Darkest Dungeon: FRC Version

The Hamlet. A once thriving place, a center of trade, commerce and living. There was once a time where there was no fear of the horrors that waited below. A time where deliveries transported by seas had some amount of safety, where forests housed more than beasts and bandits.

Those times are gone.

Now, the Hamlet is filled with mercenaries, fueled by the thrill of the hunt, the promise of payment. The entire village has been converted from a simple trading outpost to a war post. To the north is the Abbey, a place of worship, a place of penance, a shimmer of spiritual hope in a world of darkness. In the west, the Sanitarium, a place to start diseases and other... problematic behavior. Taverns and Brothels in the far west provide a strong drink, a game of chance, and companionship; the rush of life. Blacksmiths, merchants and grave diggers in the east find that work is never in short supply, as a seemingly endless stream of heroes arrive, all seeking fame and glory in the shadow of the Darkest Dungeon.

Among the many mercenaries hired to defend the village was a man named Erick. A war-hardened veteran that still dons the dark green armor suit he recovered from his first expedition against the infernal beasts from the dungeons. Despite being armed with only a mace, and having the raw strength of youth spent, Erick still manages to fulfill his main mission: Rip and Tear.

Erick began to walk towards the east exit of the Hamlet, looking over his shoulder. "Everyone, in formation!" he bellowed. At the sound of his call, a small figure could be made out running out of the Tavern. As the figure slowly grew larger, Erick could make out who it was... and put his face into the palm of his free hand. Of course, this man was known only as Aether. Aether was a man of a smaller stature, most of it being hidden in his padded overcoat lined with fur. In his hands, he held a simple pistol in his left, a small red dagger with a glass hole in the middle in the right hand.

"You called?" Aether asked, panting through his dark blue bandana.

"Yes, well uh, our unit's been picked to take care of some monster in the Ruins, well, you know. Have you seen the others?"

As if on cue, a person wearing only a purple robe, a mask with the beak of a bird and a purple top hat with an eye slightly visible walked out of the armory and towards the group. This person was Shadow, the Plague Doctor. Armed to the teeth with potions, baubles and a small knife, the doctor came to the call of the Hamlet not for money or fame, but to test their potions. And what better laboratory than the blood-soaked battlefield?

"Sorry, got a little too into my experiments, RIP." they said, giggling as Aether and Erick gave Shadow a quizzical look. "Wait... where's the fourth guy?"

"Guy and hound." The three warriors turned to see Scooter walking toward them. To his side was his ever-faithful hound, C-Monkey. Scooter was an older veteran, slightly younger than Erick. His green chestplate and red scarf matched his fair blonde hair and beard. One hand held a blackjack, not unlike those used by the police, the other gently petting C-Monkey. C-Monkey was a thin brown-furred hound with very unkempt fur. A lawman and his faithful beast - a bond forged by battle.

"Oh, hey Scooter," Aether greeted. "How's your dog, uh... C-Turtle?" He giggled, and was rewarded with a strong backhand. "I was a little kid when I named her!" Scooter replied, keeping his growling hound from tearing Aether limb from limb.

"Enough fooling around. We have a job to do." Erick said in a monotone voice. He led the way as the party stocked up on firewood, rations, bandages and torches. Aether and Shadow stayed in the back as Scooter and Erick led the way, marching towards gold, glory, skeletons, and insanity.

-Chapter 1 End-