Prerelease:Heroes of Might and Magic III: The Restoration of Erathia/Background Stories

This is a sub-page of Prerelease:Heroes of Might and Magic III: The Restoration of Erathia.

The Nether Gods Stories

NWC employees were publishing on The Nether Gods these short stories to introduce players to beforemath of The Restoration Wars.

Kreegan reference (Letters from Xanthor to Marcus Finch)

NOTE: This page really has nothing to do with the historical part regarding the Kreegan, but is really a part of a letter from Xanthor which Marcus later will refer to the Kreegan in reply to the letter. So far, the letter is posted. as well as Marcus's follow-up for an easier understanding.

NOTE FROM XANTHOR

August 11, 1998

Good afternoon! I discovered that earlier today the University received a letter from Xanthor. Since I knew that you would want to hear word of him, I shall read his letter to you.

*ahem*

"To the Staff and Students of the University of Erathia…" blah, blah, blah, "…August 6th, 1164."

"Colleagues." He's always so formal, isn't he?

"I know my journey has barely begun, but I felt it would be a good idea to keep you posted of my progress on a regular basis, even if at times it seems like nothing is happening. In the two weeks since leaving the University, I have seen little in the way of the excitement that Prof. Finch and I encountered in Stillbog."We continue to travel to the northeast, toward the AvLee and the Contested Lands. The weather has been good, and looks to stay that way, though as we travel farther to the north at this time of year we should definitely find some cooler climes. A Knight by the name of Desslock is our guide to the Contested Lands. Beyond that I understand that an experienced Ranger will be leading us through the forests. The eastern countryside of the kingdom is beautiful. Gentle, rolling hills and quiet streams make for a pleasant journey, and it'seasy on the eyes as well. I would like to thank you all again for allowing me to tour the world!"

Ah, here is where things get curious.

"But there is a reason I chose to write to you today. Last night we stayed at an inn in the town of Whitestone. Strange thing about this town, we didn't actually *see* a white stone anywhere. In fact, most of the buildings weren't built of stone at all! Anyway, we met a messenger who had stopped there for the night who told us that he was on his way to the capitol. He said that he had not read the letter that he was carrying, but that it was given to him by a commander of the eastern garrison near the Eeofol, a volcanic range on the eastern coast of the continent."

"Apparently, there had been some sort of battle there. The Erathian guard was not involved, they merely found the site where the battle took place. Actually, the messenger knew very little of the events, only that which he had heard while waiting to receive the letter. If what he heard was true, the battle was between creatures from Eeofol and creatures from the underworld, much like what we saw in Stillbog."

Since Xanthor doesn't mention it, I should point out for those of you who don't know that the Eeofol range is home to many of the creatures of the Infernos.

"Unfortunately, I have no other information of the incident, but our journey to the AvLee should take us near the Eeofol. I shall keep my eyes and ears open for any other news."

"Warmest regards, Xanthor."

Well, that's the letter. I shall have to see if I can gather any information from here. Do not worry, there have been no problemsfrom that part of the world in centuries. Xanthor should be safe and sound.

CLARIFICATIONS

August 12, 1998

After reading Xanthor's letter yesterday, I realized that there were a few things I should probably clarify. First, let me start with the Infernos. These places of summoning and breeding are only part of Erathia's recent history. You see, approximately three years ago, a race of devils known as the Kreegans mysteriously appeared in Erathia. Several astrologers claim their arrival was signaled by a star that fell from the heavens, crashing into the volcanic Eeofol range where the Kreegans are most prolific.

Shortly after their appearance, they immediately began to attack the nearby settlements. Initially, the only resistance they met were the garrisons of the Contested Lands. The Kreegans moved so quickly that the human cities of Dunwall and Marishen, along with the elven city of Bath'iere, fell before any large force could be brought against them.

Troops from Erathia teamed up with elven armies from the AvLee, and together were able to halt the advance of the Kreegans. However, not even the combined might of the two strongest armies in Erathia could secure a victory. As the generals sought a solution, one came from a most unexpected place. The Dungeon Overlords, long-time enemies of Erathia, attacked the Kreegans from their flanks, but rather than destroy the army, they subdued them. The Kreegans, apparently now under the command of the Dungeon Overlords, retreated back to the Eeofol range, where they have remained for nearly all of the last two years.

In that time, new garrisons have been created by both humans and elves alike. Reconstruction of Dunwall has begun, and the armies of Erathia and AvLee have found themselves in several insignificant skirmishes with creatures now bred or summoned within the Eeofol Infernos. More often than not, it is troops of the Dungeon Overlords who step in when the Kreegans seem to get out of hand. The event that Xanthor reported was evidence of that.

With luck, we will one day be able to rid the continent of the scourge of the Kreegans and their allies. However, one must wonder why the Dungeon Overlords, who have never been friendly toward Erathia, did not merely allow the Kreegans to run rampant across the land?

Ah, well, that is a pondering for another time.

DISTURBING LETTER

August 19, 1998

Oh dear, I just received a disturbing letter from Xanthor:

"To the Staff and Students…" blah, blah, blah, "…August 14th, 1164."

"Today was very strange indeed, and I fear that if I do not put today's events into writing before turning in, I will wake tomorrow having forgotten much of it. I shall try to remember it all.

"Our travel has been swift. Desslock tells me that we should reach the Contested Lands in as little as another week provided the weather holds. In fact, we're making such good time that this morning when we came upon the town of Claxton, Desslock decided we would spend the day here and leave tomorrow."

"As you know the library in Claxton is one of the most complete outside of the University (not including, of course, the libraries of Bracada), so I decided to spend the afternoon there. I wasn't looking for anything specific, but I did come across several interesting texts, including one highly entertaining novella written about many of the famous personae of Enroth. I'll have to see if I can't get a copy made for the University."

"About mid-afternoon, a slender gentleman entered the room I was in and began casually browsing through the scrolls. He was wearing a long coat of sorts, similar to the clothing of the Bracada highlands, which seemed odd considering the warm weather. When I inquired, he said something about not having packed enough summer clothes for his journey. I pressed him further (you all know how nosy I can be), and discovered that he was from Silver Cove in Enroth!"

"Well, we must have chatted for hours, eventually leaving the library for a nearby tavern, him telling me about Enroth and I about Erathia. I feel I need to report, however, some of the news of Enroth. First, the continent is in chaos. Apparently the armies of Enroth were not nearly as successful of stemming the tide of the Kreegans as the armies of Erathia. According to my friend, King Roland Ironfist marched an army to face the devils and never returned. Between that and the increasing number of natural disasters that have been occurring, many are starting to believe that the Ironfists have lost the 'mandate of heaven,' which he explained as 'the divine right to rule.' Hearing some of his tales, I thanked my lucky stars that such occurrences did not happen here in Erathia."

"At one point, my friend began rummaging through his pack that he carried with him, and I noticed a sealed letter marked with the name Zenofex. When I asked him if that was his name, he quickly shoved his belongings back into his pack and said, 'I can't discuss it here. Meet me back at the library in 10 minutes.' With that, he left the tavern."

"Well, you know how easily distracted I get, and tonight was no different. There was a travelling bard at the tavern who was telling a story but seemed to be making it up as he went along. I was enthralled, and as a result I completely lost track of the time."

"Suddenly there was a woman's scream from outside in the street. Everyone in the tavern, myself included, ran outside to see what had happened. It was dark, but we could see that across the street, at an entrance to an alley, a body was lying in a slowly growing pool of blood. The woman who had screamed said that she had seen the man come out of the tavern and cross the street. Just as he got to the alley, a figure wearing a foreigner's longcoat leapt from the alley, slit the man's throat and then just disappeared into the shadows."

"By the time the city guard arrived and managed to clean up the mess, most of us had returned to the tavern, though in a much more somber mood. As I mulled over the murder that had just had just taken place, a patron approached me and asked if I was related to the victim. This of course seemed like a strange question, but I told him I was not related and asked why. 'Because,' he said, 'you look a little bit like he did.' I downed the rest of my wine in a single gulp, then asked for an armed escort back to the inn where we were staying. I then began writing this letter."

"I don't know who this Zenofex person is, but I hope never to see him again, or if this traveler was actually him. I shall be staying a little nearer to Desslock for the next week."

"Until next time, Xanthor."

I do hope he stays out of trouble. He could have gotten himself killed! Well, you must excuse me, I must see that this letter is sent to the King's palace. The King will certainly want to know of the goings on in Enroth.

-Finch

Marcus Finch

4/8/98

The History of Erathia is long indeed, and like the Ironfists of Enroth, the Gryphonhearts have been the ruling family since before the Silence. While there has been relative peace in recent years, there are many conflicts in Erathia's past. The Elves, for one, still claim the Contested Lands as their own, and the Timber Wars ended more than 300 years ago. The races in this land are as different as the terrains. From the forests, to the swamps, to the highlands, to the snowy wastes, to the desert sands - the inhabitants change with the scenery. Actually, it is amazing that with this much diversity that conflicts do not occur more often.

You must forgive me, but I must return to my work. I shall speak more later.
-Finch

TIMBER WARS

5/8/98

Nearly five hundred years ago, the borders of Erathia were expanding under the rule of King David Gryphonheart IV. Explorers and settlers travelling into the forests beyond the nation of Phynaxia found a rare wood, prized for its use in making weapons, especially bows. Sawmills popped up almost as much as settlements, and an ever-increasing number of humans arrived to work the land.

As the humans spread further into the region, they began meeting an increasing number of elves. The elves, though initially friendly, quickly informed the humans that they were tearing down the AvLee - the Kingdom of Elves. The message was ignored, and expansion continued.

In 646 A.S. an Elven Ranger arrived at the court of King David with a proclamation from the Duke of AvLee, demanding that the King immediately abandon all human settlements north of Phynaxia. In addition, Erathia would pay a sum in gold equal to the value of all wood taken from the region. King David's reply was a simple one, "No."

It is said that the Duke was so enraged upon hearing the news that he had the messenger executed for treason. Another proclamation was sent, but this time instead of demands, a declaration of war was issued against Erathia, and so began the Timber Wars.

For the next nearly 150 years, the humans and elves warred with each other. The region over which they fought (which eventually came to be called the Contested Lands) became a desolate wasteland. Neither side could hold an advantage for any length of time, and the wars only served to sap the military and economic strength of both sides.

