Post by Unter on May 4, 2018 10:50:00 GMT -8
Darkest Hour
"Once again the stars were right. Deep, thunderous tones rouse from the door of the Darkest Dungeon, and cultist prepared the terrible machines, half steel half flesh, that flowed through the gargantuan pillars. As the last party of sturdy heroes ventured into the depths of Hell, the World witnessed the Beginning of the End through their eyes. They were the flame, and darkness feared them. But they were but moths, and every last of them flew in absolute terror or were cut down. Soon after, a flash of the purest of white smashed the terrible Door, and Hell followed with it."
Alright. So, after the inconvenience that assured the end of the first AU of this kind (Reversed Creation by the famous Relentless, may he live forever), I decided to take on the mantle of Holy DMing to pull this RP from the grasp of abandonment. But at my sauce! So take a seat, and embrace the despair that is the Darkest Hour of the Darkest Dungeon.
This AU is depicted as a Darkest Dungeon Survival theme, where the roles have been switched in this alternate timeline. The Heart of Darkness has burst open, killing itself in the process, but unleashing its spawn upon the Hamlet. Where the manor stood, only an ever growing tumor of flesh and stone can be seen, and the hell that surrounded the Hamlet is but a peaceful dream compared to the Chaos that roams across the Land.
The Manor's explosion was small and at the same time monumental. It wasn't really a standard black powder ignition, the stones shifted around a growing force, and it exploded vomiting a flow of malevolent energy toward the sky. These energies dispersed into the atmosphere around the globe, but the worst of it stays into the Hamlet. "Shitstorms", as a local mercenary called them because of the horrid odor that they released upon impact, are a manifestation of these energies falling back on the surface of Earth. Projectiles of various shape hit the ground with different force : Some have the effect of a raindrop, the other will crush even the most resilient castle into dust. This explosion is what caused the nearby nation, and ultimately the whole world, to turn its attention to the Darkest Estate. They sent scouts, soldiers and even full military expeditions only to be met with total failure, with barely enough survivors to tell the tale of what happened. This ensured into a quick decisions : The dominant nations of the whole world were to assemble their mighty armies and sweep through the Estate in a quick blown. But the organisation and the assembling of such a powerful military ost took a long time, and so the nearby countries decided to quarantine the whole area with flesh and steel. Nothing can go in or out, for you can't trust even a human looking creature to go outside.
Outside has become like a dream for the survivors of the Hamlet's events. "Disaster" would be a better name. The inhabitants of the Hamlet were used of monsters incursions into their domain, and the mercenaries were always able to push every assault back. But when the Manor exploded, everything changed. The "shitstorms" obliterated the Hamlet's defenses, and the creatures that normally stayed in their territories, undead from the ruins, blight ridden monsters from the Weald, the fish folk from the Cove, and the pigmen from the Warrens, all flocked to assault the defenseless town. It was a massacre. Only a quick sally out, lead by the Heir and some of the most Elite mercenary of the Estate managed to save a small fraction of the inhabitants. They fled through hardships, disease and strife to the most reclusive tunnels of the Cove, and they managed to establish a small camp in a somewhat vast cavern. They were quickly put to work by the Heir, barricades, traps, food supply chains, sally gates for expeditions, everything was ready in a matter of months.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Estate was shifting. The entity that drove the Fishfolk out of reach of deep waters didn't seem to care about their well being, and they all died from lack of salt. New kinds of monsters seemed to appear from nowhere: The entity was interested in Creation through Destruction, salvaging the dead flesh of monsters and men to create new destructive abominations. Hordes and hordes of beasts, not one looking like the other, go out on their business, but there seems to be a hierarchy in their chaos.
The dumbest of beasts are merely a nuisance, a multiple toothed with sharp claws nuisance. Every single one of their features seems evolved for killing and ripping flesh appart, but they aren't intelligent at all, and it seems they have trouble doing anything short of killing. Pits of flesh monstrosities fighting each other can be found pretty much everywhere in the Estate, and only the methodical "cleaning up" of the mercenaries stopped them from overwhelming the Cove. They are formed from the corpses of the Fallen, and so they retain their features. Bones, pigflesh, manflesh and fishfolk scales can be found in rough patches on their body, and this is surely their strongest feature.
