My Darkest Dungeon

Prologue

My Dear Son,

I know that I have not been there for you, and I have no idea what it is your mother has told you of me. I imagine that if she has said anything, it has hardly been the most flattering depicture. Debauchery, greed, lasciviousness, and who knows what else are potential subjects of complaint.

To be perfectly frank, I doubt that it scratches the very surface of my sins.

I ask that you continue reading as I explain the purpose of this letter, and though I have no right to ask this of you, I pray that you will honor the wish of a dying man.

Our family was quite prosperous in it's prime - our venerable house, opulent and imperial, gazed proudly from it's stoic perch above the moor, overlooking the village and land about it. I lived all my years in that ancient shadowed manor, fattened by decadence and luxury. It was during the later years of extravagance that my dearest wife, Inko, left me after I let the oath of marital responsibility fade from my mind and focused more towards... material pursuits.

Despite my words at the time, I do not blame her for her decision, and she was quite valiant in her attempts to sway me from my self-destructive activities. But in the end, she left despite being pregnant with you.

I suppose I should be grateful that she left, for she was not here to witness what happened.

After years of the lifestyle I have mentioned, I began to tire of... conventional extravagance. Singular unsettling tales suggested our mansion itself was a gateway to some fabulous and unnameable power. With relic and ritual, I bent every effort towards the excavation and recovery of those long buried secrets, exhausting what remained of our family fortune on swarthy workmen and sturdy shovels.

At last, in the salt soaked crags beneath the lowest foundations, we unearthed that damnable portal of antediluvian evil. Our every step unsettled the ancient earth, but we were in a realm of death and madness. In the end, I alone fled, laughing and wailing through those blackened arcades of antiquity. Until consciousness failed me.

Our venerable house, opulent and imperial... It is now a festering abomination! Izuku, my son, I have no claim to you, and yet I beg of you, come to the manor, claim your birthright, and deliver our family from the ravenous clutching shadows of the darkest dungeon.

A loud bang thudded through the carriage, causing Izuku to jump in fright, nearly upsetting the pile of books at his side.

"Bakugou!" The armored crusader, Tenya Iida, scolded the third occupant of the carriage, "Remove your feet from the seat! This carriage is merely rented, and not ours!"

The rough looking blonde with a pistol and several grenades at his side scoffed, "Shove it Tin Can, if they have a problem with it, then they can take it up with me!" He spat out as the carriage hit another rough spot.

"Dang it!" He snarled as he was jolted forward again, "If they want freakin' courtesy from me, then they should STEER THIS PIECE OF CRAP CORRECTLY!"

"T-the road is p-probably just in bad condition Kacchan," Izuku offered, trying to appease his childhood friend, "We were warned before leaving the last town after all." He resisted a flinch as the blonde glared at him before turning back to his pistol.

He breathed a sigh of relief. 24 years old and the blonde still managed to intimidate him. Still, considering what the letter described, he was grateful that Bakugou was willing to come with him on this trip. The reforming highwayman was one of the strongest people that Izuku knew, and despite his attitude was the person he could trust most to take on whatever was out there.