Finally, in 789 A.S., both sides sued for peace. The borders of the two kingdoms had changed, but neither side had gained more ground than it had lost. The Contested Lands were nearly uninhabitable. In all, it was a bloody, costly loss for both sides.
-Finch

QUEEN CATHERINE

"Earlier this week I was asked about Queen Catherine. I, too, wonder about the well being of the daughter of our King, Nicolas Gryphonheart, especially now, since I am sure she has heard the news of her husband's demise that Xanthor's attempted assassin spoke of.

Catherine has not so much as set foot in Erathia since her marriage to Roland Ironfist, King of Enroth, ten years ago, though she left quite an impression in her twenty years in Erathia. Catherine is the first daughter of Nicolas and Gwenllian Gryphonheart, born less than one year after their marriage in 1133 A.S. Catherine had one sibling, a sister named Beatrice, who was born, strangely enough, on Catherine's seventh birthday. The event was heralded across the land as a good omen, and a nationwide celebration was held for seven days - one day for each year that separated the sisters.

On her sixteenth birthday, and against the wishes of her father, Catherine enlisted in the Erathian military. It was completely unheard of, and King Nicolas nearly ordered her daughter brought to the palace in shackles, but the endorsement of Queen Gwenllian ended all disputes. However, Catherine's first few months in the military were anything but routine, as she quickly outlearned, outfought, and simply outclassed even some of Erathia's best officers.

In June of 1151, Catherine was ordered to take a small force to near the Contested Lands, where she was to put down a rebellion of citizens who claimed to be descendants of the Phynaxian Empire and were demanding their independence from the Kingdom of Erathia. As it turns out, the rebellion was a setup by one of the Generals of Erathia's military, a man by the name of Connel Traxton, who intended to bring an end to Catherine's rapid rise through the ranks of the army.

Catherine's force was ambushed two days before her scheduled arrival in the Contested Lands by an army nearly twice their size, comprised mostly of goblins and orcs. Keeping her wits, and using apparently a natural ability for tactics (though some claim it was merely a miracle), Catherine was able to not only defeat her attackers, but she managed to capture the opposing commander, who through a bit of "persuading" confessed to his involvement in General Traxton's plan. The man was dragged back to the Erathian capitol, where it is said that General Traxton actually fainted when told the news. The enemy commander was immediately executed, and Traxton would have followed, but Catherine demanded that she be allowed to duel the now former General. According to the records of the event, Catherine had slain Connel Traxton before either of them had broken a sweat.

For her miraculous (there's that word again) victory, Catherine Gryphonheart, barely seventeen years old, was given the Erathian Medal of Courage by her (now very proud) father.

Two years later, Queen Gwenllian and Catherine's sister, Beatrice, were killed by marauders while travelling along the northern coast. It is said that the King nearly destroyed the palace when he received word, and that Catherine nearly destroyed the barracks. The funeral and the days which followed were perhaps the most somber time in recent memory, disturbed only by the news of the swift and complete punishment dealt upon the marauders who were responsible for the murders. Rumor has it that Catherine blamed herself for not being there to protect her mother and sister, and as a result she resigned from the military and swore not to let the same thing happen to her father, becoming his personal guard.

Fearing for his daughter's well-being, in May of 1154 King Gryphonheart made arrangements for the marriage of Catherine to King Roland Ironfist of Enroth, who had earlier that year defeated his brother, Archibald, in a pitched battle for the Throne of Enroth, which came to be called the Succession Wars. Though at first she did not wish to leave her father's side, Catherine eventually agreed to the marriage, and on the first day of August, 1154, she married King Roland, becoming Queen Catherine Ironfist of Enroth. The ship that carried her from Erathia was renamed the Queen Catherine, and she has not returned to her homeland since.

The following year the proclamation was read in every city, town and village in Erathia. Queen Catherine had given birth to a son. The child was called Nicolai, which the Queen chose to honor her father.

I'm sure King Gryphonheart is to this day still filled with pride. I just pray that the Queen does not blame herself for the loss of her husband."

-Finch

GEOGRAPHY

Thank you, Christian. My, that *is* quite a number of questions, and all good ones I might add. Let me try to answer some of them, though my creature knowledge is a bit rusty - I leave that to Xanthor, he does take after his uncle Agar so.

Let's start with some geography. Again, this is not my specialty, but I will give it a go. From the Erathian coast, a safe journey to Castle Ironfist in Enroth lasts approximately eight weeks. The travel time can be cut to six weeks, but the more direct route takes you dangerously close to the southern shores of Regna, where pirates lurk along the shipping lanes, disrupting most traffic. Regna lies to the northwest of Erathia, and Enroth to the west of Regna.

The Dungeon Overlords rule the eastern shores of the Erathian continent, as well as the Nighon islands off the coast. It is a broken land, but riddled with caves and underground passages - a perfect space for the dwellings of the eyeless troglodytes and other creatures of the dark. As for a Cult of Baa, I'm afraid I've never heard of it. Perhaps they are sheepherders?

The Stronghold nation of Krewlod lies along the western coast of Erathia, in the foothills between the Bracada Highlands (home of the Wizards) and the Tatalian Lowlands (where Xanthor and I traveled several weeks ago). They have always remained neutral in the affairs of Erathia.

Finally, you asked about the Temples of the Sun and the Moon. While there were a few temples of these religions, most were destroyed when the two went to war, leaving only remnants of each. Most stay in their homeland of Karigor, and are rarely seen here in Erathia.

Well, that should be enough for today. I will gather more questions and answer them tomorrow.

PARALLEL WORLD

" *cough!* *cough!* Oh, thank goodness I'm finally in the right place. I think I've been stuck in some sort of "parallel world" for the last week. It was all very strange - filled with people who looked just like you, but acted very differently. I thought I was going mad when I spotted Guthwulf in the middle of the University building a dollhouse out StormMaster's supply of, what did he call them… nukes? It was dreadful, I barely made it out through a portal before he blew up the place, and I've been portal hopping ever since!

Well, now that I appear to be back in reality, I can only hope that some of the things I have seen in the last week are not happening here as well. You see, my last hop took me to a Gremlin skyship (believe me, they were just as surprised as I was) that was on a sulfur gathering expedition to the Eeofol volcanic range. After I told them my tale of what had happened, they said they might be able to return me to the correct world, and began to work on opening a portal. While I waited, I decided to take in some of the scenery, especially since I had never actually seen Eeofol, either before or after the Kreegans arrived.

I was amazed by what I saw. Instead of admiring the stark scenery of the many volcanic ranges, I saw a massive army gathered below! I informed the Gremlins, who seemed unconcerned, saying that this army had been gathering for nearly two months. I had never seen so many of the Inferno creatures in one place, and I became so frightened I had to look away. I laid down on the deck of the skyship, choosing instead to watch the smoke from the ship's furnace swirl around the twin balloons that held us aloft.

Perhaps an hour later, one of the Gremlins approached me to say that they were almost ready with the portal. He took me to the back of the skyship where half a dozen of his shipmates were working some bizarre machine with dozens of moving parts and gears. They told me to get ready, and one of them took hold of a long lever that looked like some sort of switch. The machine buzzed and whirred, and as the Gremlin threw the switch there was a blinding flash of light but… no portal.

Not sure what had gone wrong, the Gremlins began looking around, convinced that a portal should have appeared. Finally a shout of "I found it!" at the back of the skyship got our attention, and I realized that the Gremlin who had spotted it was pointing over the railing behind us. With a gulp, I approached and cautiously looked over the rail. There, nearly twenty feet below us, was a flat, black square, slowly floating along behind us.

I flatly refused to jump. One of them said, "okay, if that's the way you want it." When I told them it was, they surrounded me, picked me up, and threw me off the ship. I suppose I should be glad their aim was true, yes?

Regardless, I'm home now, and I must send word to King Gryphonheart. I only hope that what I saw in that other world is not going on in this one as well!"

-Finch

CREATURES OVERLOOK

First let me start by saying that while the inhabitants of Erathia bear a certain similarity to those of Enroth, there are some definite, distinct differences. For example, there are six types of dragon to be found here, though two of them are the vile creations of the Necromancers. I have heard of fearsome sea creatures, but have never seen one with my own eyes, and I am happy to say that I've never had to worry about any burrowing beasts in my time here! I could not even imagine having to constantly watch my step.

Each different castle, be it good or evil, manages to hire, train, summon, or capture seven different human and non-human creatures to be used in its armies. In addition, with enough time, money, and resources, every one of these creatures can be improved in some way. Believe me, the leaders here are quite good at what they do, and the armies they command do not die easily.

As for things you may not be used to here, there are many. Gone are the ghosts and sprites, the boar and the halfling, even the mighty phoenix can not be found in this land. However, in this place the goblins have trained the wolves as mounts, the gorgons make the very earth tremble beneath their hooves, the death knights lead the armies of the dead, and the basilisks openly challenge the medusa's gaze.

Necromancy origin

"The origins of Necromancy can be traced back to the time of the Silence, though not as directly as you might imagine. The art of Necromancy is a spin-off, really, of Alchemy, which in itself is a spin-off of Wizardry, which is a spin-off of, of all things,
Religion.

Now let me explain. Not to sound cliche, but "in the beginning," there was Religion. The basic principle behind Erathian Religion is that if you properly follow all the rituals, that which you ask for shall be granted. This belief holds true even today. But centuries ago, those who dabbled in the mystical arts changed the basic precepts of Religion. Living high in the southern mountains, they became the first Wizards, using rituals of magic not to ask for reward, but to create it themselves.

Sure enough, there were some Wizards who were not content to be Conjurers. Rather than create something from nothing, they changed the practiced rituals in an effort to change their environment - they attempted to animate the inanimate. Now comprised more of science than of magic, the art of Alchemy was born.

Still, there were a few who took this "new religion" one step further. Rather than give life to inanimate objects, the goal of this new group was to re-animate previously living creatures. By blending the magic of conjuring with the science of alchemy, the Necromancers sought the complete and total resurrection of the dead. However, it quickly became apparent that in order to restore life in this fashion that life must be taken from somewhere else.

Such a practice was so blasphemous (even to the Wizards and Alchemists) that the Necromancers' cult was exiled from the nation of Bracada (the southern mountains I mentioned earlier). Wandering the continent, the cult eventually settled in the AvLee - a region teeming with life. As time passed, the Necromancers, trying to reach their goal of a perfect resurrection, slowly drained all the life around them.