Then, there are the beasts that were created from the undead of the Ruins. It looks like something a child would draw if they were told to make something spooky. They all walk in order, seemingly linked by something far greater than anything ever witnessed in the former Undead. Some are just fused bones, with multiples arms and head, clawing with the cold grace of dead bones. They are slow and easy to shatter with pretty much every weapon, but they are relentless and they need to be ground to dust to be truely killed. Even a skull left might roll to an innocent leg and chew through sinew and bone. Other are somewhat similar to the former undead, for they retained some kind of... humanity. They still wear clothes and armour, and they seem to "talk" between each other. Cold "hak hak ka ka hak hak" that instills fear into the bravest of minds. They are more intelligent, stronger in skill of arms and more resilient than what they would surely call the "peons" of their army. And so, they are the leaders of the Undead Horde.
Perhaps the most terrible part of this hellish army are the creatures salvaged from the humans of the Hamlet. They retained their intelligence and their muscles memory, but their form was horribly twisted. They were fused with whatever was nearby : Part skeleton, part human abominations are nearly as common as random animal with the corpse of a human, like the mythology of old. They are perhaps the most easily scared of the lot, on a scale were Skeletons don't sense fear and the beast are just too dumb to know that, but if driven by a Herald, they will fight to the End. The fact that a face might be a loved one is sometimes too much to bear, and a swift death -soon followed by a swift "rearrangement"- is sometimes preferable to this kind of psychological suffering.
But then, from the deepest depths of the Darkest Dungeon, a new monster was created. They are towering constructs of flesh, each different from one another. When the Hamlet was assaulted, they showed themselves. They are twelve, each a manifestation of the Heart's will, and they will do anything to bring their Salvation to the whole world. Nobody saw them too close, and so nobody knows what they look like. Everyone just knows the noise. The terrible noise that accompanies them everytime. It seems to gnaws at the back of your head, a soft yet hard as steel sound that emanates constantly from their body. And at the fall of the Hamlet, some understood the purpose of this sound. These towering beasts were giving commands to the endless hordes that pillaged and murdered through the inhabitants of the Hamlet. And despite the biggest efforts from the Heir to stop this, he didn't like the prophetic sound to this, the survivors gave them a name : The Heralds.
In the Camp.
Life in the Camp is difficult. A slight beam of sunlight oozes from a crack in the cave that became the survivors' only refuge, the only source of Light that the Heir dares use in the day. Torches gives smoke, and in this tight place they would just kill themselves. The only thing that saved them from living huddled together, like rats in a maze, was that little beam of sun, that reflected along the cave walls and dispelled the darkness a little bit. They didn't live in complete darkness, and their eyes surely were used to it now, but life in the camp was difficult.
[Map is going to come soon! Just remember that there are 6 exits : Two are large tunnels that represents the major entry to the cave : They are heavily barricaded and trapped, and sentries are out at every hour to signal a coming of monsters. Two others are dug by the survivors, and they serve as sally gates to gather food, material, anything that could help them survive. Two other tunnels are completely blocked, but something with enough force might break through.]
Trade in the camp is reduced to the most basic definition of it. Anything than can help survive is traded against another thing that can help survive. Some still accepts gold, but they become rarer and rarer each day, as the hope that they would one day return to civilisation disappear. Some will fend out for themselves, but the Heir tries his best to keep things civil, united, and that everyone helps another.
For the Heir needs to keep everyone sane, healthy, so that they can fulfill they role in the Camp. They are the following :
-Guard [Tries to keep the peace in the camp, defenders of the Camp in case of an attack.]
-Scouts [They are the frontline of the Camp. Sentries, tunnel dweller, expeditions for materials, everything out is their business.]
-Doctor/Battlefield Medic [They serve for the well being of civil and military personnel.]
-Craftsman ["Engineers", they are the lifeblood of the Camp. They make everything useful, from weapon to tents, from food to traps, from powder to arrows.]
-Hunters [Different from the scout, they specialize in keeping the food supplies up.]
Of course, keep in mind that these "roles" are just a basic summary of your characters Skills. A guard can be a scout, as well as a craftsman can be a hunter. Flexibility is key, but every single one of these roles are needed. Try to keep a balance between support and the frontline, or else the monsters will be the least of the Camp's problems.
As for the characters, they can be of any class except the flagellant or the abomination. I won't put a class limit, so I trust the players to go for diversity. It's totally possible that more than one crusader, plague doctor or anything else survived, but let's not have a camp of the same thing. Of course, your character is not forced to be put in a class. As long as he can be useful to the Camp, the Heir will be happy.
