The Darkest Dungeon

Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer.

The Giant, gimmepie, was provoked almost as soon as the Heroes entered the Dungeon, being attacked by Foxrally. The Giant charged at his attacker, crushing the man's body between his large fists, pulverizing the corpse until it was merely blood and mush. The rest of those in the Dungeon charged forward, attempting to tame the Giant. It roared and stomped its feet at every slash of sword, but it would take more than a few cuts to end the creature's life. It was abated for the day, but such a terrible assault could not be left unanswered.

In the midst of the carnage, others took blows from friends and foes taking advantage of the chaos. The night could not come soon enough. The blood of many seeped into the soil of the ground, strengthening the Darkness of the Dungeon. The Heroes had made their way in deep into the evil place and yet had made slow progress.

They secured a room in the Dungeon, attempting to keep the monsters at bay for the night, but the machinations of Darkness were already at work.

After the battle, Foxrally's mush was collected by a robed figure and carried away into the Darkness. His death would prove unique, the figure thought. Some experimentation was needed, but... maybe this was a blessing and a lesson for the rest.

As the sun set outside the Dungeon, a carriage came down the Old Road. The clattering of hooves on cobble echoed through the stillness of the forest as nine travelers made their way to the village. A blacksmith, a barkeeper, a priest, a nun, a gypsy, a wanderer, two guildmembers, and a grave digger to bury the corpses. They were familiar to the others and anger was etched into their faces.

The Village was ready to take back their lands come dawn.

THE DAMAGE

THE GAMEPLAY​

THE PLAYERS​

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The Hound Master had prepared for this moment. It was time to follow his target and see where his work would get him. He fed his hound some scraps of rat meat before crawling outside the barricade they had placed around their campfire.

He saw his mark dashing deep into the cobbled labyrinth and followed behind quietly. This time...there would be no mistakes. He ducked behind a toppled column and peered over it.

The target had stopped, shuffling through debris on the ground, when a crumbling of stone made them both jump. Three figures came from behind the crumbling stone. A large, looming man with two whips, and smaller men on either side of him.

"Is that...the Bloodletter?" asked the Hound Master to his sneaking companion. The hound gave a timid whimper.

The Bloodletter and his posse surrounded the lone figure, who tried to bolt past them, squirming and shrieking. The Thug threw him back down and gave him a crack across the face. The Cutthroat kicked at him, while the looming man lumbered off into the Darkness again. The two others cackled with glee before following him off. The figure on the ground moaned in pain. He had been struck nearly dead. All it would take was a final blow...

But another figure was sneaking into the area. The Hound Master stayed crouched, afeared at what beast may linger behind to get the scraps. The newcomer leaned over the wounded figure, mumbling a few incantations, before rushing back towards the camp.

The Hound Master stayed still as his target got up and limped away. He was just about to turn back, having seen much more than he expected, when his hound yelped in pain. He wheeled about and was staring at a face of evil. The Necromancer! The monster's minions had taken hold of his hound.

The foul breath of the monster nearly made him gag, but he glared at the hole where its face was hidden in pitch blackness.

"Get on with it, you sick f-"

He was thrown from behind the pillar and crashed into another, toppling it over. Mortality clarified in a single strike! He got up, unsheathing his blade, but a sudden shout from behind him and an arrow whizzing past his head and against the cobbles let him know that now was his moment to flee.

The Arbalist took aim at the Necromancer and fired another arrow, which struck the monster. It shrieked a piercing sound and flew off into the Darkness, as its minions dropped the hound and followed behind. The Hound Master recognized the limp of one of the fleeing minions as he bolted back, as fast as possible, to the camp, alongside his slightly hurt hound.

His savior had disappeared, but perhaps that was for the better. He slowed down to catch his breath, as the immediate threat was gone. His life had come very close to ending this day.

But his trouble wasn't over. A sudden, crushing pain greeted his knee as he fell to the ground again. As he rolled over, death itself faced him. The Shambler's long tongue was slithering like a snake as it tasted the air for the best bite of flesh. It snapped at him, biting three fingers off his left hand, before his hound barked and gnashed its own teeth at the beast.

The Shambler bounced off the human and began chasing after the hound, which was scurrying as fast as possible towards the light of the campfire.

"You stay away from my dog, you bastard creature!" He gave chase.

Back near the camp, the Grave Robber was uncovering what very little remained of Foxrally from a shallow, make-shift grave. She inspected the cloth and the blood.

"Interesting."

She pocketed the cloth and began to pull herself out of the grave when a chill ran down her spine. She swung her shovel around, but the Necromancer grasped at the handle, bending it.

"Leaveeee thisssss one to meeeee," whispered the monster. The Grave Robber stumbled back, before running as fast as possible to the light of the campfire.

The Necromancer collected the remaining chunks of flesh and blood and dirt, even those of which seeped into the soil, and consumed them. The strength inside the monster grew slightly from what remained.

"I neeeeeed more fleshhhhhh."

Back at camp, the Arbalist, Hound Master, and Grave Robber had returned, terror in their eyes and faces at what each had dealt with. Other Heroes had left camp that night, each pressing their own advantages and seeing what their work might do.

But a knocking and shouting at one of their barricades alerted them to human voices. Nine Villagers burst through the barricade, bloodied and weak. As they told it, they had decided to journey deeper into the Dungeon with the Heroes to stop the foulness from ruining their town once more. The Heroes pondered it for a time before finally accepting the newcomers in. More bodies was better than less, but not all of these new arrivals meant to bring the Light. Some...chose Darkness.

As most of them finally laid down to rest, the oinking of Swines echoed through the Darkness as they stomped their hooves into their target, who ran in terror back to camp, having gotten lost in the Dungeon.

THE DAMAGE

THE GAMEPLAY​

THE PLAYERS​