Heroes of Might and Magic II - Last Hope Campaign

This text file contains the Epilogue to the entire 
Last Hope series (Maps I-VII).  It should be read 
AFTER the conclusion of Abode of Evil is read.  Obviously,
it will not affect gameplay, so reading it is not
necessary, but if I've done my job the least bit 
correctly, you'll actually WANT to read it.  So here
it is, the final act of Last Hope.  






Epilogue - New Hopes and New Threats


	Catarina sat in the large, oak chair at the 
council table, staring blankly at the doors in the front
of the chamber.  Behind her, a larged arched window let
crisp, autumn air and the sounds of the city into the
room.  A soft breeze rustled her hair; she had to admit
it felt good after the long months of sitting in a 
sweltering underground cell, but nobody would be able to
tell from her outward appearance.  Her face was a study
of tired disinterest, as it had been since her brother
left for the Underworld.
	It had been four months since that day without
a word.  The rumor had been leaked of the King's 
disappearance, and many feared him dead.  Catarina had
done her best to quell the worried gossip, but without
much success.  She could not blame them; almost two years
under the corrupt and inexperienced rule of Darrence 
had thrown the entire nation into economic turmoil.  
Famine and disease had ravaged the countryside, causing
almost as much disaster as the war itself.  The barbarians
and sorceresses of the west, and other lands farther 
away and to different directions had seized upon the
weakness of the throne and declared independance.  
Corribus' return had quelled some of the rebellious 
tendencies temporarily, but word of his disappearance
had spread like a brush fire, and once again the distant
provinces rallied to make a move for autonomy.
	Catarina rubbed her temples.  Four months of 
trying to hold the country in peaceful stasis had taken
its emotional toll.  Every day, she would sit quietly,
hoping that today would be the day her beloved brother
would return, and every day she went to bed disappointed.
Soon, she realized, the would have to face the possibility
that he had failed, but the thought of her brother 
suffering a fate of eternal agony at the hands of 
Mok Choi was almost to dreadful to consider.  
	A sudden knock came at the door, causing the
Catarina to jump.  "Yes?" she called, trying to sound
unperturbed, though only moderately successful.
	A courrier poked his dead through a crack in the
entryway.  "M'lady?  Am I disturbing you?"
	"No, Mical," she returned, "Please enter."
	Mical entered the room and shut the door gingerly
behind him, as if afraid it might shatter with too much
force.  He approached the table slowly, a puzzled look
on his face.  "This arrived for you just now, my Lady.
It... a... I didn't recognize the man who delivered it."
He handed a neatly folded white envelope to Catarina,
and took two steps backwards, as was traditional.
	Catarina inspected the parcel.  It was a clean
white, more white than any paper she had ever seen, 
meticulously folded into a perfect square.  It bore a
seal in ivory wax that she did not recognize: a candle.
Who could have sent it?
	She opened the letter carefully and removed the
letter inside.  She gasped as she read the first line.
"My dearest sister,"  It was from Corribus!  Holding
back tears, she read on:

	My dearest sister,

		I hope this letter finds you in good 
	spirits.  I know that you hav been worrying 
	over me, but the Underworld was a vast, scary
	place, and it took Sir John and I several 
	weeks to fortify our position.
		I've learned some terrible things 
	since I left, dear Catarina, things that I 
	dare not share, lest you fall into the same
	quagmire of depression in which I am now
	immersed.  My whole life was a lie, and 
	because of my own evil and bad decisions, so
	many of my friends and loved ones have been
	killed.  I shall never forgive myself for the
	hurt I've caused to so many people.
		There is no easy way for me to say 
	this to you, Catarina, so I will be direct.
	I am not returning to my beloved home.  I
	am not worthy to rule; I was never the true 
	heir.  You cannot understand this now, and
	in time I may tell you the entire truth,  
	but now, you must trust me.  Do as I tell 
	you.  The country may still be in danger 
	from a force stronger than you or I can 
	fathom.  I hope that my absense will protect
	Holbark, but the force is unpredictable. 
	Be wary of strangers bearing gifts, Catarina.
	It may be our undoing.
		I must say goodbye now, Catarina. I
	have a path of my own to follow.  I hope 
	someday our paths meet, but you are now a 
	Queen, and may not find the time to adventure.
	Please relay my sympathies to the family of
	Sir John Tale.  He died nobly, protecting his
	king, and he deserves respect for his courage
	and honor. Hopefully, his will be the last 
	death in this awful war.  I wish you luck,
	my sister, and will love you always.	
	