The closest the Necromancers have come to a resurrection is the creation of the Lich. The Lich itself is not evil - it is merely the attempt of a mage to keep himself alive after his death by *trading* his life for his own resurrection. Far more sentient than the animated Zombies or Skeletons, the Lich retains the abilities of its previous form, but must continue to feed on life to survive.

Today the nation of Deyja, barren home of the Necromancers for nearly a millenium, continues to grow like a cancerous scar in the heart of the AvLee. The elves have been unable to stop this slow spread of lifelessness, nor has any other nation even tried. No war has ever been declared on Deyja - even if the Necromancers were completely destroyed, the land is uninhabitable.

But the Necromancers have two true enemies: the Wizards and Alchemists who spawned them, and the Elves who must now live with them. In my humble opinion, it is but a matter of time until someone does declare war upon Deyja."

-Finch

THE INFERNO

My friends, in all my studies of Erathia, there is but one thing that fills me with dread more than the silent, cold death of the Necropolis, and that is the twisted, black-hearted evil of the Infernos. Foul creatures, ripped from the depths of the Hells and beyond, are bound into the service of the Demoniaks and Heretics who call them forth. They serve unquestioningly, and without fear, but are always looking for the one chance to break free from their master. Fortunately, I have never actually seen one of these creatures loose.

None of the creatures of the Inferno cities are native to this land. Because of this, there are few actual dwellings to be found. Instead, a great number of altars, halls, towers and pyres need to be erected in order to summon the Inferno's armies.

The lowliest creature to be found here is the Imp. Honestly, they are like rats, and no matter how many times you think you have killed them all, more seem to appear. Through research I was able to determine that once an Imp becomes a Familiar, it can create a dimensional rift within the city, allowing an even greater influx of these vermin.

After the Imps come the summoning halls of the Gogs and the furnaces of the Hell Hounds. Both appear in great numbers, though fortunately nothing near the influx of the Imps and Familiars. The Hell Hounds, when properly summoned, can not only take the form of a stronger Cerberus, but in the best cases can also be summoned in greater numbers.

As many of you have asked, there are in fact Demons to be found in Erathia. They, along with the weaker Hell Hounds and the stronger Pit Fiends, seem to make up the bulk of many armies of the Infernos. Strong alone, and deadly in great numbers, these creatures make even the holiest and hardiest of souls tremble.

Yet there are two creatures that outclass those that I have already mentioned. The first, summoned from great towers, are the Efreet. These monsters bear a striking similarity to the Genies, riding about on great waves of fire that always surround them. However, even the Efreet Sultans quiver with fear in the presence of the purest of all evil creatures, the Devils. Though they pledge their service willingly (for the right price, of course), it always seems like they come to this land for their own reasons.

Fear these creatures, friends, for they represent all that opposes Good. So ends today's lesson.

Xanthor

TALES FROM THE SWAMPS

My friends, what an amazing adventure I had! Three days ago, we set out for Stillbog, a new Fortress city deep in the western swamps. Since that region is technically beyond the border of Erathia, and therefore hostile, an armed escort was hired by the University to protect our group, which consisted of myself, my assistant, Gregor, and another colleague of mine, Professor Marcus Finch.

The journey to the Tatalian Lowlands normally takes two weeks, but our guide, Korbac, a Lizardman native of the lowlands, knew of a travel gate that would cover most of the distance and reduce our travel time to just under five hours. An interesting fellow, this Korbac. He calls himself a Beastmaster, which if I remember correctly is what the male leaders are called in the Lowlands. Our escort consisted of a dozen halberdiers and twenty heavy crossbowmen from the nearby town of Highcastle, plus one mage from the Tower city of Silverwing. I'm sure we looked like a motley crew, but as the sun rose, we departed.

By mid-morning we had reached the travel gate. It crackled with a strange energy, and through it we could see a dark forest. Apparently, morning had not reached that part of the world yet.

Korbac took half the pikemen and crossbowmen through the gate. There was a loud *CRACK!* as each person stepped through, but we could see them safely on the other side, peering about the darkness in search of any hostile creature that may be lurking in the shadows. Before long, we were given the signal, and through we stepped, first Marcus, then Gregor and I, and the mage. There was no sensation as we passed through, it felt no different than stepping through a normal doorway. On this side, as I watched the remaining soldiers come through, the gate made a soft "bubbling" sound as each person emerged.

Once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I could see what Korbac had told us earlier. The gate had taken us deep within the Tatalian lowlands. All around us lay murky, reed-choked pools. Our arrival had obviously surprised the local animal life into a cautious silence, but now as we stood there in the deep shadows created by the canopy of great, moss covered oaks, the nighttime sounds of life slowly returned. The deep booming of bullfrogs, the background noise of insects, and the occasional hoot of an owl created a grand chorus as we lit torches and set out to the north.

It was perhaps half an hour later that we found ourselves on some higher ground which allowed us to see the sun peeking above the horizon. In the dim light, we could make out a large cave mouth in the hillside above us. Korbac peered inside for a moment, sniffing the air. Without warning he cursed, hurling his torch into the cave's maw and drawing two long daggers that I hadn't noticed earlier. In the light of the torch, I could see several eyeless figures charging at us. Troglodytes!

An order was barked, and the halberdiers moved to meet the charge, but it was too late. In an instant, two dozen troglodytes had poured out of the cave and were heading toward us, and I realized that my own curiosity had put us directly between them and the crossbowmen who were now taking aim. I could no longer see Korbac, but I did spot a woman with a bow who appeared to be leading the troglodytes. She looked toward me, and I realized, too late, that I had just met the gaze of a medusa.

When I finally came to, I discovered a gruesome scene around me. The fight was over, and as I struggled to my feet the mage informed me that I had been quite solidly turned to stone, but that he had been able to revive me that very moment. He also told me, much to my relief, that I was lucky that I had not shattered into a hundred pieces when I hit the ground, pointing out what looked like the broken statue of a halberdier at the feet of two more statues near the mouth of the cave. I felt a sudden chill despite the warm presence of the sun that had by now risen above the trees.

The dead included seventeen troglodytes, three halberdiers (besides the three who were stoned), and five crossbowmen. Professor Finch told me that the remaining troglodytes had fled back into the cave after our guide, Korbac, had slain the medusa, apparently from behind. I realized then that I didn't see Korbac anywhere, and was relieved to learn that he had taken the medusa's body down to the edge of the marsh for proper disposal. While we waited, the mage revived the two intact guards.

Troglodytes and medusas are denizens of the underworld. I have been able to study both in the past (safely, I might add), but they were always under heavy sedation and not much of a threat. To see them in the wild like this was quite a treat, though not something I really look forward to doing again any time soon.

By the time Korbac returned, the rest of us were ready to move on. He told us that we were perhaps less than an hour's walk from Stillbog, and that we should expect to see the first of the town's scouts in half that time. Sure enough, not twenty minutes later we spotted a dozen gnoll marauders keeping pace with us. Korbac said nothing, though Marcus, Gregor and I quietly chatted and scribbled some hasty notes. While this was another opportunity for me to view these creatures in their native habitat, I have to admit that our experience with the troglodytes that morning had left me more than a little frightened.

Finally, we arrived at Stillbog. The place was bustling with activity, and I was impressed with just how much had been built in such a short time. Korbac chatted with a human woman named Verdish, who he introduced to us as the town's leader. Her hair was unkempt and her face was painted with wild colors, and she wore garb similar to Korbac's. She also had long strings of beads which would around her arms from her shoulders to her wrists which made a strange clattering sound as she moved (it wasn't until later that I realized the beads were teeth from probably twenty different animals).


The town itself already had most of its basic structures completed. Several gnoll huts were set up along the shore of an inlet that would eventually allow a small shipyard, assuming we were close enough to the sea. Across the compound, what originally looked like the lumpy bases of several trees turned out to be the dwellings for almost three dozen lizardman archers. Behind, the foundation of a large stone structure was being laid. We were told this would be to house the gorgons that would be arriving soon from another part of the Lowlands. In the center of town was a cage containing a great dragonfly. Verdish informed us that they had been completely unable to tame this creature, hoping it would start a hive in a tree that had been specially hollowed out for that purpose. They were unsure now what to do with it, as another dragonfly had already been sent for.

After discovering that there were no other creature dwellings here, Marcus, Gregor and I sat down with the soldiers to eat our lunch. While we were eating, Gregor asked about the large trench that several lizardmen were digging in the southwest part of town. After telling us that it would be a moat, Korbac said that according to Verdish, the frequency of troglodyte raiding parties like the one we had seen this morning had been increasing over the last several months. It turns out that Stillbog had been created as an outpost, as an attempt to stem the ever-increasing tide of raids from the subterranean creatures. He also added that we had been lucky - the raiding parties usually contain beholders!

Whether he was just kidding around or intentionally trying to scare us, Korbac had managed to put most of us on edge. Every sound got our attention, be it a chirp, chop, splash, or thump. As night fell, we were finally starting to relax and feel safe. That is when the attack came.

The sound of a war horn was our first warning. Everyone was alert, and Korbac and Verdish began barking orders in assorted languages. Marcus, Gregor and I were taken to the center of the compound where we were ushered up a rope ladder into a stout tree whose base was nearly twenty feet across. Fifteen feet off the ground, the wide base abruptly ended, leaving a bowl-shaped top ringed by branches which provided us limited cover but excellent visibility of the preparations going on below. I looked down, and could see the crossbowmen and mage climbing up behind us, and the halberdiers forming a defensive ring around the base of the tree.

Off to our left I saw Verdish and most of the lizardman archers climbing into another tree, while in front of us the gnoll marauders were hastily setting up several wooden barricades made from sharpened sticks. A similar activity was taking place to our right, just beyond the caged dragonfly. Korbac stood in the center, halfway between us and the forward barricades, issuing orders. Somewhere he had procured a shield, and instead of his long daggers he now held a heavy, broad-bladed sword.

Another horn sounded, closer this time, and we could just make out several shadows approaching. As they reached the edge of the light from the compound I could see they were more gnolls, probably the same scouting party that had escorted us that morning. They came through the compound, then took up positions to our right. When I looked forward again, I could see that the preparations were complete. Archers had arrows knocked, and the marsh had grown silent around us.