Characters :
So now, here is the CS Template, remember that every single one of them are seasoned members of the Estate. They are all level 6, with every benefits and inconvenient that ensured.
This AU is depicted as a Darkest Dungeon Survival theme, where the roles have been switched in this alternate timeline. The Heart of Darkness has burst open, killing itself in the process, but unleashing its spawn upon the Hamlet. Where the manor stood, only an ever growing tumor of flesh and stone can be seen, and the hell that surrounded the Hamlet is but a peaceful dream compared to the Chaos that roams across the Land.
The Manor's explosion was small and at the same time monumental. It wasn't really a standard black powder ignition, the stones shifted around a growing force, and it exploded vomiting a flow of malevolent energy toward the sky. These energies dispersed into the atmosphere around the globe, but the worst of it stays into the Hamlet. "Shitstorms", as a local mercenary called them because of the horrid odor that they released upon impact, are a manifestation of these energies falling back on the surface of Earth. Projectiles of various shape hit the ground with different force : Some have the effect of a raindrop, the other will crush even the most resilient castle into dust. This explosion is what caused the nearby nation, and ultimately the whole world, to turn its attention to the Darkest Estate. They sent scouts, soldiers and even full military expeditions only to be met with total failure, with barely enough survivors to tell the tale of what happened. This ensured into a quick decisions : The dominant nations of the whole world were to assemble their mighty armies and sweep through the Estate in a quick blown. But the organisation and the assembling of such a powerful military ost took a long time, and so the nearby countries decided to quarantine the whole area with flesh and steel. Nothing can go in or out, for you can't trust even a human looking creature to go outside.
Outside has become like a dream for the survivors of the Hamlet's events. "Disaster" would be a better name. The inhabitants of the Hamlet were used of monsters incursions into their domain, and the mercenaries were always able to push every assault back. But when the Manor exploded, everything changed. The "shitstorms" obliterated the Hamlet's defenses, and the creatures that normally stayed in their territories, undead from the ruins, blight ridden monsters from the Weald, the fish folk from the Cove, and the pigmen from the Warrens, all flocked to assault the defenseless town. It was a massacre. Only a quick sally out, lead by the Heir and some of the most Elite mercenary of the Estate managed to save a small fraction of the inhabitants. They fled through hardships, disease and strife to the most reclusive tunnels of the Cove, and they managed to establish a small camp in a somewhat vast cavern. They were quickly put to work by the Heir, barricades, traps, food supply chains, sally gates for expeditions, everything was ready in a matter of months.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Estate was shifting. The entity that drove the Fishfolk out of reach of deep waters didn't seem to care about their well being, and they all died from lack of salt. New kinds of monsters seemed to appear from nowhere: The entity was interested in Creation through Destruction, salvaging the dead flesh of monsters and men to create new destructive abominations. Hordes and hordes of beasts, not one looking like the other, go out on their business, but there seems to be a hierarchy in their chaos.
The dumbest of beasts are merely a nuisance, a multiple toothed with sharp claws nuisance. Every single one of their features seems evolved for killing and ripping flesh appart, but they aren't intelligent at all, and it seems they have trouble doing anything short of killing. Pits of flesh monstrosities fighting each other can be found pretty much everywhere in the Estate, and only the methodical "cleaning up" of the mercenaries stopped them from overwhelming the Cove. They are formed from the corpses of the Fallen, and so they retain their features. Bones, pigflesh, manflesh and fishfolk scales can be found in rough patches on their body, and this is surely their strongest feature.
Then, there are the beasts that were created from the undead of the Ruins. It looks like something a child would draw if they were told to make something spooky. They all walk in order, seemingly linked by something far greater than anything ever witnessed in the former Undead. Some are just fused bones, with multiples arms and head, clawing with the cold grace of dead bones. They are slow and easy to shatter with pretty much every weapon, but they are relentless and they need to be ground to dust to be truely killed. Even a skull left might roll to an innocent leg and chew through sinew and bone. Other are somewhat similar to the former undead, for they retained some kind of... humanity. They still wear clothes and armour, and they seem to "talk" between each other. Cold "hak hak ka ka hak hak" that instills fear into the bravest of minds. They are more intelligent, stronger in skill of arms and more resilient than what they would surely call the "peons" of their army. And so, they are the leaders of the Undead Horde.