			Your brother,
			Corribus 

	
	Catarina was unable to hold back the tears as
she finished the letter, but was careful not to get 
the precious document wet.  Mical fidgeted, not sure
how to react.  
	The Queen read the letter several times before
moving, but when she did so, she was abrupt and formal.
Holbark needed a ruler.  They might not accept her as
Queen immediately, but the letter was proof that 
Corribus had stepped down as King, and she was the next
in line.  With all sorrow gone from her voice, she relayed
the story to Mical, a man she trusted, and gave him 
orders to summon the Council.  Her coronation had to 
be swift and sudden, so that potential rivals would have
no time to organize and make a bid of their own.
	Mical bowed rigidly and headed for the door, 
closing it softly behind him.  Catarina returned to the
window and glared out at her kingdom.  She smiled as
she gazed over the beautiful, jagged mountains in the
distance.  There was so much to do.  People needed fed,
the economy needed restimulated.  Merchants needed to
be brought in to the country.  Maybe a festival.. yes!
A festival to commemorate a new era of prosperity.  
And then there was the barbarian uprisings.  She would
need to raise an army to force her hand on distant
counties that might see the emergence of a new Queen as
an even greater incentive to rebel.  The country was
in shambles, and it would be quite a task to put it back 
together, but Corribus saw her as a wise and just 
person, capable of becoming a wonderful leader.  She 
did not understand much of what the letter said, but 
she had confidence that in time she would.
	The Queen smiled again and turned from the window.
She squared her shoulders and walked proudly towards the
chamber entryway. It would be a new era, she thought to
herself, and she would be its herald.  Catarina reached 
out a hand and opened the door.  With the future in 
front of her and the past a distant memory, she walked
out of the council chambers and into a new life.  
Holbark, she swore to herself, would remember this day 
for eternity.