There was a sudden crash through the treetops to our right, and a screeching sound as four harpies made a diving attack on the gnolls at the barricades. The crossbowmen immediately turned and fired, bringing down one of them as they circled upward back toward the darkness. Instantly they began reloading, but no sooner did the body of the fallen harpy hit the ground than all hell broke loose. Into the light charged nearly thirty troglodytes, followed by the round, tentacled forms of what could only be beholders. Still the lizard archers had not fired, but I could see Verdish wildly moving her arms about. Though I have little training in the mystical arts, I could clearly see that she was casting a spell.

The spell took form, and the ground beyond the forward barricades softened beneath the feet of the troglodytes into a thick, gooey mud, slowing their charge. It was then that the lizard archers finally fired, having a much easier time shooting at targets that weren't so mobile. At the same time, the mage with us pointed his staff at the nearest beholder, letting loose a bolt of fire that burnt the creature to a crisp.

To our right, the gnolls had engaged the troglodytes that were coming over the barricades. Though outnumbered, they stood their ground. The crossbowmen began firing at will to help cover them. To the front the mired troglodytes were still pressing on, though they were falling rapidly under a rain of arrows from the lizard archers, and any troglodytes that reached the near side were cut down by the Korbac and the gnolls.

Suddenly, the tree to our left exploded. Bits of wood and fire went every direction, and the blast knocked me to one side. I would have surely fallen out of the tree had I not been able to grasp one of the branches. While Marcus and Gregor tried valiantly to pull me back in, the mage was taking aim with his staff once more. I looked in the direction he was facing, and through the smoke I could see a robed figure riding a black horse - a Warlock! That must have been what had blown up the tree, I thought. The mage fired, but the bolt dissipated before it reached its target. The Warlock, however, took aim at us, and my hair stood on end as a great bolt of lightning shattered our tree into a million splinters.

I was thrown to the ground, twisting my ankle badly as I landed. The top half of the tree had been blown open as if from within, or peeled open like a fruit. My ears were ringing, and the pain in my ankle was unbearable. All of the halberdiers had been knocked down by the blast, and most were now climbing to their feet. I couldn't see anyone who had been in the top of the tree with me, and feared the worst. As I looked around I saw the forward line of gnolls crumbling under the onslaught of the troglodytes and beholders. The halberdiers, now thinking they had nothing to guard, moved to help the forward troops. The right flank was faring better, so I crawled that direction.

Just as I reached the dragonfly cage there was a loud roar from in front of me. I looked up just in time to see a great manticore leap over the barricades, landing in the midst of the gnolls, where it viscously began tearing them apart. My stomach turned.


I looked to the front barricade. More of the beholders were down, and there were a few straggling troglodytes, but the blast of a fireball told me the Warlock was still alive and well even though I couldn't see him. To the right, the manticore was wounded but still fighting, and the gnolls not fighting it had their hands full with nearly double their number in troglodytes while two more harpies attacked from above. We were badly outnumbered, and we were going down fast. I cowered against the base of the dragonfly cage, thinking this was indeed the end.

Over the din of the fighting came the distant sound of a war horn. I couldn't tell from which direction it had come, but looking around it didn't look like anyone else had heard it. The right flank was holding, though only because it seemed like the troglodytes were more interested in finishing off the gnolls than in getting past them. A flash of lightning followed by several screams brought my attention to the front, though I had to peer through the dragonfly cage to see what had happened. The scorched dead, both friend and foe, laying in a straight line meant that a chain lightning spell had been used. I looked for the Warlock, but my view was obstructed by the dragonfly that was moving about inside the cage.

That's when I realized it. The dragonfly! I dragged myself around to the other side of the cage and pulled the pin that held the door closed. Then after tossing the door open, I flattened myself against the ground as the dragonfly emerged from its cage.

Obviously wanting to be the king of the sky, the dragonfly flew straight for one of the harpies, grappling it in midair. They tumbled, but the dragonfly's jaws were locked securely at the harpy's throat, and in a matter of seconds, the harpy's lifeless body dropped to the ground. The other harpy was only slightly more lucky. It and the dragonfly traded slashing attacks as they circled each other higher and higher into the air, eventually vanishing into the darkness.

As they disappeared from sight, I became aware of a deep rumbling sound. As the sound grew, the ground began to tremble, almost as if a stampede were approaching. Suddenly the ranks of the attackers broke, and I could see troglodytes and beholders, with the Warlock hot on their heels, running into the compound, pursued by a pair of tremendous copper-colored gorgons. Directly behind them, some fifty gnolls charged, and I could see a lizardman riding a horse, another Beastmaster!

At that moment there was a rush of wind as a great wyvern dropped from the sky. It swooped low, slashing the manticore with its poison-tipped tail, killing it instantly. A cheer went up from the gnolls, and the wyvern trumpeted its response as it soared upward, preparing to make another pass. But another attack wouldn't be necessary. The Warlock, along with a single beholder and perhaps eight or nine troglodytes, was fleeing into the darkness. We had won!

But what a price we had paid. Less than a dozen of the town's gnoll marauders had survived, and all but two of the halberdiers had perished. Much to my surprise and relief, both Professor Finch and Gregor had survived the destruction of the tree-tower, though Marcus had suffered a broken wrist, and Gregor had a foot-long splinter from the tree through his thigh. The mage was dead, as were all but three of the crossbowmen. The other tree's occupants had not been as lucky. Miraculously, Verdish, though a bit singed,
had survived, but all who had been with her had been burned to a crisp.

Like the medusa from that morning, the dead were taken down to the water's edge for disposal. Little ceremony was given, but even with the reinforcements that had arrived it was nearly morning by the time the place was cleaned up. During that time, Verdish healed the wounded, using a strange combination of magical spells and mystical voodoo, followed up with a strong and vile-tasting potion. I don't know what it was, but I slept until mid-afternoon the following day.

We spent the remainder of the day studying the creatures. The wyvern had made itself a nest in a large tree, and now that I could see it in the daylight I realized that it was an elder wyvern monarch. The gorgons trotted about, shaking the ground with each step, but they seemed almost playful. I was surprised to discover the dragonfly back in its cage, and I was told that during the night it not only returned to the town, but it had climbed back into the cage. Several gnolls had begun work digging a basilisk pit, and others were putting up the fencing for what would eventually be a hydra pen.

The next morning we departed. A strong force of gnolls escorted us to the travel gate, but only Korbac, Marcus, Gregor, myself, and the 5 soldiers went through, bound for home. It was an uneventful trip from the gate back to the University, but I think that we had all had enough excitement for a while!

Rumors from the Court (Rumors from Steadwick)

"It seems as though a new guest speaker will be appearing at the board now... He claims to be somewhat of a rumor man, and speaks of many things said in King Gryphonhearts's Court Room. He has already made refernces about Xanthor and Marcus Finch, I personally wonder if they will be returning... Anyway, he only posted the following below so far. Now being that he is a rumor man, the info he may refer to could be phony and/or real. This makes it all the more interesting really... But anyway, I will try to post my personal thoughts after each of his to express what exactly I make of it. But all you see in quotes are the exact words of the Courtier and not mine, my messages will appear in a different colored font. Here is what has been said so far, and if we do get important topics, we may develope a frame."

Introductions

Posted by the Courtier

September 20, 1998

"Well, if you're here for rumors, you've certainly come to the right place. Half the things said here are made up anyway, usually by some local Baron attempting to gain King Gryphonheart's favor. It's nonsense, I tell you! Why just last week a letter arrived from some poor fool claiming to be a descendant of the family of Phynaxia, claiming that troops were needed in the east. He claimed that an army "greater in number than there are stars in the sky" was massing in Eeofol.

 Sounds to me like some insane farmer saw an imp steal a chicken, but that wasn't the end of it. The very next day we received a letter from the University, claiming that one of their professors had seen this army from a gremlin skyship. But wait, it gets better! According to the professor, he was travelling through some sort of dimensional gate when it happened! Baaahhhhahahahaha! Insanity, I tell you! I can't believe they allow people like that to actually teach others!
Baaahhhhahahahaha!

*cough!*

Hmm, please forgive my outburst, *snicker* but it really was quite amusing *chuckle* when that letter arrived. We read it aloud several times, and it just got funnier every time. I do wonder what the King's opinion of it was, though come to think of it, I don't think the letter ever made it TO the king. Ah well, he needn't be bothered by such lunacy.

Well, stick around, I'm sure we'll hear more soon."

The Letter

Posted by the Courtier

September 22, 1998

"Bah! Another letter talking of armies. Not the Kreegans this time, though. No no, now it's the Dungeon Overlords. Will these people never cease? And this one… another professor at the University! Are they ALL mad!? What was this one's name… ah yes, Xanthor. Said he was on his way here with a first hand account of the story. Hah! We should all get a good laugh out of this one, mark my words!

Bah!

Yes, this is really something for me... I love when the guest speakers post and after waiting months to hear from a new one, we have Xanthor returning to tell another story!!! Remember Tales from the Swamps? It could be as highly anticipated as that... His story will appear on a new page entitled "Zoological Accounts."

Annihilation

Posted by the Courtier

September 24, 1998

"Well, we've finally received word from one of our *official* outposts on the Eeofol/Nighon border. Apparently there *is* some truth to what the locals, and even the University Professors, have been saying. According to the report, two massive armies, one formed from the Infernos, the other from the Dungeons below Nighon, are moving toward each other. The King, it seems, has decided to hold off on sending troops to the region. If they wish to annihilate themselves they apparently can do it alone. It's a smart move, because having an Erathian army in the area might cause the Kreegans and the Dungeon Overlords to decide they'd rather kill *us* than each other.

I must admit this is not the first time these two nations have fought with each other, but if these numbers are to be trusted then this is something more than just the Dungeon Overlords attempting to put down another Kreegan rebellion.

Ah well, fear not, for we are safe here under the wise leadership of King Gryphonheart."

Death

Posted by the Courtier

September 28, 1998

"A terrible thing has happened! The King! The Kiiiing! *SOB* He… He… *SOB* King Gryphonheart is dead! DEAD!

They say he died in his sleep… but… bwahhhhhhh! *SOB* How could he be… dead? I mean, he was no spring chicken, but 54 years isn't THAT old, even for a King. Ack! What am I saying!? Bwahhhhhhh!

It has just come to my attention that the King's personal food taster also died in his sleep! Since none of the other guests at last night's feast took ill, this can mean only one thing… POISON! Oh what has this world come to!?

The Dungeon Overlords and Kreegans rise to power and the king unfortunately died, how can Phynaxia possibly survive a time of war while missing their beloved King Gryphonheart... The story continues..."

