#vvulf event
Audio
#darkest dungeon#vgbossthemes#i was wondering wether nor not to upload it since its an event rather than just the boss battle but whatever its literally my favorite song#in the whole game#woe vvulf upon thee
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In the wolf’s den
The Hamlet manages to repel Vvulf’s raid. However, the retreating brigands take hostages to protect themselves. The remaining heroes must now put together a rescue mission before it’s too late.
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I do want to draw more HCs but have been playing Kenshi lately (it reminds me so much of old Fallout!!) 🥲
But! Will decide to sort of briefly write it here, it's about Dismas before the events of Darkest Dungeon 1.
15 years ago he rose up to become a bandit chief around the area, the Gutter Rats as the thieves call it. Thing is, that was Vvulf and his Wolves' turf too, and there was a gang war.
Funniest thing is that the D-man never carried about the power or influence but rogues flocked to him because he was just too damn good at robbing and killing.
Also in that 5 years of gang war (before a delicate balance of peace was achieved) Dismas kind of like, showed a bizarre talent for tactical strategy, it's the main reason how the Gutter Rats kept alive so long with the smaller size of influence they control
It did carry over to how he manages the Hamlet and their civilians and heroes, just one of the strange skills Reynauld notices he has
#donoramble#eventually the Gutter Rats fought against a merc group led by a certain runaway knight#They all got trashed up and that's when Dismas left being bandit chief--he's had it with big groups and underbelly politics#But the Gutter Rats also took all of the knights down#It was the brink of a new military tech revolution where guns are the new swords#That's when Reynauld understood#With dying comrade in arm#That he could be one of the last knights
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Dismas, I think we might have going of the wrong foot here. While it true that we have might have highlighted bad parts that happen in our previous life, but that not full picture.
It is true that in your previous life a lot of traumatic things happened you during you stay at the State, either through happenstance, series of unfortunate events or bad leadership skills of Lady Selemina. And it was true that the State and surrounding lands that Lady Selemina inherited was turn in a nightmare infested hellhole thanks her no-good grandfather, who in his stupidly and thirst for forbidden knowledge cause him to release an ancient evil that was better left alone, buried and forgotten. An ancient evil that would destroy the world if not left unchallenged.
But there were bright moments, happy moments, moments of bravery and courage that shine brightest even surround by darkness.
You Dismas were one of the first of the Dungeon Crew to be hired by Lady Selemina, and together with a kleptomaniac Crusader named Reynauld you travel to the Hamlet. After the Stagecoach crashed due mad driving of the State’s Caretaker, you and Reynauld were able to get yourself and Lady Selemina to of the wreckage unharmed. As you and Reynauld lead Lady Selemina down the Old Road towards the Hamlet, you were ambushed by a small group of brigands, who were led by a hulking brute of a Brigand Bloodletter, who happened to be the brother of Vvulf. While you and Reynauld able to deal with the Brigands and earning the wrath of Vvulf the notorious leader of the Brigand Brigade, you both lead Lady Selemina to the safety of Hamlet.
You and Reynauld become the unofficial leaders of the Dungeon Crew, a band of Heroes, Mercenaries, Fools and Misfits who came from distant cities and lands to Hamlet for different reasons. Some came to the Hamlet foolishly seeking fortune and glory, other seeking knowledge and answers, while others come to bring justice, seeking redemption or simply a purpose to exist.
Overtime, you become friends with many of the Dungeon Crew members, some would even say that you all become as close as family, and turning that small ruined Hamlet into a bastion against the darkness, a beacon of hope for the world.
Dismas, I know enough about your past to say that you are a man that made a lot of mistakes and lost a lot poeple that were close to you. But I also know your previous life in the Hamlet, I saw you becoming something more then just a Highwayman. You not only became a hero, but a man that was beloved by his friends and companions, who were as close to you as family and who stood side by side with you against the madness of the Darkest Dungeon.
You found happiness in your previous life, I hope that you find it once again in this life.
Dismas : "That's a lot in one go! Is that Lady Selemina the same woman that's going to drive us to the Mountain? Is that Reynauld guy coming too? That evil under the manor, did i really shoot it like Kainne said before...? I don't believe I have it in me to be a hero. But... I'd be happy if I can get somewhat of a good life this time around, too.
