Touching the Back Wall

In over two hours we had gone down more often then Bush's ratings in six years. And then the man with the crown [our priest] said, "We're getting those pants!". The pants in question were for our priest and we had tried to get them off the last boss in Sethekk Hall over a dozen times. Yet, that wasn't the point. It was no different then Travis firing a cannon ball at Santa Anna's [This Santa didn't bring presents] playing of the Degüello outside the walls of the Alamo. Like then, we were outnumbered and outgunned. Both were statements of defiance . . . and we would joyously be defiant!

The point was we were touching the back wall of the instance regardless of what it cost. And there we were facing the toughest room in an instance that had remained tough all the way. And though virtually battered and bloodied . . . we were not beaten or bowed! Though dented we were determined. We pushed through the punishing pulls. We wiped more than once, but we whittled away at those before us.

And then we stood before the last pull before the last boss . . . an ugly grouping of six . . . and we were only five . . . and one was so low the two good pieces of gear she got she cannot use for two more levels. Undaunted, we pulled and then gutted out a long engagement that included more then a number of fears on the group and included the loss of our main healer [our priest and the man with the crown].

Our druid jumped from kitty form and started healing . . . and healed better then I've ever seen him. Our lowbie warrior gutted it out against elites three levels higher then her. Our warlock stepped back and kept one feared and one engaged by her demon and I'm sure dotted the hell out the rest.

And . . .

There we stood . . . all alive except the priest, but still standing!

So, we approached the last boss. A place there were times I know we all doubted we would see. The priest had to be summoned by the warlock because there were respawns at the front door. There was no do-overs available this time. No extra lives. It was overtime and we had no more time outs and the sun was in our eyes and we had to walk through the snow uphill both ways, etc. It was last call.

We approached knowing we had one chance, but we only ever needed one chance if we got it right [and got lucky]. Almost immediately we lost our druid [one HELL of a DPSer]. Like with the loss of the priest in the last pull, it was a blow, but almost a benefit as everyone focused even more and worked that much harder to gut it out. And like before, four stood when the killing stopped.

No, we didn't get the pants, but we will even if it is just to DE them.

Yet, I honestly had tears in my eyes when that boss fell. The entire run was a work of art. Now, don't think Elvis on velvet or a real classy nude study. My favorite work of art is The Raft of the Medusa. Folks mistake it for something gruesome and grotesque, but it is really the capturing of a moment of great joy.

It was painted from the accounts of a true incident off the coast of Africa where folks were stranded on a raft. The painting is the moment of rescue. There is a tiny boat off on the horizon and those in the back of the painting have seen it and those in the front have not. We are looking from the past towards the future . . . through the dead and dying . . . and we see those still in the past with their despair and those in the future with their joy.

Smashing away at the last boss and watching his health fall, but knowing our best DPSer had fallen and that we had one party member who if not for the random polymorphs from the boss should have long fallen to the Arcane bolts and knowing the priest and warlock only had so much mana . . . that moment . . . when we passed from determined to delighted . . . that moment of his death and our life . . . that moment . . . would have meant so much less if the road had not been so rough.

And after the cheers you leave and the instance and it resets. Nothing has really been changed. There are no physical trophies. There is no real persistence. What is virtually gained will be eventually lost either through the someday cancelling of our accounts or the death of the game. What remains are the memories of moments. I can't remember the countless trash mobs we fought through to get to that moment, but I will long remember that moment.