Proclamation

Posted by Dannil Darvin

September 29, 1998

May I please have everyone's attention! Thank you. My name is Dannil Darvin, Lieutenant of the Royal Erathian Military Command, and I've been instructed to come here and read this, uh, proclamation to you so, uh, here it goes.

"In light of the recent tragedy of the loss of the Nation of Erathia's King, Nicolas Gryphonheart I, and in light of the fact that no bloodline heir to the Throne of Erathia exists, rule of the Kingdom of Erathia shall pass to the Royal Erathian Military Command until such time as a proper successor can be found.

Know, too, that the murder of the King will not go unpunished. An investigation has already provided several leads, and it is only a matter of time before the guilty party is brought to justice.

So signed, General Morgan Kendal, Commander, REMC."

Well, uh, that's it I guess. I've also been assigned to the Palace, so I'll be here until I receive new orders. Please try to stay calm, I'm sure this will all blow over soon enough.

Battle Results

Posted by the Courtier

October 2, 1998

"I was listening in at the door of… well, I can't say, really, but let me tell you what I've heard! The Dungeon Overlord and Kreegan armies met just south of Eeofol in what was sure to be a spectacular battle. Instead, they set up camp for two days, and according to the scout reports, the Dungeon Overlord army gradually vanished! Thousands of creatures just disappeared! After that, the Kreegan army split in two. One broke camp and headed north back toward Eeofol. The other, however, turned west. They overran the border into the Contested Lands, laying waste to everything in their path, including the Erathian Garrison forces stationed there! I did not hear an exact number of casualties, only that the Garrison was a total loss.

What will we do!? The Military Command already have their hands full keeping the peace throughout Erathia following the King's death, and it took the full might of the REMC to stop the Kreegans two years ago. How will they stop this attack!?"

A Word of Courage...

Posted by Dannil Darvin

October 2, 1998

"Well, it would seem that for once the Kreegans have managed to defeat the Dungeon Overlords. We just received a report that after two days of fighting, the Dungeon Overlords were driven underground, most likely in a retreat back to their Nighon homeland.

Not only that, but following the battle, half the Kreegan army began its retreat to Eeofol, while the other half, apparently as some sort of diversion, attacked the Erathian Garrison forces stationed in the Contested Lands. Heavy losses were inflicted to both sides, but our latest information shows a victory for the REMC, though reinforcements will be sent to the region over the next several days should another attack occur.

Fear not, friends. We have defeated the Kreegans in the past. We shall defeat them again."

Xanthor

THE LEGACY

It was a warm, southern-hemisphere spring day. A gentle breeze blew through the wide-open windows of the Palace, finally having the chance to clear out the stale air that had been trapped inside all winter. True, this winter had been warmer than most, bringing only dismal, dreary rain on days that should have ended with a blanket of angelic, powdery snow covering the palace grounds, but today just seemed… fresh. Like a new beginning.

High above the Palace a pair of Griffins soared, riding the wind in long lazy circles. The sun glistened off the rooftops, still wet from yesterday's rain, and the sounds of the swollen Teal River could be heard over the activity in the Palace courtyard. It was almost as if nothing was wrong with the world, thought the figure who watched from the balcony of his sleeping chamber. Nothing wrong at all.

The man continued to watch, finally turning his attention to the courtyard. To his left, two mounted patrols undoubtedly discussed the latest news. One of the three-man teams was just setting out, the other had just returned. Fortunately no sign of any incursion had been seen. The Erathian capital, for now, was safe.

Off to his right he could see a group of refugees, seemingly identical to those he had traveled here with just two days ago. Even from this height he could make out the frightened and shocked faces of women and children. But no men. Like those he had arrived with, the men had been swiftly recruited into the Royal Erathian Military Command. I should have gone with them, he thought. I have made knowledge my life's work, at least I could have put it to good use.

The balcony was high enough that he could see the Military's practice field across the river. Nearly two hundred soldiers were arranged in great double lines, apparently sparring with each other. At that moment he was grateful that he had not joined the other men. That sort of activity was definitely not his style.

Just then there was a knock at the door of the suite. He took one more look around, noting the irony of a people engaged in a destructive war, all beneath a spring day that was striving to give life to the land. Turning, he stepped back into the room, feeling the chill of the still-cold floor through the soles of his shoes. Reaching the center of the room, he stopped. "Come in," he said.

The door opened just enough for a chubby little man to enter the room, obviously one of the Courtiers of the late King. The man took two steps, stopped, and bowed cleanly and deeply before speaking. "Professor Xanthor," he said, "they will see you now."

Xanthor followed the courtier through the palace. The warm breath of spring had not yet penetrated the interior halls, and Xanthor found himself wishing he had put on some warmer clothes. The courtier did not speak, but he somehow managed to perspire in the chill air. The only sound was that of their feet, and the *swish swish* of the fine silk garments that the courtier wore.

"What happened here?" Xanthor finally asked, hoping to strike up a conversation. No one had come to see him in the two days that he had been at the palace except for the servants who had brought him food. The guard posted outside his door would not speak, except when Xanthor attempted to leave, only telling him then that, for his safety, he needed to remain in his quarters. It wasn't until he demanded to see the King that he learned of the Gryphonheart's death, and he had spent the better part of yesterday trying to bribe information out of the servants with food off his own plate.

The courtier did not even break stride. "I'm very sorry, but I've been forbidden from discussing anything with you, Professor." He then glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, and continued, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. "What would you like to know?"

Xanthor smiled. At last, someone willing to talk. "Well," he said quietly, "you could start with why I've been a prisoner the last two days. "I'm a scholar, not a thief."

"I know how you must feel, but you have to understand that ever since the Royal Military Command took control following the King's death, they've been hoarding information regarding everything. The war is going badly. Not only have the Kreegans overrun the eastern borders, but the Dungeon Overlords have vanished. The Military claims that the Kreegans finally defeated the Dungeon Overlords, driving them all the way back to Nighon, but there wasn't actually a fight. The Dungeon Overlords just… well, vanished!"

Xanthor struggled to remember his geography. He knew that the eastern third of the continent was riddled with caves, as were several regions in the west. Could the Overlords have really given up their control of Eeofol? If so, why would they have done it without a fight? Xanthor realized that the Courtier was still talking…

"…have been reports of refugees as far north as AvLee. Half of Erathia has been overrun, yet that whelp of a Lieutenant Darvin continues to tell us that nothing is wrong, that the fight with the Kreegans is merely a border skirmish. They have kept the royal court cooped up in this palace for the last month, and continue to deny us information."

"Wait a moment," Xanthor interrupted. "If the Military Command is being so secretive, how is it that you know what's going on? Are you on the Council?"

The Courtier cleared his throat, then stopped in front of a door. "Here we are, Professor," he said, changing the subject. He knocked twice before opening the door.

Xanthor followed the chubby man into the room. He did not recognize any of the faces of the seven men standing around a large table, nor had he really expected to. The Courtier announced him, then bowed cleanly and moved toward the door to leave, pausing only to wink in Xanthor's direction. Then he was gone, and as the door was closed heavily behind him, Xanthor realized that this probably wasn't going to be much fun.

The near side long table was covered in what looked to be reports, scrolls, and letters. A great cloth map of the continent lay draped over the far end. The room was warm, too warm compared with the chill of the Palace hallways, but it was clear that the fireplace had been going all night and morning. Xanthor looked at the faces of the seven men, wondering if he should speak, but one of the men, a well dressed, older man with fiery red hair and a long, sculpted mustache, broke the silence.

"Thank you for coming, Professor," he said. "I am General Morgan Kendal. I must apologize for the lack of information, but we really had no idea what to do with you. You see, most of the men fleeing the fighting are quickly trained and put right back into it, but we have a more serious problem with you. We need information from you, but we also need your secrecy. We need to know that what we discuss in this room today never gets discussed beyond that door."

Xanthor thought it over. "General, since I don't know what this is about, it is difficult for me to make such a decision. However, since I think I know what you wish to discuss, I have no choice but to agree."

"Good," the General smiled. "Finally someone who might actually be trustworthy. You can't imagine how difficult this has been, or," he said, pausing, "maybe you can. Dannil, get the Professor a drink." The youngest of the seven, suddenly realizing he was being addressed, quickly jumped into action, and before he knew it, Xanthor held a goblet of what seemed to be a fine Erathian Red.

The General continued, introducing the other five men. The fair-haired one was Lord Haart, who had served Roland Ironfist in Enroth. The next was Ryland, a ranger among the AvLeean settlers near Grainrich in eastern Erathia. Standing next to Ryland was a bearded wizard from Bracada, Theodorus. Across the room was Orrin, commander of the archery yards, and Ingham, Headmaster of Steadwick's Monastery. "And you have already met my Lieutenant, Dannil Darvin," the General finished.

"Quite a gathering," Xanthor said, "but I don't understand where I fit into this."

"Where you fit," the General's expression had become a frown, "is here, as our source of knowledge. We, the seven of us standing before you now, have yet to see what you have. We've been commanding from the rear; sending orders to the front
lines and waiting for reports to return. You, however," again the General paused. "You have been there, in the midst of the battles. We are hoping that your reputation for curiosity has allowed you to observe what's really happening out there."

Xanthor wanted to laugh, but detected something else coming from the General. "You mean you don't know what's going on? And you think I have the solution? Please, General, I'm a scholar, not a spy."

The General seemed saddened. He turned, looking into the eyes of some of the greatest leaders in the world, each in turn, before returning his gaze on Xanthor. He clearly needed to say something, but couldn't seem to find the words. After several
moments, he spoke.

"When the King was murdered," he began, then saw the look of horror on Xanthor's face. "You didn't know? As best as our investigation could determine, he was poisoned, but that is a separate matter." There was another long pause, and he began again. "When the King was murdered, I, by writ of law, became the temporary ruler of Erathia until such time as a suitable heir could be selected. The Kreegan attack into Rionpoint could not have come at a worse time. Much of the nation was just learning of the loss of their King, and suddenly they were called to help defend a leaderless Erathia."

"As if the entire nation had lost its heart," Xanthor interrupted.

"What?" the General asked, looking surprised.

"Oh, nothing, it's just something I heard a long time ago… talking to a traveler from Enroth. Tried to tell me about some cult he was part of. It's nothing, really. Please, General, continue."

