fired arrows into the section to slow their advance. Allestor charged up the steps, leading a hand-picked force of the guild’s best melee attackers. They crashed into the orcs, driving them back. Bodies flew off the walls inside and outside the keep. Those orcs unlucky enough to land inside were finished off by the forces staged below.

  Allestor’s team reached the first siege tower and hacked the walkway down before lighting it on fire with mana grenades and spells. The orcs had taken control of one stairway and fought in the courtyard below. They tried to make it to the gates, but they were unable to advance far.

  Barkolemew blinked archers into position to fire behind the shields of the orcs breaking into the keep. Sir Boots leapt into their midst and laid into them with tooth and claw. Stasis was achieved, and the players that had broken regained their nerves. A round of respawns joined the fight and the battle shifted in favor of the defenders once more.

  The two sides fought over control of the western wall of the keep. Allestor cut down every foe in front of him, but the flood of bodies continued, slowing him to a crawl. Dusty moved beside him, protecting Allestor from the orcish attacks, freeing him to inflict maximum damage. The duo led the thrust towards the stairs while Sir Boots and dozens of children and faeries, lost in battle madness, recklessly hacked the forces at the base of the stairs.

  Mark’s siege engines suffered damage, but they began to win their long-range duel with the attacking weapons of war. He directed an increasing number of shots into the host of raiders packed too tightly to move by the walls. The slackening reinforcements gave a brief respite in the fierce wall fighting. The bridgehead of attackers barely held on.

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  The fifth and final wave emerged from the portals, thousands more orcs and ogres that promptly charged the keep. The ogres from the fourth wave ascended the walls, occupying the attention of the defenders and keeping the arrows from slowing the fresh troops down.

  A massive roar filled the air just before the portals winked out of existence. A giant of wrongness and evil took the field. It stood more than thirty feet high with five heads, eleven arms and seven legs. The skin of the giant shifted from greens and browns all the way towards a blackened crust that broke and opened, exposing raw oozing yellow-green flesh underneath. Droplets of sizzling brown blood left a smoking trail as the monstrosity whirled its way towards the keep.

  Torgon analyzed the foe, “Pandemonium Giant, Boss, Level 7, Health 100%.”

  The beast moved forwards in a rolling circular fashion. The asymmetrical horror hurled boulders with the momentum of its unique gait. Each stone exploded on impact in a shower of cutting shards and magical sickness. The madness of the beast was condensed into a roiling green mist that made players empty their stomachs when they breathed in too much of it. Orcs, immune to the effect, dispatched the helpless defenders with little effort.

  A wave of visceral despair broke across the defenders. Forces along the walls and inside the keep wavered between standing fast and fleeing for their lives. Ovarrix jumped down and ran at his best speed, letting his aura of leadership sweep over as many players as he could reach. The aura countered the effect of the pandemonium giant wherever it reached, bolstering the fortitude of the defenders.

  The mana cannons focused entirely on hitting clumps of troops while the few remaining single target siege engines aimed for bigger foes. Ovarrix ordered everyone to clean up the smaller foes before trying to take the boss down.

  Ivy appeared, clad in armor of wood and leaves, riding a timber wolf and leading the corgi knights. “We’ll delay the beast, open the gates and let us sally forth!”

  Ovarrix grabbed Mark’s attention, “Mark, clear the front of the gates with the mana cannons. We cannot let that thing get too close.”

  “On it,” Mark acknowledged. Fire from the mana cannons exploded in front of the gate, damaging it slightly. The siege teams walked the weapons fire out, creating a perimeter and letting the gate rise. Ivy waited to rush out, joined by every free defender. The gate opened and the group sallied forth.

  Ivy raced ahead with the corgi knights in a glorious charge. They leveled spears and lances with pennants streaming in the wind. Their charge buried their weapons deep in the legs of the pandemonium giant. They moved clockwise and maximized the impact against the giant’s widdershins movements. Another great roar echoed, this time in pain.