	The minute Corribus entered the antechamber of
The Abode and closed the door behind him, John Tale had
the sick feeling that meant he had made a tragic mistake.
He had jumped through the Dark Portal to protect his 
King, and now he had willfully agreed to wait outside
while Corribus fought who knew what behind the closed
wooden doors.  Tale banged his a mail fist against the
wall in frustration, cursing his stupidity.
	For nearly twenty minutes, the knight paced back
and forth in front of the door in silence, often kicking
at the floor or the bottom of the wall in irritation. If
Corribus was killed, he'd never forgive himself.  No
sounds of distress wafted through the strange doors, 
a fact which might of comforted the knight if not for
the additional fact that NO sounds wafted through them.
He couldn't be sure if the lack of noise meant that 
the King had met with no resistance, or if the King was
in fact screaming for help at the present moment and 
the doors simply didn't transmit sound!
	Tale turned around again and began stomping in
the opposite direction.  At least the odd blue torches
did not seem to burn low in their sconces, offering a
rather steady flow of light, however unnatural it was.
If anything, he could act as sentry and prevent anything
from interrupting whatever was going on inside.  John
instantly chided himself.  "Stupid idiot," he muttered,
"Stop trying to justify your thoughtless choices."
	He stopped again in front of the door.  Should
he open it?  Would Corribus be mad?  Certainly, he would
see his guard's point of view.  Tale cautiously stuck a
hand out and grabbed the handle, his actions so slow
and timid an observer might have thought the handle 
was red with heat.  He pulled at the latch and tugged gently,
expecting the door to open soundlessly as it had before.
To his horror, the door didn't budge.  It was either 
locked or stuck.
	Tale cursed and tugged harder, hoping it was only
stuck, but the door met his resistance easily.  "Damn
stupid underworld wood!" he shouted.  What would he do
now if Corribus yelled for help?
	Just as he thought the words, a high pitched 
masculine voice yelled, followed by the familiar whoosh
of burning flames.  The King was in trouble!
	Tale rushed towards the door and threw all of his
weight against the wood.  It barely budged, not even 
offering a hint of the familiar groans that came from
stressed oak or pine.  The Knight fell back, clutching
his arm in pain.  Another yell followed, tinged with
urgent pain.  The sound of hissing fire enveloped the
voice, but over it all, he could hear the familiar sound
of triumphant laughter.  Mok Choi and her magic!
	Desperation assailed the knight, and he flung
himself against the door again, this time with a running
start.  The wood creaked, and the dull thud from the
blow echoed down the corridors.  Tale cursed again, 
conceding that the door would never cave under the
weight of four men, let alone one.
	The knight clenched his jaw in thought, trying to 
figure out some way to get in.  Suddenly he remembered
the sword at his belt.  "Idiot!" he yelled to himself.
Of course, he WAS a knight after all.  Knights carry
heavy weapons!  He drew the blade and prepared to chop
the door down if need be.  Tale pulled the sword back 
to begin his swing when a sudden deafening crash shook
the ground and jarred the sword from his grasp.  His
feet seemed to run away from him and he went crashing
to the floor.  For more than a few moments the walls
themselves shook, and the door groaned and buckled on 
its hinges.  Then it stopped, and he could hear nothing.
	What was that? Was Corribus dead?  Without 
further thought, Tale retrieved the sword and charged 
the door again.  He chopped wildly, tearing large chips 
in the foregn wood from the surface.  The damage to his 
sword would be great, but if his charge died, a sword 
would be worth nothing.  His arm grew quickly tired, but
he continued to wield the blade like and axe, chopping 
and slashing until his hand grew sore, each hit causing 
a loud, grating bang.
	Suddenly, he heard more angry shouts, and their
source was easily identifiable as Corribus.  The 
knowledge that his king still lived caused him to forget
his own pain and exertion, and the fatigue in his arm
vanished with the renewed energy.  He began throwing his
weight into the door as he swung his sword, and each
time he charged, the hinges creaked louder than the time
before.  The door began to wobble and jostle when he
hit it, and wood chips flew in all directions as if the
knight was some type of supernatural lumberjack.  
Indeed, Tale was a blur of desperate fury, and each 
bang resonated loudly in all directions.  Surely,
Corribus heard him and knew that help was on the way!
	And then, wihtout warning, the door suddenly 
collapsed inwards with a deafening crack.  It spintered
in half, and Tale's momentum carried him, staggering 
and off balanace, into the antechamber.  The knight 
landed on the floor and his bent and useless sword 
skittered into the darkness. Tale didn't notice, his 
attentions fully on finding the king and assessing and 
injuries.
	He scanned the large room until he found Corribus.
The King was standing on a raised dais in the center of
the chamber, something large - a body? - slung across 
his shoulders.  He faced a shimmering black portal, and
was stepping into its watery face.  "NO!!!" Tale howled,
but his scream went unheard as the gateway snapped shut
behind the King, plunging the entire chamber into
near darkness and absolute silence.
	Tale struggled to his feet, heaving with exhaustion.
How could the King leave him? "Unless he had some reason