The General appeared pleased. "It looks as if you have more information than you know, Professor. More information indeed."

UNLIKELY ALLIANCE

Hello my friends! You have no idea how nice it is to see so many familiar faces! But… what are you doing here? Was the University overrun? Oh, this war is simply dreadful, I tell you. Erathia is falling, and though I shouldn't say this, the Royal Erathian Military Command really has no idea what they're doing. Could you believe that not one of the leaders here at Steadwick has seen any combat? They're still gathering reports! Not only has Erathia been attacked from the east by the Dungeon Overlords and Kreegan Devils, but the formerly neutral leaders of Tatalia and Krewlod have decided to expand their borders into Western Erathia! What next... an undead invasion from the north?

Someone please get me a drink. I can't believe what a mess this has turned into. According to General Kendal, a traveler I met several months ago in the town of Whitestone fits the description of a man seen here in Steadwick, more specifically at the Palace, shortly before King Gryphonheart's death. At the time I thought the man was speaking in riddles, but it wasn't until I arrived here that I remembered him speaking of the religious cult he belonged to, and their prophecy of "a nation that would lose its heart" or some such nonsense. Oh, if only I had known... *sniffle* I could have saved the King!

Ahem! Please forgive me. I really did not learn of the King's death until I was almost to Steadwick. You see, I was actually in the town of Plinth, just across the Bracadan border, when the Kreegan attack came. The attack was swift, and the town fell quickly, but several hundred of us had been able to escape. We tried fleeing to the nearby town of Mirham, but discovered that it was under the control of the Dungeon Overlords. The refugees I had joined decided that the only course of action we could take was to head inland, toward the capitol.

But the road would not be easy. It seemed that no matter what path we chose, we had the Devils at our backs and the Dungeon Overlords all around. They always seemed to know where we were going, and were often waiting for us when we got there. Scores of people died, and sadly, many more were injured and had to be left behind. The holy men and women who traveled with us could do little more than offer a blessing to those poor, condemned souls.

As we continued toward Steadwick, and into gradually safer territory, we were joined by refugees from other parts of Southeastern Erathia. The story was the same each time, yet I grew more frightened each time I heard the story told. The Kreegans and Dungeon Overlords had attacked along a tremendous front from the edge of Bracada in the south across the Dwarven Mining Range near the southeast coast and as far north as the border of AvLee. The thought of such a broad offensive was staggering, even to me. I believe I saw General Kendal and several of his aides actually pale as I recounted the stories.

Anyway, it's good to be back where it's safe, and among friends.

-Xanthor

Greg Fulton Diaries

A preety interesting (at times) excerpcts from lead HoMM3 designer's diary.

Two weeks ago, I spoke on the phone with Tom Ono, the manual writer for Heroes of Might and Magic III. As usual, Tom asked how things were going. I said things were good... then proceeded to whine and complain for the next five minutes (much to Tom's amusement).

When the conversation concluded, Tom said, "Don't complain too much. Some people would give their eyeteeth to be in the game industry." I responded, "Who are these people and why haven't they been beaten for their own good?"

My name is Gregory Fulton, game designer for Heroes of Might and Magic III (developed by New World Computing, published by 3DO). You may call me Greg. Like most game designers, I'm sure you'll find me a bitter and cynical man, aged beyond my years, full of sarcasm, and inexplicably drawn to the horrors of game production like a lobotomized moth to the "pretty" flame.

As I guide you through your weekly tour of my memories, I promise the recollected images will be truthful and sincere but written with a smirk and a wink.

Undoubtedly, we will interact with the following animals: artists, level builders, managers, producers, programmers, testers, and monkeys. To help ensure your safety, I request you fasten your seat belts, keep your hands to your sides at all times, and be sure to not make any quick and sudden movements. Remember... we will be passing through the game production process.

12/05/98
It's Saturday. I'm at work with three other members of the Heroes3 team. I'll be in again tomorrow.

Smells like "crunch time."

Everyone in the game industry knows the term "crunch time." Those not in the industry may ask, "What is crunch time?" Long hours: 10-18 each day. We're starting our fourth crunch month. We have at least one more after this.

Bad take-out food: Mexican and Chinese food are New World's favorites. Today we had Taco Bell and Domino's pizza as part of NWC's "work for food" program.

Social Life: To work in the game industry you must already have some form of social retardation. When crunch mode begins, you may only speak in code to coworkers. Immediate family and friends may be seen on brief occasions so they don't file a missing-persons report. I'm one of the lucky ones; I don't remember having any friends or family.

Hygiene: Haircuts and showers become optional in favor of more sleep time. For me, showers are a must, but my hair is sprouting wings and a tail. Pretty soon I'll look like the lead singer from Flock of Seagulls.

Stress: Anger and frustration are frequent companions. If bridges are burned, this is usually the time. Earlier this week morale was low. In a fit of anger concerning team interactions, I was heard shouting, "I feel like a kindergarten teacher. Can't everyone just keep their hands to themselves and play nice!"

Murphy's law: Any potential hazard will be encountered. I'm writing this diary from the NWC conference room. My computer refuses to function for more than five minutes without seizing up.

12/06/98
This weekend I'm taking care of my PR duties (hence this diary). Not the most exciting stuff, so I'll relate a short story from earlier this week.

David Mullich (producer), Mark Caldwell (NWC vice president and programmer), Jon Van Caneghem (NWC president, creator of all things Might and Magic, and company design visionary), and I found ourselves crowded into the sweltering office of Scott White.

Scott did all the town screens in Heroes III except the Rampart, Necropolis, and Fortress. Since he finished his 3D duties, he's turned his skills to the game's interface. Believe it or not, we were in Scott's office arguing about color: interface colors and player colors.

After much arguing about the interface colors, we decided to leave it virtually untouched. Player colors were a different subject.

Originally, we used light blue, dark blue, red, green, purple, brown, black, and white. These colors needed to change. Light blue looked like the blue used in the main menu. Brown clashed with the brown used in the general game interface. Game text disappeared against white. Black and green disappeared with the terrain colors shown on the game mini-map.

OK. We agreed some of the colors needed to change. After this, the agreements stopped. I don't know what is more ridiculous... arguing over what colors to use or the twisted logic behind the arguments. Red, blue, and dark green were safe choices. We still needed five other colors. The conversation went something like this....

"I don't want yellow. Yellow is the urine color."
"What about brown?"
"I don't like brown."
"Brown is the s**t color."
"What about pink?"
"Pink is a sissy color."
"We won't call it pink. We'll call it 'rose'."
"Rose?"
"The rose player?"
"I don't know. If I saw a pink hero, I'd turn and run away. You know any hero secure enough to use pink as his color is bad ass."
"What about magenta?"
"What about cobalt? What about cadmium?"
"Have we accounted for all the fecal colors?"
"What about orange?"
"Phelan (our art lead) doesn't like orange. It looks bad."
"So. I don't think it looks bad."
"Fine. You tell her you want orange."
"She'll kick your ass."
"Oh. Fine. We won't use orange."

So it went. Fifteen minutes later everyone agreed to disagree, and Jon was made the final judge. Here are the final colors: red, blue, yellow, green, orange, purple, aqua, and rose (pink).

12/07/98
Today we stopped all map production. From here until we ship, I join the mapmakers and testers in playing maps and writing bugs... or so I thought.

Today, I had dropped into my lap the assignment of converting the 144-plus pages of the game manual into a help file. Anyone who has written a help file knows how huge this task can be. I could probably finish it in a day, but it requires no one bothering me for an extended period of time. Ha!

At this late stage of the production cycle, my entire day is spent meeting with people, making sure people are doing their work, and confirming that what is being done is correct. I don't have time for work. I've made the ugly evolution from game designer to middle manager.

It wasn't like this at the beginning of the project. At the beginning of the project the game designer is the screaming prophet, lost and alone in the desert (or the design process if you prefer).

In the middle of the production process the prophet is being screamed at by all his fellow coworkers who are wondering what to do because the design doc is behind schedule.

At the end of the project, everyone's a screaming prophet, and everyone is screaming at everyone else.

Sometime in the middle of all this screaming I've got to write this help file. Maybe I could give the assignment to Christian Vanover (H3 assistant director). Isn't it the job of a middle manager to delegate?

12/08/98
Yesterday I was wondering where I would find the time to write the game help file. Today I have the answer.... I think I have the flu. This doesn't feel like any 24-hour "see-ya-bye" flu either. This feels like "kneel before Zod!" flu.

All right. I've got a story for you.

Earlier today we "officially" stopped making maps. From here on out, we play, test, and polish the game. This could mean a little, or a lot. If the maps play well the first time out, revisions will be minor. If we end up chucking whole maps, we may find ourselves back to making maps. Thus, we started playing them today. JVC (Jon Van Caneghem, New World's president) ended up playing a notorious map named "Barbarian Breakout."

Ten minutes after he starts, JVC pages me over my phone intercom: "Hey Yoda." (He's been calling me Yoda lately. I don't know why. I'm not sure if I should be honored or offended. On one hand, Yoda is wise and he trains Jedi Knights. On the other hand, he is a short ugly green dude with big ears.) "Enemy hero with six behemoths (one of the highest-level creatures) knocked on my front door on week two, day one."

"Oops. I'll be right there."

As soon as I walked into JVC's office, the razzing began.

"What's with the six behemoths? Is this one of the balanced scenarios?"

"OK, OK. Something's wrong. Turn off the fog."

Jon restarts the scenario, turns off the fog of war, ends turn four times in a row, then right-clicks the enemy hero to see the extent of his forces. Aside from his other three stacks of creatures... he has one stack of six behemoths. Oops.

"All right. Open the map in the editor."

Jon opens the map in the editor. What do we discover? First, the enemy hero starts at level three, and the mapmaker (Dave Botan) has given him four stacks of creatures. In addition, the enemy hero's starting town has three of seven creature generators already prebuilt.

No wonder the enemy was able to recruit behemoths on day four.

Remember the story about the father who comes home from a bad day at work and yells at his wife? She in turn yells at her kid. The kid in turn kicks the dog.

At this point, I'm looking for a dog to kick. So, I hunt down Dave Botan. Immediately, Dave states his defense.

"Everyone says the map's too hard. It isn't. The AI's cheating." (Recently, we discovered the artificial intelligence was exploiting an undiscovered bug allowing it to recruit more creatures than were actually available.)