  The giant paused its forward moment but maintained its spinning. It tried to hurl rocks at the corgi riders but had difficulty with the small and fast-moving targets. Ivy led her knights in a wheeling cavalcade, peppering the beast with arrows from their bows. Torgon and the rest closed the distance and added their own ranged fire.

  The combat around the keep had turned decisively in favor of the defenders. They mopped up the orcs and ogres, and in small groups began to stream towards the battle with the giant. Mark ordered all the area of effect siege weapons put away and they used the single target weapons exclusively against the towering horror.

  Digger and his pet Streaker led a group of miners that hurriedly dug a pit near the boss. They laid boards atop it and he alerted Ivy via system message when they completed it. She gave a piercing whistle and led the corgi knights en masse across the covered pit.

  The enraged giant gave chase, crashing through the boards and becoming stuck in the pit. Children with spider pets closed in, webbing crashing down on the giant as it thrashed with all eleven of its arms and rolled around futilely. The webbing thickened, pinning the giant in place as it suffered increasing missile fire.

  Teams of players using twenty-foot-long wooden pikes ran to stab into the beast. Plaintive wails of pain, anger and frustration came from the giant as its momentum was completely arrested. Its tortured shape collapsed in on itself without the force generated by its spinning.

  The monster was surrounded, trapped, and its health bar plummeted. Arrows, spells and any ranged attacks at hand poured into the giant until it ceased its cries.

  A system announcement confirmed the beast’s demise.

  “You are Victorious! You have defeated all five waves of the Base Siege. Rewards are increased for your first victory at a higher difficulty. Bonuses have been granted for having 57% of your Guild Members still fighting and 100% of your buildings still standing.”

  “All members of the guild are awarded 2,000 Free Experience. Additional experience for the combat has been distributed according to your individual participation. The guild has been awarded a Hot Springs with Bathhouse in the park. Players and NPCs who spend at least one hour soaking in the springs or bathing in the bathhouse will receive a random bonus for the next 24 hours. Obtain victory in additional guild base sieges to continue upgrading your park. Your guild has been awarded the cluster shot ammunition blueprint for ballistae. The guild has been granted 5 teleportation passes to the trading city of Deep Harbor.”

  Cheers erupted on the battlefield and the players celebrated their victory and survival. The respawned players joined in and soon a large line stretched from the hot springs. The bathhouse had multiple levels and the springs themselves stretched across nearly 10 acres of land.

  A group of newly joined players approached Ovarrix, their faces worried and fearful. One stepped forward and addressed him, “Sorry sir. We panicked when the enemy siege weapons struck the wall. None of us have played with the pain settings this high before and we broke and ran. We understand if you want to remove us from the guild.”

  Ovarrix looked them all over, took a deep breath, and spoke. “You ran in combat. You ran from fear and from pain and from confusion. You came back though. You kept fighting. People make mistakes, especially when you’re thrown into a situation that’s desperate and you have no experience with it. Mistakes happen. What I need from all of you now is to learn from your mistakes. Look deep within yourself and examine why it happened.”

  “You need to test yourselves and see whether you’re suited for the combat, or if you need to find a role that would better fit what you can handle. There is no shame in that. The shame is in denying responsibility or refusing to correct errors. Not everyone will be a front-line fighter and frankly we need every role. You admitted fault. You’re already miles ahead of all the so-called great fighters that have never made a mistake in their lives.”

  “We fought together, bled together, and we won. Take this experience and let it fuel you. The guild will need all of you to give your best as often as you can manage it. Go, enjoy the win, and don’t worry about running. Be proud that you faced your fear and came back. Bravery is conquering fear, not feeling no fear at all. You all proved yourselves brave enough to defeat your fears.”

  The relief shone plainly on the faces of the assembled players. A few tears trickled down, and they bowed briefly before heading out to join the queue at the hot springs.

  Allestor eyed Ovarrix, “Nice speech. Did you practice it in a mirror?”

  Ovarrix laughed, “I did. I grew out of raging on people that screwed up. It was honestly exhausting. Now, if they screw up a few more times and don’t learn from it, I’ll rip them a new one. For now though, we won, and we can celebrate.”