These are just a collection of drabbles based on Darkest Dungeon. I started playing the game recently and got inspired to write a little bit about it. Could feature any of the classes. Not sure how this'll turn out but I think it'll be fun to write.
I'll try to not focus too much on one class but I do have my favorites lol.
...
1.
Sarmenti finished the last of his beer and pointed, a bit rudely, at the bandana, "And so what does Dismas keep under la stoffa?"
"He doesn't want to show us. There's a horrible scar under there, no doubt," Audrey took a drag of tobacco from her pipe, smoke billowing around her hands, "Oh, don't look at me like that, darling, I know the top half of your face is gorgeous."
Dismas sighed, "I... I just like to keep it on when I'm movin' out and about."
"So when we return to the Hamlet...?"
He rolled his eyes, "Nah, I wear it all the time. Don't even brush my teeth."
"This reminds me - a few hours ago, I did say it was difficult to know if you were making a joke," Sarmenti rested his face in his palm, twirling around one of the bells on his hat.
"It's a, uh, what you call a vicious cycle," Dismas' eyes crinkled as though he were smiling, "Longer I go neglectin' to brush my teeth, the more I have to wear the bandana. At this point I'm bein' considerate to all of you. You're welcome," he rolled onto his side, away from the fire.
"Oh no, you will sleep with it?" Sarmenti giggled.
"Saves time."
Audrey laid back onto her mat, catching a glimpse of the stars through the thicket of trees, "Go on then, we're not judging you."
A pause. Just long enough to think he might've been serious.
Dismas pulled off the bandana and let if fall just over his shoulder. Safely within reach.
...
2.
The Three of Swords. Heartbreak. Grief. Guilt. Impending judgment. Josephine frowned and reached over the Tarot spread for Dr. Alhazred's palm, "The Three of Swords is an... interesting... card," she murmured, "It means you're undergoing some sort of internal change."
Josephine smiled. It was false but the Siren's song echoed all around them. No doubt they had a real fight tomorrow.
"I can't read your lifeline if your hand keeps shaking, Doctor."
...
3.
Junia flipped through her brown book, thumb brushing down the silver-plated spine, "Verse XIX-"
Dismas groaned.
"Let me finish, damn it," she snapped.
"Ooh, hard language. What d'ya think, Reynauld? She didn't take the Light's name in vain but I'm pretty good'n sure that counts as a frivolous use of Damnation."
Reynauld looked up and said nothing. The two had been butting heads all day and he didn't want anything to do with it.
"I'm trying to help you," Junia spat.
"Sorry to fuck up your soul quota, but ya can't and ya won't," Dismas sat in the shocked silence and knew he couldn't end it at that. It was getting pitch black. They weren't even half-way done with scouting the place, let alone sending every shambling corpse to the abyss. And Junia. Junia looked stricken. "Look... I'm... sorry. But ya don't even know the half of what I done. We're just not comin' from the same place."
"Everyone's a sinner," Junia shut her book, "Don't drink too much tonight. We'll need a steady pistol arm."
...
4.
The wound festered - under the bandage, Bigby's shoulder was swollen, inflamed, stinking.
As unusual as the man looked and smelled, Paracelsus was furious with himself for missing such obvious signs of infection. Even a second or third glance and he might've realized it soon enough to keep it from getting this horrible. Somehow Bigby betrayed no pain or distress.
"On a scale of one to ten," Paracelsus gently prodded the skin near the scratch - just a surface level scratch, a graze of the skin, so mild at first examination! "How much does it hurt?"
Bigby didn't react. He kept staring at his hands, his reddened, scaly hands.
Paracelsus suspected nerve damage. They might have to turn back.
"It's agony," he said quietly.
"I actually have to cut into you now. Why didn't you say something?"
"Worry not. I won't die," Bigby folded his arms across his chest and leaned forward, stretching the skin around the cut, "It's what a creature such as I deserves."
Paracelcus readied his scalpel, "Infection doesn't pick people who deserve it," he sighed, "If you do deserve it, the only reason is that you could've let me know it needed more attention. I even - I even asked you! You said it was fine!" The Doctor took a deep breath beneath his thick mask, "No. It's my fault. Even the mildest of wounds can fester. I'm sorry, Bigby."
"Don't apologize to me," he murmured.
"Well then, I'm sorry Bigby's flesh. Boudica, got any whisky back there?"
...
5.
Fergus had coarse fur. Not silky or soft or fluffy. Coarse and short. Still, Dr. Alhazred hesitantly scratched the hound behind the ears. "He's quite docile, Willam," he said quietly, "How can such a vicious animal be so polite?"
"That's all training," Willam absentmindedly took a paw into his hand - the dog snored.
"What is his nature then? To be docile? Or vicious?"
"Come on, you've been around a dog before. I mean, back home, there were dogs, right Doc?"
Alhazred paused, "They mostly roamed around looking for trash heaps to scavenge. Keeping them so close would be like... taking in a squirrel."
"Squirrels ain't so bad," Willam huffed.
"They carry diseases. Though... I suppose I wouldn't mind holding a tame squirrel," Alhazred was just about the relax when the dog snapped to attention, some noise causing his ears to flatten and his mouth to curl back, revealing the same sharp teeth that tore apart a giant spider the night before.
...
6.
"Alright, sweetheart, you're going to have to look at me," the shadows inched closer and closer yet Audrey didn't dare move her. She lit up another torch and drove it into the ground. Josephine wouldn't stop shaking. It made her wounds worse. "Alright, that's good - just like that. Now listen up."
Josephine's grip on Audrey's wrist faltered.
"Any minute now, and I mean it this time, Junia is going to get here. Junia. You know her. Our friend with the -" Audrey cursed and threw a dart at a tentacle creeping up towards Josephine's left arm, almost severed at the shoulder, "That magic light. She's gonna fix you right up, sweetheart."
"B-Barri-s-s...?"
"He'll be here, too," Audrey tightened the shawl protecting what was left of Josephine's arm, "Any minute now, sweetheart, any minute."
...
7.
Dismas stood in the doorway, arms folded, "Mornin'."
"Go away," Reynauld pulled the blanket up to his chin.
"Oh for fuck's sake, it's his goddamn funeral today," Dismas snapped, his hands rolled into trembling fists, "You liked him."
Reynauld was silent.
Dismas huffed but he didn't bother to pull back the curtains this time, "This is... it's... god I can't even put a word to it. It's almost been a week, a week, seven days in this..." he trailed off as he looked around, "Room? Feh. More like a closet," he kicked a pair of boots across the floor, "Aren't ya gettin' tired? Tired of sittin' here in the dark?"
No response.
"I saw him die, too. And I..." he ran a hand over his face, "I can't go and do it alone. Everyone's gonna stop'n ask me where you been. What am I s'posed to say? You tell me, Holy Warrior of Light, what I'm s'posed to say in your place."
For a moment, Dismas thought he'd get nothing but silence again and was ready to pull the man out of bed himself.
Instead, Reynauld sat up. His hair was greasy, unkempt. "The moment before he perished."
"What?"
"He said he was being taken away by the darkness-"
"Dyin' men say lots of things, Reynauld! It doesn't mean shit! It doesn't mean anythin'! It's..." Dismas sighed. His voice was getting shaky. The fire burning him up inside was gone, "All the more reason to go 'n mourn him, anyways. At least pour out a drink over the grave."
..
End Chapter 1
Let me know if you have any thoughts, where I could improve or if I've been inaccurate or haven't quite captured the spirit of the original material, etc... I welcome any and all criticism. Anyways, if you enjoyed it, I also like to know particular parts you really liked - that can help pinpoint what to work on replicating or give focus to later on.