"The AI doesn't need to cheat. It's already got a huge advantage."
"There's a bug."
"Doesn't matter. Set all players to normal starting conditions."

At this point everyone begins to playfully dog-pile on Dave telling all the reasons why his maps suck. In the end he relented and fixed the map.

12/09/98
I'm not writing from work today. I'm writing from home. I have seven-way-straight-from-the-bottom-of-the-Amazon-flu.

With this kind of flu the logical course of action would be to rest, drink lots of fluids, watch lots of movies, maybe see a doctor. However, I am a game designer and unfamiliar with the ways of logic. A day at home with the flu means I have the opportunity to finish the H3 help file.

Wow.

How pathetic can you get? On my day off to rest and get better, I use the uninterrupted time to convert a 144+ page manual into a help file.

I should get sick more often. I get more work done.

12/10/98
I'm back at work today. Good news... I finished the help file. Bad news... I still have the flu, and because I was so efficient in writing the game help file... I've been given the task of writing the map editor help file. Oh yeah, finish it by Monday.

Monday? There's so much pressure in my head, when I sniff, my eyes want to flee their sockets. My voice has the auditory consistency of sandpaper. Monday? Sure, I'll have it done by Monday.

12/11/98
Well, it's Friday night, and I have yet to see Star Trek: Insurrection. Doubt I'll be seeing it anytime soon.

One of the unmentioned symptoms of crunch time is cultural unawareness. In my time at a previous company I almost missed the entire O.J. trial. I haven't seen a movie since Starship Troopers. I'm not kidding.

12/14/98
I shouldn't have come in to work Thursday and Friday. It really pushed me over the edge. For the past two days I've been laid up with fever and chills. Remarkably, it was the one thing to take my mind off work. Aside from a froggy throat, it seems to have passed.

Enough about my illness. From here on, assume I'm always ill with the flu.

12/15/98
Today NWC (New World Computing) took a brief pause from game development to listen to Trip Hawkins (president of 3DO, NWC's parent company).

Twice a year, Trip makes a formal visit to talk about the company and where we're going as a company. It's a nice break from things.

However, Trip wasn't half as exciting as David Richie (our tools programmer) who sat next to me. Turns out David is coming down with the flu.

Over the course of the meeting, the air conditioning didn't turn on. With over 50 people crammed into a room, it got hot very fast. As the minutes passed, I could see David slowly whither.

I thought he was going to vomit. So basically, for most of the meeting, I sat envisioning how I was going to get out of the way when the volcano erupted.

Luckily, the volcano did not erupt. David left in the middle of the lecture and I haven't seen him since.

12/17/98
Welcome to the end of another working day at NWC. There is still no sign of David Richey. Another one of our programmers, John Krause, called in sick today. David Mullich (the Heroes III director) was ready to take bets on who would call in sick next. Of course, everyone blames me for getting them ill.

As far as your average NWC workday goes, this one was hectic and full of revelation.

Revelation?

Yes. Revelation. Only today did I look at my calendar and realize Christmas was next Friday.

Hectic?

Yes. Hectic. Every now and then I need to wipe my desk clean. This means catching up on all the hand-scrolled notes and stray post-its littered about my desk. When my desk is clean, I'm caught up.

This very act of cleaning makes for a semi-chaotic day. There is much gear shifting and subject changing to close dangling issues.

Add to this my usual parade of visitors, and my first chance to test multiplayer, and it takes great effort to avoid turning into a screaming monkey. Yes, I said screaming monkey.

Frequently, I find myself held hostage in my own office as a line of visitors (testers, programmers, artists, producers, etc.) quickly assemble outside my office in a short period of time, all wanting a piece of my brain.

Today it happened to occur while I was in the middle of a multiplayer game with Jeff Leggett (H3 multiplayer programmer). Simultaneously, I had three people show up and cram themselves into my small office. Each began jockeying for position to ask a question. Meanwhile, Jeff waited on the phone intercom, with Heroes III continually chiming in the background, letting me know it was my turn to play.

At this point you may apply the screaming monkey metaphor.

Despite the great potential for chaos, I asked Jeff to wait, gave my three suitors a number, told them to wait in line, then answered each of their questions.

On the surface, everything looked under control. Little did these poor souls know there was a screaming monkey, trapped in my mind's steel cage, wildly thrashing about in a desperate attempt to escape and turn me into a volcano of anger and lunacy.

When it was over, I took a deep breath, noted the walls weren't sprayed with the blood of innocent coworkers, and returned to my multiplayer game with Jeff.

Heroes II multiplayer wasn't friendly in the least. When it wasn't your turn, all you could do was sit at the computer and stare at the screen like a moron.

Well, thanks to our wonderful network programmer, Jeff Leggett, a moron you will no longer be.

Jeff has finished implementing multiplayer support. Now we're on a bug hunt. So, today, Jeff and I played a multiplayer game in the background while we went about our work.

I must admit, I had a blast. Moments like this make me forget my job is serious work.

12/18/98 Friday
Today I actually managed to catch up on all my notes. Next up, International Translation Kit. It can wait until Sunday. I don't get to enjoy these moments of accomplishment very often.

Being a game designer is nothing more than a life of delayed gratification. You spend the first month of the project "being creative," then spend the next 17 as a bricklayer implementing low-level details and boot-strapping the game design when unforeseen consequences arise.

Tomorrow we have our annual company Christmas party. I won't be going. I see my coworkers every day at work. I don't want to see them in a social environment. It'd be too weird. They'd have, like, spouses and dates and stuff, and wear dress clothes.

We've been told we can dress formal or casual. To me this means torn jeans and a food-stained white T-shirt. To everyone else, this means dress formal, because no one wants to underdress.

I don't want to see any of my coworkers dressed up. The thought frightens me. We're a bunch of geeks. We don't look good in casual wear. Formal wear will only amplify our geekiness.

Only one thing could entice me to go to the Christmas party - seeing the wives go off on the management for working their husbands so hard. I'd pay to see that... provided I wasn't on the receiving end.

By the way... hello to Chris Cross and Brian Reed, two friends I made when I briefly worked at Dreamworks Interactive (I didn't work on Trespasser). They called me today. They'd read the first entry in the Designer Diary and called to tell me what they thought. They then tied me up on the phone for the next 30 minutes while simultaneously sending me e-mail with bizarre and obscene attachments.

01/02/99 Saturday
Well, I'm back at work. The Christmas break was needed. I spent the first three days drinking eggnog, sleeping in 12- and 16-hour shifts, and watching Clinton get impeached.

After I was well rested, the eggnog was all gone, and Clintion was impeached, I did what any game design loser would do... worked on the game while on vacation. Ugh. I'm so pathetic.

My initial goal was to play existing maps. After playing five maps, it was obvious the AI hadn't been fully tested. It tended to sit back and never struck out until it had enough forces to guarantee a win.

This made for very extreme game experiences. Either you never saw the AI, or it came storming out of nowhere, knocked on your door, and politely introduced itself as your doom.

When our AI programmer (Gus Smedstad) gets back from vacation, I'll need to share my findings with him.

Well, seeing as I couldn't really play the game, I turned my attention to our 144-page game manual... much to my horror.

It turns out our second draft of the manual was full of errors. So, with red pen in hand, I promoted myself from game designer to fact checker. Over the next three days, I proceeded to bloody the pages of our beautiful manual.

To say it was tedious would be an understatement. When it was all over, I couldn't read anything if it wasn't written in fine print.

01/04/99 Monday
Today was another screaming monkey day. Why? One word: programmers.

I won't say who, but one of our programmers came into my office and proceeded to yell at me over a feature request he'd been given to program.

Why was he yelling at me? On the surface, it was because I hadn't given him enough details, or I hadn't thought through its impact enough. Or it could have been because it was simply a stupid feature, I didn't know what I was doing, and I was ruining the game.

The real reason? He wasn't sure how to program the task he'd been given, and the specified time frame was short. Instead of calming down, thinking it through, and telling me whether it could or could not be done in the given time frame, he panicked, and chose to vent at me.

Programmers are a unique breed. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Some of my best friends are programmers.

I must admit I am fascinated. I've watched each of our team programmers code. It's very amusing. How they code gives me a unique insight to their personality. For instance...

John Bolton (lead programmer): When John programs, it looks like he's playing chess.

David Richey (tools programmer): David doesn't code. Beforehand, he thinks about his task in depth, like contemplating philosophy, then simply writes it up. Quite often you can look through David's office window and see him bent over in his chair, chin on fist, like The Thinker.

Mark Caldwell (NWC VP): You need to know Mark to really understand, but when Mark codes, it's like he's in a boxing ring, ducking shots, trading blows, and trash talking with the program.

Now take such individuals and do the unthinkable... Make them into a team. Worse yet, force them to have meetings in which they must interact on a social level and agree to work together. Worse yet, force them to interact with right-brained artists and game designers.

It's a wonder any games ever get made.

Join designer Greg Fulton as gives us his very last Designer Diary entry, which tracks the last days of Heroes of Might and Magic III. In these last few days, the team waited anxiously to approve the gold candidate. But there is no rest for Greg, as he mentions a little something about the expansion disc. Join us as we count down the final development of Heroes III.

01/07/99
Ever heard the phrase "thousand tile stare"?

It's a phrase used by our mapmakers. You get the thousand tile stare from making H3 maps all day long.

Today I got the thousand tile stare after making a map for our eventual game demo.

It's a very simple, small map, letting players experience a portion of the game. Hopefully they'll experience enough and feel compelled to buy the game. I've been calling the map "Dead and Buried."

When I finished, I gave it to Chris Vanover (H3 assistant director) to play. Chris is an expert Heroes player. He's a good gauge of the map's difficulty.

Watching Chris play was a lot of fun. It allowed me to take a break from work and finally see the game in action. However, I am the worst person to have over your shoulder when you play.

Why? I'm a backseat driver. It's a bad habit from playing console games with friends.

Thus, I watched Chris play and second-guessed him all the way. We were like two old men spitting and complaining about the best strategy as Chris clicked his way through the game. It was rather humorous.


01/08/99
Today I gave the Dead and Buried map to a few select people to see if anyone could beat it in the allotted time frame of four game weeks.

One of my candidates was Jen Bullard. Jen is the only female tester in the QA area.

Upon entering the test area, I found Jennifer burning a candle at her desk. She wasn't afraid to comment aloud how everyone else in the test area doesn't wash their clothes often enough. She thinks they stink.