#tmcask#tmclore#darkest dungeon 2#a little reminder on the broad strokes of The Dungeon Crew storyline! :D#but please could we get shorter asks Finder? xD
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i love to think about the tiny things in dd. do u think the wolves at the door town event is caused by vvulf realizing his stakeout of the hamlet is unsustainable like with the ancestor no longer funneling supplies in 4 the basement dig and the isolatory nature of it making it impossible 2 both hold position and get supplies from elsewhere at the same time his brigand band begins to slowly starve out just as the hamlet does and its that pressure on him which finally pushes him 2 full on raid it. i think that could be interesting
#ingame it is triggered when u have 4 red rank mercenaries (which takes at least a Couple of weeks) and the chance slowly increases each--#--week w a town event after that condition is met. so it takes Time for him to show up which kind of lends credence 2 this silly idea lol#really interesting to think about how Long it takes for the heir to show up after the ancestor kills himself. how much worse has shit in--#--the estate gotten since there was nobody looking after it as a whole#if anyone has silly detail questions or ideas of their own....... [looks at you]#SORRY LOL i am just chatty right now. i love 2 think abt little things and how the effect the narrative like the motivations and shit u know
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@graveshot
Thunk, thunk. And a howl. The smell of fire wafted over the place like hot perfume, choking everything. The blitz of silver threw the wind right out of her words and pinned her into the ground. She cracked her arm into the cannon on the way down.
Tilly howled out of reflex, not pain. There wasn’t any pain. Not a damn scrap of it, even though her gut was bleeding right through her pants and leathers. Her hood was knocked off her head as she hit bottom, her baton whacking her in the face. Her group of seven looked about, dumbfounded, some trough iron visors, and some half dead, until the wailing of the townspeople drew them into alleys, already lit with flames. They scattered, save two that were skulking like zombies.
“Fuck-”
She rolled over, bracing herself against the ground to stand and slam the matchstick into the ground.
She pulled her hood back over her face.
It’s a woman in a fancy getup. Ugly as sin hat. She cracked her botefeux into the iron chasis of the cannon and it sounded like a gong.
“Oi- you think you’re funny, bitch?! I got enough shit for another nineteen shots and a rod to stuff up your cunt. Come on down- I got your knives!”
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“Sadie-”
Count your blessings. One, his heart was beating like a drum. The most alive he’d been in years. Two, he took back alleys and side streets. He ran into no brigands. Three..
Call like this, should you need help. Even if it is to dig graves.
He was thankful he taught her how to whistle like an insect, as the dust settled from another massive explosion. The sound carried down the street. Light watch over her. Light help her. Light help me serve you... Reynauld ran through the burning town. The dead were strung up on rooftops, left in the roads or on the walls. Burned bodies of brigands and townsfolk cast a smell over the entire Hamlet. Burning hair.
He’d be sick if he could spare the anxiety. He couldn’t.
His feet pounded the cracked pavement, and he ran through the skeletons of buildings. Chirped for her.
She didn’t respond, and the bubble of fear that had been settling in his blood-thick ribs grew.
“Sadie?” he chanced, whispering it into alleys and broken homes. No response. She was... supposed to be here.
By this bridge. He chirped again, and again listened. There were bodies strewn all over this place.
More burning hair. He shivered. A house by the bridge had caved in, and the broken cannon of the brigands sat there, abandoned. The smell grew, coming from the house, and he felt the bubble burst.
“Sadie... Sadie, tell me something else...” he murmured, ramming his shoulder into the fallen debris of the house. It cracked like matchsticks, and he tumbled into an inferno.
“Sadie?! Sarah?!”
Oh Light...
Reynauld staggered through the smoke and ash, coughing into his helm. His eyes burned. There was a pile of rubble in the room, broken ceiling and supports. He saw a fleck of gold streaking out of it, and all he smelled was blood.
He shrieked like a monster and sunk his plated hands into the burning mass. Threw everything in the way to the rickety ground. The world burned around him like Hell itself. He kept digging. His gloves caught flame.
She was there, under it all, bent backwards and entombed. Her arm was destroyed, her body, petrified in pain. A low sound started in the back of his throat. He combed the embers out of her hair, and pulled her destroyed body into his arms, hacking the smoke from his lungs. He could hardly see, and his flesh was burning.
“Oh, Light. I have you,” he said, standing. A piece of the roof cracked. Caved, and he ran, throwing himself against a half burnt wall and spilling into an alley. Sadie’s body fell like dead weight.
He pressed his hand to her head. Willed the Light into her.
Nothing. Dead.
She was dead, horribly, and he had no diamonds.
Reynauld scooped her body into his arms, and held it close. It was a trek through the brigands to get back to the Abbey.
He chirped, loud, twice.
Help.
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Damn this curse--
One of many swears floating through his mind like white noise. His body is twisted, oversensitive to the commotion, the noise, the chaos. Noise vibrates in antennae, reaches the strange adaptations in his sides, muffled. Distractions. Distractions and not help.
The hamlet’s a far cry from the forests he’s used to, but house corners offer cover all the same, alleyways still offer quick routes, firing lanes-- it’s not far from his time in London.
God what he’d give to be back in London.
