Prologue
The copyright for Monster Girl Encyclopedia is held by Kurobinega and Kenkou Cros Red Hook Studios is the rightful owner of the Darkest Dungeon series
"Success so clearly in view... or is it merely a trick of the light"
-The Ancestor
My boots met the wet mud with a dull splash as I made my way towards the edge of the hamlet. There was a seemingly important delivery waiting for me there. It was so important, in fact, that it was 'for my hands only'.
As I arrived, the mad grin of the stagecoach driver greeted me, motioning over to the back side of his carriage. Following his gesture, I discovered an odd sight—a boy no older than 19 with shaking eyes and slumped shoulders.
"Well, boy, where is it? Or am I to stand here till nightfall?"
My comment broke the lad out of his stupor as he reached for a few items: a key, a note, and a tome bound in heavy chains. Quickly, he shoved the items into my hands before running back into the carriage as if his life depended on it. I won't fault the boy for running or for being scared; the road here is haunted, after all. But I will judge him for his blatant lack of manners.
I opened the heavy-set door into the main hall of the tavern. Many faces greeted me; some nodded to me, while others ignored my presence altogether. There seemed to be a game of 'Kings and Fools' at one of the head tables, and some were retreating to the second floor to enjoy more than normal stress relief. However, when one looked at the residents of this tavern, one wouldn't see vagabonds or greenhorns. No, each and every member seated here was a professional, forged by the long... long years of diving the depths of my estate and discovering its dark secrets. This experience reflected in the quality of their arms and armour.
Up the first and second flights of stairs, at the end of the almost unnaturally long hallway, behind an oak door, I sat at my desk. My study was filled with all manner of trinkets and baubles, most paid for in blood. A heavy grandfather clock sat towards the northern wall, and the little space I could dedicate to casual reading materials was relegated to the shelf above it. My desk sat to the east, under the now closed window. Clearing up the mess of documents was going to take a while, but today I had only one short but important speech to give, so I allowed myself some time to house-keep. "A clean desk leads to a clean mind," as the saying goes.
When the clock struck for the fourth time today, as the sun began to set, I looked at my now cleaner room. Neat rows of documents filled the upper portions of my desk, and a warm cup of tea sat at its front. Deciding to reach for the letter, I sliced it open and read its contents aloud.
I do hope that this missive, finds you amidst the ethereal haze of survival and strength. Whispers of your valorous endeavours have traversed treacherous lands, reaching the towering spires of the capital and beyond, piercing the frozen heart of the northern borderlands, home to the enigmatic Black Counts. Yet, within this silence, three bleak winters have passed without word from you.
As I dip my quill into ink, memories of our final encounter claw at my conscience—a venomous exchange that echoed with my bitter ire, met by the searing anguish etched upon your countenance as I bade you to depart. But let it be known, my dear comrade, that no apology drips from my pen. You, who held wisdom beyond your years, possessed a mind ablaze with brilliance and an insatiable hunger for knowledge that propelled us to uncharted realms. Nay, to beg forgiveness would be a feeble insult to your indomitable spirit.
Instead, I dispatched my most promising disciple, burdened with a token of camaraderie. A gift, it may yet hold purpose for one ensnared within your perilous predicament. The tome, its pages shrouded in enigma, awaits your gaze. Though time has withheld from me the chance to unveil its secrets fully, it promises a compendium of creatures both mundane and born of myth—a meticulous guide to navigate the perilous realm of beasts. Mayhaps, even in its partial elucidation, it shall prove of minor solace to you, my stalwart companion.
With utmost reverence, I remain,
Professor Wayne.J"
Drivel dripped in satire and high speech, even to the extent that the "Enigmatic Black Counts" would not employ in their most drunken of times. This was... not just good, but great. The professor's apology was something I needed desperately, for it brought a smile to my face. And the tome, oh, it certainly was of use. The man would not traumatize his "most promising disciple" on my behalf.
As I reach for the tome, a knock at my door banishes my thoughts. "Come in," I say, slightly annoyed. The door swings open slightly, and I hear a voice muffled by thick leather. "Boss, listen, I've got most of the men here," rude and tired, as most of my men are, but effective.
Looking around, I begin dressing myself for the upcoming speech. A long, ornate coat drapes around me, dyed in rich, deep colours and adorned with swirling motifs and intricate embroidery that depict ancient symbols and occult themes. The fabric exudes the utmost quality, displaying a subtle sheen that captures the scant candlelight. Beneath the coat, a meticulously pressed high-collared shirt, pristine and white, peeks through the opening. It is fastened with a gold brooch or button, symbolizing the esteemed status and wealth of my predecessor. Small golden cuffs, similarly embellished with understated luxury, emerge from beneath the coat sleeves. As for my lower garments, I have chosen a pair of well-tailored trousers crafted from a dark fabric. To complete this ensemble, I have opted to replace my walking shoes with sturdy leather boots that extend up to my calves.
As i exist my room the smell of sweat and salt assaults my nose, it seems some of my hired hands have finally finished there 'relaxing stay' at the second floor. "soon this will all be over soon" i think to myself as i make my way down to the ground floor.