Perhaps the most terrible part of this hellish army are the creatures salvaged from the humans of the Hamlet. They retained their intelligence and their muscles memory, but their form was horribly twisted. They were fused with whatever was nearby : Part skeleton, part human abominations are nearly as common as random animal with the corpse of a human, like the mythology of old. They are perhaps the most easily scared of the lot, on a scale were Skeletons don't sense fear and the beast are just too dumb to know that, but if driven by a Herald, they will fight to the End. The fact that a face might be a loved one is sometimes too much to bear, and a swift death -soon followed by a swift "rearrangement"- is sometimes preferable to this kind of psychological suffering.
But then, from the deepest depths of the Darkest Dungeon, a new monster was created. They are towering constructs of flesh, each different from one another. When the Hamlet was assaulted, they showed themselves. They are twelve, each a manifestation of the Heart's will, and they will do anything to bring their Salvation to the whole world. Nobody saw them too close, and so nobody knows what they look like. Everyone just knows the noise. The terrible noise that accompanies them everytime. It seems to gnaws at the back of your head, a soft yet hard as steel sound that emanates constantly from their body. And at the fall of the Hamlet, some understood the purpose of this sound. These towering beasts were giving commands to the endless hordes that pillaged and murdered through the inhabitants of the Hamlet. And despite the biggest efforts from the Heir to stop this, he didn't like the prophetic sound to this, the survivors gave them a name : The Heralds.
In the Camp.
Life in the Camp is difficult. A slight beam of sunlight oozes from a crack in the cave that became the survivors' only refuge, the only source of Light that the Heir dares use in the day. Torches gives smoke, and in this tight place they would just kill themselves. The only thing that saved them from living huddled together, like rats in a maze, was that little beam of sun, that reflected along the cave walls and dispelled the darkness a little bit. They didn't live in complete darkness, and their eyes surely were used to it now, but life in the camp was difficult.
[Map is going to come soon! Just remember that there are 6 exits : Two are large tunnels that represents the major entry to the cave : They are heavily barricaded and trapped, and sentries are out at every hour to signal a coming of monsters. Two others are dug by the survivors, and they serve as sally gates to gather food, material, anything that could help them survive. Two other tunnels are completely blocked, but something with enough force might break through.]
Trade in the camp is reduced to the most basic definition of it. Anything than can help survive is traded against another thing that can help survive. Some still accepts gold, but they become rarer and rarer each day, as the hope that they would one day return to civilisation disappear. Some will fend out for themselves, but the Heir tries his best to keep things civil, united, and that everyone helps another.
For the Heir needs to keep everyone sane, healthy, so that they can fulfill they role in the Camp. They are the following :
-Guard [Tries to keep the peace in the camp, defenders of the Camp in case of an attack.]
-Scouts [They are the frontline of the Camp. Sentries, tunnel dweller, expeditions for materials, everything out is their business.]
-Doctor/Battlefield Medic [They serve for the well being of civil and military personnel.]
-Craftsman ["Engineers", they are the lifeblood of the Camp. They make everything useful, from weapon to tents, from food to traps, from powder to arrows.]
-Hunters [Different from the scout, they specialize in keeping the food supplies up.]
Of course, keep in mind that these "roles" are just a basic summary of your characters Skills. A guard can be a scout, as well as a craftsman can be a hunter. Flexibility is key, but every single one of these roles are needed. Try to keep a balance between support and the frontline, or else the monsters will be the least of the Camp's problems.
As for the characters, they can be of any class except the flagellant or the abomination. I won't put a class limit, so I trust the players to go for diversity. It's totally possible that more than one crusader, plague doctor or anything else survived, but let's not have a camp of the same thing. Of course, your character is not forced to be put in a class. As long as he can be useful to the Camp, the Heir will be happy.
Characters :
So now, here is the CS Template, remember that every single one of them are seasoned members of the Estate. They are all level 6, with every benefits and inconvenient that ensured.
Name:
Sex:
Age:
Armour Description:
Attire:
Weapons:
Unique Detail?:
Inventory:
Sanity (What do they think about their situation right now ?)
Sex:
Age:
Armour Description:
Attire:
Weapons:
Unique Detail?:
Inventory:
Sanity (What do they think about their situation right now ?)