Fire and smoke are thick. He keeps his kerchief over his nose and mouth like his knight told him, water in his flask instead of whiskey or rum. He’s been taking shots at brigands as they flooded the first streets of the sorry place. Been sticking the ones that get too close with his blade and leaving their blood to stain the dirt and stone as he moved on.
His body is beyond tired, but burning fear keeps him on his feet despite the exhaustion, the wounds, the worry.
Two chirps.
They’re a far cry from how they sounded in the abbey, divine and resplendent-- a prelude to a serenade. No, these are fearful, though they belong to the same man.
His feet have never carried him so fast.
The sound of his boots ricochets off the buildings as he swings around a corner and through buildings, into the next alley. It makes the silence when he stops feel deafening, even when he knows over the din of the fight it amounts to no more than a drop in the bucket.
He sees Sadie, limp, mangled and twisted, in Reynauld’s arms. His stomach drops, throat burns.
“Love--” he drops to come closer. “Reynauld-- what-- is she--? She can’t be...”
@lighttakeyou
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He stands with heels planted firmly. He stands among those gathered in the center of the town. He could never say the hamlet offers much of an army, but Isaiah knows it bears the responsibility of a stronghold.
A responsibility laid on the backs of those here, now. Red soaks the sky and the ground. The canon’s ringing has finally ended.
Isaiah breathes in slowly, exhales out even more so. Fresh lashes from the night before sting in the open air. Clarity. His wrist stings wear his manacles cut his skin and his hand runs red with blood. It stains his flail where he holds it.
He’s a testament to their strength. His body a vessel for the Light. This is a challenge to endure, and he intends to do so with every reserve left with him.
Isaiah can hear the bark of orders and white-hot fear lances his heart. He grins.
What is fear but a key to piety?
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Blood. Gore. Wails and crashes and sounds of horror. The town is under siege. Roule stays hunkered in the crypts-- or at least that has been his intention.
The scent of blood is what does him in. Sadie had left him extra bread and cheese, and for awhile he had picked at it while trying to stave off the growing hunger in his stomach.
Bread and cheese does not please his other half nearly as much as the scene they both know lay past the crypt doors. There will be dead on both sides. Roule flicks his tongue across his lips. Sets the bread aside.
What leaves the crypt is far from human. Wolves’ teeth set in a deer’s skull, spines protruding along its back. It slinks with an inhuman grace among the stones and creeps off into the dark of the alleys.
Fresh carnage-- too tempting to ignore.
#vvulf event#Witness thoughts I can't describe ;; ic ;; wendigo#/ something small bc he's here#/ snacking in the dark
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The good Raunie’s eyes were on him, for once on a singular point of destiny. Boudica, her unrelenting shadow. There were people who just called her “The Nomad”, or the wise woman in this place, and she never corrected any of them. Never once did she give her name as anything but “Madame”. To Boudica?
To Boudica, strong Boudica that feared neither pain nor death, the woman half her size was the only thing that made her truly, truly pale.
Boudica stood at the open door of the transept, and she flinched when that single voice cut through the silence.
“A plan,” she called out, over the hush of the crowd packed into the abbey like rats to ship, “Yes, you do need a plan, Lord von Bok. What shall you do?”
Boudica shrunk into the shadow of the arch. The crows were beginning to caw outside, more today.
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‘Wolves at the door’ background art!
#darkest dungeon#dd references#as a simp for vvulf I have lots of feelings towards this event#hey doesn't this look like that dd2 trailer too#the hamlet *is* destroyed in the end then huh#vvulf's probably laughing in his grave#terrible man I love#background art
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The individual barks from the Necromancer's attacks are fascinating. Jester claims it reflects their hatred back at them, Antiquarian going on about her master, Musketeer and her flaws and regrets. I wish other bosses gave the heroes a chance for interactions like that. Siren making them see who/what they desire most? Their reactions to Vvulf trying to destroy the hamlet?
Oh, yes, it would have been delicious. Perhaps it would have been too difficult to figure out what each one of the heroes would see in the Siren instead of generic hot fish, but it could have been a difference in attitude. For example, Junia acting more protective and concerned ("don't hurt her, she's everything to me!") while someone like Boudica is aggressive and obsessed ("I will destroy your enemies, my love!"), Barristan is nostalgic ("Love makes me feel alive again!") and Josephine is fittingly materialistic ("My treasure, anything for you!").
Vvulf would have been a great time to confirm Brigand Dismas ("No one leaves the gang alive! HE'S AFTER ME!") and the burning buildings could have triggered Missandei's trauma ("Fire, destruction, my home! Not again!").
Sorry for the sparse posting. I'm not very excited about Darkest Dungeon lately due to Events and I lost the first version of this post on top of that. :') I'm so fucking done.