"Gather, brave souls, for within these hallowed halls of the ancestral manor, we stand at the precipice of triumph over the encroaching darkness. From the depths of the abyss, my ancestor unleashed the very shadows that sought to consume us all. Now, it is our responsibility to rise and banish the darkness that festers within these this relentless pursuit of light, we find ourselves tested and pushed to our limits. But know this: within each of you lies the spark of resilience, the unyielding spirit that refuses to be shackled by fear or despair. It is this indomitable will that will guide us through the darkest of nights and illuminate our path to , we are not mere victims of fate, but architects of our own destiny. The darkness may whisper and taunts, seeking to sow doubt and breed terror, but we didn't not waver. For we are the chosen few, bound by a shared purpose, and fortified by the knowledge that our sacrifices pave the way for a brighter us rally together, united as one, for the light that burns within us is stronger than any force that would seek to snuff it out. Our swords shall cleave through the blackest of shadows, our courage will be a beacon to guide us, and our hearts shall shield us from the horrors that lie in not underestimate the power of camaraderie, for it is the balm that soothes our wounds and bolsters our spirits. In the face of unimaginable horrors, we find solace in the knowledge that we are not alone. Together, we shall push back the tides of darkness, step by arduous step, until the manor is once again bathed in the radiant glow of hope."
As the echoes of my speech reverberated through the air, a sea of battle-hardened mercenaries stands before me, their eyes alight with a fiery resolve. They listened, their hearts stirred by the call to banish the darkness that plagued the manor. And now, in response, they raised their voices responding in decedent mess one after the other:
"Form, our leader and guide, we stand united, a brotherhood of mercenaries bound by honour and gold. The darkness may be formidable, but so are we! We have faced countless horrors, stared death in the face, and emerged victorious.
"For honour, for glory, for the light that binds us, we march forth."
"We are the Flame!", they cry, "And Darkness fears us!"
"These nightmarish creatures can be felled! They can be beaten!"
"Now sit, rest, eat in a few minuets we shall plan and soon after this nightmare will be over"
Five tables were pulled together, with four teams of legends assembled. Many more mercenaries were currently sitting at the bar, enjoying the last drinks still in the barrels. Trinkets and baubles littered the table, from odd masks to the gifted tome. "So, you four will be our trailblazers," the heir said, "then we plan to use this device to send in reinforcements. Which would be your group, Barristan? Now, as for trinkets, take whatever you need, including from the newly finished collection of my ancestors' belongings." The heir placed two briefcases on the table and was about to open them when their attention was drawn to a noise at the edge of the table. A certain member of the heir's hamlet, a trueborn demoness, was staring oddly at the newly acquired tome. How the key from the heir's pocket got into her hands was anyone's guess. "Sariel, what are you doing?" The demoness ignored the heir's question as she pulled the key closer. "Sariel, this is an order. Drop the book." The surrounding mercenaries dropped their mugs, while others started slowly approaching the demoness, most not trusting the creature from the start anyway, and now something was wrong with her. "Sar..."
2 seconds elapsed, and an abrupt and jarring tremor reverberated through the entirety of the tavern. Startled, numerous patrons instinctively leaped to their feet, brandishing their weapons in a display of primal readiness, their eyes fixated on the deamon.
After a mere 6 seconds, a soft, eerie giggle permeated the air, distinct from the maniacal cackles that had become all too familiar. This laughter possessed a subtle, feminine allure, almost seductive in nature, causing an unsettling ripple of unease to ripple through the gathering.
As the count reached 10 seconds, a viscous, ebony ink began oozing relentlessly from every crevice in the aged woodwork and even from the confines of hapless drinking vessels. Chaos ensued as a frenzy of mercenaries frantically dashed towards either the heir or the nearest exit.
15 seconds, That day the Heir escaped the ruin that has come upon his family.
Dismass fought to open his eyes, yet his entire body seemed to be immobilized, not in pain, but trapped in a state of near-paralysis.
"Ooh, look here. This one is quite handsome," he heard a female voice emanating from his right. "I'll let you have this one. I smell more over that way," another voice, noticeably different yet still feminine, remarked. As Dismass, now able to move, opened his eyes, he couldn't help but gawk. A woman now stood in front of him, framed by a lush forest and bathed in the gentle glow of the rising sun. She was... beautiful. How else could one describe her perfectly shaped chest, the clean, slightly tanned face, and those visible abs?
She approached, noticing his apparent consciousness. "Well, well, well, at least I don't have to wake you up, husband." Dismass's head felt light, almost liberated—free from the nightmares, free from that accursed estate. He felt as if he had entered heaven, a realm he had dismissed as mere fantasy. But this was not his first encounter with deceptive beauty. Slowly, he began to back away, his hands instinctively searching for his firearm or even his dagger.
"Why run? I promise it will feel amazing, darling," she cooed, revealing additional features concealed by her clothing—odd adornments covering her arms and legs, and the presence of two dog-like ears and a tail.
Backing up against a tree, Dismass moved cautiously, only to realize his dagger was still securely fastened on the back side of his belt. It was in the fleeting moment when she was nearly upon him, hovering over his lap, ready to claim his mouth, that he swiftly drew his dagger and stabbed her directly through the left ear, piercing her brain.
"This kind of horror is new to me"
"... Fuck"
Hey guys, this is my first fanfiction, and I've decided to pair Darkest Dungeon (one of my favourite games of all time) with Monster Girl Encyclopedia. Now, I do know this sounds like I spent 5 hours in the cove, but honestly, I don't care. This has been eating away at me since I started replaying my third run (with a LOT of mods).
This piece will mainly feature the misadventures of four teams (based on my current best parties) in the world of MGE. Maybe I'll include the heirs too, but that's for the future to see. Plus, some solo one-shot chapters like the Leaper and Occultist. Anyways, please critique this as it is my first time writing something more than a letter for DnD, and I would love some feedback.
P.S. The next chapter is going to be about our favourite regular suspects on both sides of the coin ;)