No sooner did I sit down to watch Jen play than the verbal bantering between the testers began.

Ryan Den, another one of our testers, was sure he found a bug and asked aloud if anyone had encountered the same bug. No one had. Immediately everyone began shouting "user error." Ryan thought they were all high... until he realized it was user error. Everyone then proceeded to playfully tear into Ryan yet again.

I must admit, our testers are pretty cool. Their interactions are quite amusing. They banter with the voracity of a knife fight, but it's rarely cruel.

01/14/99
Last night was my last chance to revise the game manual. Thus, I decided to pull an all-nighter to finish it. This was my first time being at NWC so late. I also experienced something completely new.

I had been drinking many free Cokes when my bladder reminded me who was really in charge. Without hesitation, I raced to the bathroom. I opened the door. It was dark. This is not unusual. The lights are hooked up to a motion sensor. To save energy, they turn on and off based on the presence of a moving body. Confident the lights would turn on, I strode into the bathroom.

The lights did not illuminate.

Fumbling around in the dark, I was able to find the light switch and flip it on.

Nothing.

Fumbling around some more, I found the door handle and exited the bathroom.

Moving quickly to Mark Caldwell's office (Mark and George were also working late), I told him, "The bathroom lights won't turn on." He said, "Yeah. The bathroom lights don't turn on after midnight." I asked, "How do you go to the bathroom with the lights off?" He answered, "Usually I just feel my way to the urinal."

"I need to take a crap."

"Hey, I wouldn't know anything about that. Get the flashlight from George."

"I need a flashlight?"

"Yeah."

So, I walked to George's office.

"I need the bathroom flashlight."

Giggling to himself under his breath, George reached into his desk and gave me a pocket flashlight. With flashlight in hand I returned to the bathroom where everything went according to plan.

I know game production has its odd moments, but... this one was really odd.

01/18/99
In the last days of a game's production, the game designer makes a desperate attempt to prevent features from being cut to make the deadline. However, if I got all the features I wanted, the game would never ship. Thus, there is always a tug of war between the game designer, management, programmers, and artists, to decide what gets into the game and what gets pushed back to the expansion or sequel.

Today I was doing my best to get a new hero into the game without too much additional programming or art. I realized I could get the results I needed by simply adding a new graphic and customizing an existing game hero. Even better, I could get the graphic from existing art in the intro movie. All the artist had to do was crop a freeze-frame from the movie and give it to our asset manager to be put into the game. I could customize the hero in the editor. All the programmers had to do was recognize the character's unique identification.

Well, we did.

I wonder how much longer I can push my luck.

01/19/99
I have become the Walmart floor manager.

No. I haven't quit my job.

Let me explain.

At this stage in the making of the game, I find myself spending most of my time walking the halls with my Notepad of Oppression waiting for people to call out my name.

The notepad is a list of issues needing resolution. Most people find the notepad humorous unless their name is on it. Ironically, I end up putting my name on the notepad more than anyone else's (I'm oppressing myself).

Regardless, when I am walking the halls and someone calls out my name, I duck into their office to answer their questions. Sometimes this means getting on their phone and calling someone else to clear up an issue. If I don't have the answer, I'm the intermediary.

Thus, I feel like the Walmart floor manager, roaming the isles, taking care of arising issues. All I really need is the blue vest.

01/20/99
For a moment, consider most game manuals. Usually, a manual details the game interface and introduces you to the various game elements. Rarely do these manuals give you true game statistics.

For Heroes III , we wanted to buck this trend. Using the Heroes II strategy guide as a model, we decided to make a big manual loaded with information. This is exactly what we did - 144 pages.

Today we signed off on the manual. Well, no sooner did the ink dry than we discovered some errors. It was terrifying. I literally sat at my desk, looking at the errors I had discovered, and heard the manual mocking me with the chittering of a wild hyena.

There was nothing I could do. It was carved in stone. Now understand, most manuals ship with some errors. This is what the Readme is for. However, several people had gone over this manual time and again, and still there were errors.

I'll never make a big manual again. It's too much upkeep considering the fluidity of game design.

I'm sure I'll lose some sleep over this.

1/25/99
Today the Coke machine caught fire.

Let me repeat this.

Today the Coke machine caught fire.

Since we started crunching, around 7:00pm each night, Mark Caldwell (NWC VP) has been unlocking the Coke machine for free drinks to go with our evening meal. We don't continue pressing the selection buttons for the various drinks. Instead, we literally open up the front half of this big, red, half-ton refrigerator, made to withstand the assaults of the most juvenile of delinquents.

Now, I'm not exactly clear on the details, but one of the testers pulled open the front door to grab a soda from inside. Apparently, some of the electrical wires were sheared, followed by fire and smoke.

Upon seeing the fire and smelling the smoke, the tester grabbed Ben Bent (NWC office manager and part-time game director). He then pointed out the fire in the Coke machine.

With perfect calm, Ben simply unplugged the Coke machine. Poof. The fire went away.

I must admit, I can't help but see the fire in the Coke machine as a metaphor for Heroes III in production. A fire starts, someone panics, and someone else calmly solves the problem.

Truthfully, it's the story of the game production process.

2/07/99 Sunday
Today could be the day.

We've decided to make a "final candidate" CD-ROM for 3DO approval. A final candidate is what we consider "ready to ship." We then send the final candidate to 3DO for them to do shrink-wrap testing.

Tonight, no one leaves the building until the game is finished.

2/08/99 Monday
It's 5:00am Monday morning.

We just started burning the final candidate.

About half the team is still here.

We've been crunching too long. Everyone's burnt.

About 15 minutes ago, Mark starting broadcasting Money For Nothing over everyone's speakerphone.

Ironic.

02/13/99
I am literally weak-kneed. Except for writing this entry, all I intend to do is just sit in my office chair and do everything I possibly can to do nothing.

As of 8:30 Saturday, February 13, we're calling it good Barring last-second crash bugs, the game is done.

It's 9:30, and with the realization the game is done, already I'm beginning to crash.

After crunching for so long, the crash is the aftereffect. This is the time when you finally realize you can relax and return to a somewhat normal life. This is also the flag signaling the release of all the pent-up stress and illness you've been holding off by sheer will for the past six months. Thus... crash.

Wow.

We're done.

02/14/99
Four days after announcing Heroes has gone gold, we're already talking about the expansion pack. Already, I've assembled my map makers. They're good people. With H3 under their belts they should make even better maps for the expansion.

The downside? Chris Vanover is moving onto a different project. Technically Chris was H3's assistant director, but I adopted him as my assistant designer. He was a big help in many of the grunt areas. I was hoping to hand the expansion off to Chris so I could concentrate on the next Heroes.

No such luck.

Ultimately, this means vacation must wait.

(whimper)

Where is a monkey boy when you need one?

02/19/99
David Mullich's (Heroes III director) wife was pregnant and expecting about the same time as E3 last year (Atlanta '98). So, he couldn't go and demonstrate the game.

I was the next logical choice. I know the game better than anyone else, and when needed, I can turn on the charm.

Now don't get me wrong, when I have demoed the game, it has been a delight. Yet, as a game, Heroes III doesn't demo well. It's a turn-based game. It's not a first-person shooter or real-time strategy game. There's no real immediate reward for your attention span to latch onto.

However, Heroes does have a very large, very dedicated following. Thus, most people who want to see Heroes are already fans. This was the case at E3.

At E3 I did the vast majority of the presentations. I did so many I ended up losing my voice. Almost all the people who saw the game were fans of Heroes and liked what they saw. We were so successful, people were taking chairs from the other game stations to sit in front of ours.

Well, the downside to my work at E3 was... I became the demo guy. The downside of being the demo guy is traveling.

I hate traveling.

Once I arrive at my destination, there's no problem. I'm just impatient by nature. I'm also 6'1" and hate sitting in supercramped airline seats.

So, today I got to fly up to 3DO with Peter Ryu (MM7 producer), Keith Francart (MM7 director), and Jeff Blatner (new Heroes producer) to give presentations on MM7 and Heroes III to our Ubi Soft partners and a smattering of European journalists.

As much as I hated getting up at 5:30am and traveling to San Francisco (less than one week after going gold), the trip was amusing for a number of reasons.

Since I have been at New World, Peter Ryu has always worn shorts and sandals. For the presentation, Pete was ordered to wear pants and shoes. Throughout the day, he was wincing as the shoes rubbed his feet raw.

The other amusing part was hanging out with the French chicks from Ubi Soft and the European press.

Last time I was at 3DO I did an H3 presentation to a number of European journalists. Not a French woman among them. It was different this time, and dare I say, worth the trip.

02/22/99
David Mullich (H3 director), George Ruof (H3 programmer), and I are the only members of the team in the building today. Everyone else is on vacation.

Over the weekend I began my self-rehabilitation for returning to the real world.

When you do nothing but work 12-14 hours a day, seven days a week, and then it all comes to an abrupt halt, you suddenly find you have all this spare time on your hands.

Ultimately, you become bored. You don't know what to do with yourself because your "normal" situation meant working on the game... but the game is finished. Normal has become different and no longer normal.

A logical assumption for curing this boredom would be a vacation. Not yet. I've got to write the design for the expansion disc. I've got two weeks before it is due. After hammering out the specs, everyone will be briefed, then I can go on vacation.

I've got it all planned out. I haven't seen my parents since Christmas of 1997. So, I'm going to go back home and sit in the rocking chair in front of my dad's big-screen TV and watch nothing but cable television for at least two weeks. You heard me. Nothing but CNN Headline News for two weeks. If by then I'm not properly vegetated, I'll watch it for another week. Then I'll track down my old high school girlfriend and see if she's still single.

I've set up an e-mail address for your feedback about the game when it hits the shelves. This e-mail is merely for player feedback and suggestions. I will be the one reading the e-mails, and most likely, I won't be answering any of them. So, don't flame me if I don't respond. heroes@3do.com.

I've enjoyed writing these diaries. I wish I had been able to dedicate more time to them.

My apologies to Elliott Chin (who made these diaries possible). Elliott wanted me to talk about the design philosophy behind H3. After practicing design philosophy 12-14 hours a day, I couldn't bring myself to write a diary about it. So, I thought I'd do "a day in the life." I hope you enjoyed my tongue-in-cheek account.

I leave you with the following words I once heard the great Jon Van Caneghem speak, "When it's all over you'll forget how hard it was and do it all over again."

He's right. We will.