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imagine how loud the man-at-arms’s sneezes are..... like god himself snapping directly into your ear
#vvulf's bombs have nothing on MaA's sneezes#the From Beyond town event is actually triggered when MaA sneezes too close near the graveyard#get it? bc he sneezes loud enough to raise the dead :)#wyrdposting
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So in my darkest dungeon save. okay for context, in darkest dungeon most of the characters on your roster are randomly generated, but every new game begins with the same two characters, dismas the highwayman and reynauld the crusader. So in my save reynauld dies very early on but dismas makes it through the first in-game year, long enough to reach the highest level. I’ve got about a half dozen high-level characters and I’m starting to be successful in the higher level missions. What could possibly go wrong? I think, and that’s a stupid thing to think because this game has a bunch of very difficult bosses that appear randomly and without warning just to like, keep you on your toes.
So my plans are ruined when the town is attacked by one of these random bosses, the brigand vvulf. The fight is marked on the map with the same difficulty level as the final mission. I’m tempted to just skip it but I do have enough high level characters to assemble a party, and if the mission fails i guess it’s a better way to go out than getting cursed by some random skeleton or something. So I assemble a party; an arbalest and a vestal who can attack or heal as the situation demands, and dismas the highwayman and vesli the grave robber, who both deal a lot of damage per turn and have a very high chance to dodge incoming attacks.
So they embark. everyone’s stress meter hits 100 before we even get to vvulf. the arbalest and the grave robber both have the Irrational condition, but dismas doesn’t break under the pressure and instead becomes Courageous. I really think we might have a chance- and then in the first combat turn against vvulf, the vestal has a fatal heart attack, irreparably screwing up my party order and completely ruining my strategy. The arbalest bleeds to death. Dismas survives two direct hits from heavy explosives, but not the third. Vesli the grave robber, at death’s door and completely out of touch with reality, is the sole survivor. she retreats and manages to limp home, and spends a week in prayer and another at the bar before she’s fully recovered. My roster is in fucking shambles. almost everyone I have left is underleveled. but this fits with the highwayman’s backstory. he’s not in it for the money or the fame or the danger like a lot of the other character classes. he fights because he’s trying to atone for the violence he committed against the innocent in his life as a bandit, and he died unafraid, attempting to defend others from bandits. it’s poetic cinema. I’m not even mad. well, okay, i’m a little mad.
and then immediately after this I get another random event which allows me to resurrect a dead character, and out of the dozens of characters i’ve lost over the course of this campaign, who should the RNG choose to return to this earthly vale of tears but Reynauld
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In the Forest...
Tilly packed the heavy powder down into the barrel of the Pounder while a few of the boys kept the carriage steady. The old girl had a problem staying still on account of old, damaged wheels, but he blamed the last owner’s negligence for the cannon’s lousy shape.
“It’s not that hard to replace a fucking wheel,” Tilly says, her half a face smarting as she rammed the sponge butt into the ground.
“Not important,” he says, his bicep steady against an overgrown tree root. He’d been pulling the crystal out of his muscle and chucking it to the dirt, where his drooling dog was making quick work of swallowing everything he was tossing.
Tilly gave a snort of disbelief. He watched her from the corner of his eye. She’d been blasted by the shit in the farmstead, they all had, and he can’t remember how old the girl was. Fifteen? Something? Something young enough to be a pain and old enough to be running with a pack of wolves. She used to look boyish, with cropped hair and a leather tunic, and now she looked... full of holes and segmented. Half of her face was grey and decayed, split down and off center line from her nose. It was floating apart from the rest of her.
He didn’t look much better, but damn if it wasn’t sobering to see his matchmaid in pieces. There was a hole straight through her chest that didn’t bleed, and he could see the cannon through it. The rest of the boys? They have half a brain for anything, anymore, and they look worse than her. Hell knew why she was spared a stupid mind.
Vvulf spat another crystal at the dog and plucked one of the men up by his scruff.
“Get the bricks, and the rest of you lot. Set the fuckin’ place on fire.”
Tilly laughed, “Hope you find your little knight friend. I’ll fuck his skull with the cannon.”
He could hear the town warning bells beginning to sound, loud and clear. The noise gets a chorus of growls from a hundred men turned monster, in the wood.
Vvulf threw the man, who was silent as the grave, against the dirt, and he scrambled off.
“Put his head in the Pounder when you cut it off, girl. I want to shoot it straight into the damned house.”
Tilly pulled her mask above her face, but he could see the smile behind it, and the shine in her dead eyes. She snapped her fingers and walked with her botefeux as a staff.
“Yip-yip, let’s go boys,” she yowled, and leaped atop the weapon while the dead men pushed the wheels forward.
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