to believe I was already dead," the Knight mused aloud.
He didn't know if he should feel betrayed or not. Surely
he had some reason.  Surely...
	A sudden warm wind coming from the smashed 
doorway broke the knight's train of thought; the hot
breeze was followed instantly by a distant hissing laugh. 
Tale turned and pulled his stiletto from his sword belt, 
the only weapon he had left.  He gazed down the long 
corridor behind the doorway, feeling suddenly frightened
and alone.  But he saw nothing.  Nothing except the blue
torches, evenly spaced along the hallway.
	He was about to turn around again when something
caught the corner of his eyes.  Far down the hallway, he
couldn't help but notice one of the torches winking out.
It was strange, he decided, because they had not 
diminished in intesity in the half hour he had been out
there.  Suddenly, another torch winked out, this time
closer.  And then another, followed by another, always
approaching towards him.
	Tale stood dumbfounded as they went out one
by one until only three remained in the hallway before
the door.  The third one went out, leaving two, and
that's when he noticed that the hallway behind the
extinguished torches seemed incredibly dark, darker
than any lack of light he had ever seen before.  The
second torch winked out, and Tale was certain that it
was some sort of dark mist, floating down the hallway
towards him.  He tried to turn his feet and flee, but
found himself frozen with fear.  The dagger in his hands
dropped to the floor.  What good was a blade against
a cloud?
	The last torch went out and the fog seeped into
the antechamber, its heavy mass curling around his feet.
Something spoke to him from inside the mist, its voice
a snakelike hiss.  "He didn't care, John.  Corribusss
left.  I told him that it was you banging on the door,
but he didn't care.  He sssaid that your death would
buy hissss escape."  The voice laughed, and the mist
expanded ominously, perfectly in tune with each evil
chuckle.
	Tale shook his head in disbelief.  "Corribus
would never do such a thing," he said, though his voice
was obviously tinged with uncertainty.  Had the King 
really purposefully left him to die?  He had been 
acting very un-Corribus-like of late.
	Tendrils of mist reached out an carressed 
the knight, winding smoothly around his neck and legs.
A gentle force drew the knight towards its nebulous 
depths.  Tale tried to back away, but found that he 
could not.  The cloud beckoned, and his mind seemed 
unable to force his muscles to obey.
	"Join me, John," it said, its voice a gentle
purr.  "Together, you can get revenge.  We would be
unstoppable..."
	"Who are you?" John asked, his voice quivering
with worry and fear.
	"I am Axzelbis, John," it purred, "I am the 
Darkness, nothing more.  I'm not bad, John.  I'm as
natural as light, as necessary as water.  Without me,
the world cannot function.  Come, John, join me.."  The
tendrils drew him closer, and Tale inhaled the mist.
It smelled of decay and death.  He felt like vomiting.
	"I'd die before I harmed my king," Tale choked
back, gagging on the black fog which was now surrounding
him from all sides like a misty blanket.
	The mist suddenly grew thick and oily, almost
solid, and its previously warm, gentle embrace became
colder than ice to the point of numbing pain. "I'm 
afraid," Axzelbis barked in anger, "That death is NOT 
an option.  Not yet..."  
	Laughter assailed the knight's ears just as 
pain enveloped his entire body.  Tale bellowed in agony
as the cloud entered him from every possible bodily 
oraface.  It's touch on his skin was freezing to the
point of torture, and he felt dizzy from asphixiation.
The peaceful, welcome feeling of unconsciousness would
not come, and Tale's shrill screams echoed from the
distant balconies.  He tried desperately to fight the 
mist, batting at it with nearly paralyzed limbs,
but the tendrils of gaseous evil constricted around his
body like steel cables, crushing his arms to his sides
and forcing all air from his lungs.   
	"We could have been friends, John," the Darkness
sneered, "But we're GOING to be partners."  Tale collapsed
to his knees, instinctively shutting his eyes.  The 
Darkness laughed. "I hope you set aside some room for me
in that puny little brain of yours, John, because you 
and I are going to be roommates for an awfully long 
time..."  The Darkness howled in laughter as the last 
of its misty form entered into Tale's body. The knight
collapsed, unconscious, onto the hard, stone
floor, his body shaking slightly as it adjusted to the
presence of another inhabitant.  Eventually, the seizures
stopped, and an almost peaceful calm descended upon the 
darkened room.  The Abode seemed to sigh with happiness as 
the antechamber settled into tranquility, for although
goodness had won the day, evil had found itself a new 
champion.  
	
END - Last Hope Campaign.




A note to the players - 
Finally, it's over!  I want to write a special thank
you to all the people who played these maps, and, more
specifically, the people who wrote me comments.  Your
advice, criticism, and compliments were invaluable in 
making these maps what they are.  It was nice to know
that my hard work was actually worth while, that other 
people were actually enjoying the story and strategy in
the Last Hope campaigns.  A special thanks goes to the
several playtesters who tested one or more of the maps
for me (names can be found with the individual maps).
Without your help, these maps would have been REALLY
crappy.  In any case, thanks for playing.  I hope it
was as great of a time for you as it was for me.

Questions/Comments?? Please write me email at 
tduncan@haverford.edu.





