D J McNulty's favorite epic dark fantasy novels that feature characters who are as epic as their stories

I never thought I’d cheer for a crippled torturer, but somehow Abercrombie makes me do it.

The characters in The Blade Itself feel raw and jagged, like real people rather than fantasy archetypes. What I loved most was how no one is truly heroic—everyone’s broken, desperate, or scheming, yet still magnetic. The dialogue crackles with wit, and the shifting perspectives kept me hooked.

It’s grimdark, yes, but never bleak for the sake of it. Instead, it reveals how ugly and fascinating people can be when survival and ambition collide.

In reading The Black Company, I felt like I was stumbling onto soldiers’ private journals.

No shining heroes, no noble speeches—just tired men doing dirty jobs for dirtier employers. What hooked me wasn’t the battles but the banter, the sense of weary camaraderie. Croaker’s perspective makes war almost intimate, showing us the quiet boredom between bursts of chaos. I loved how Cook doesn’t romanticize anything. Instead, he captures the confusion, cruelty, and humor of being part of something too big to fully grasp.

It’s fantasy that smells like mud, sweat, and campfire smoke.

I’ve read The Name of the Wind twice, and each time it feels like sitting down to hear a bard weave his life into song.

Kvothe isn’t perfect—he’s brilliant, arrogant, reckless—but that’s why I believe him. Rothfuss’s prose has a rhythm that lingers in my head like music. What struck me most wasn’t the magic or mystery, but the small human moments: playing the lute for coins, hungering for knowledge, fumbling through mistakes.

For me, it was less about answers and more about the act of telling one’s story, flaws and all.

I picked up The Last Wish after playing the Witcher games and listening to the soundtrack, but what surprised me is how funny it is.

Yes, it is epic fantasy in every sense of the word, but Geralt’s dry humor cuts through the blood and curses, and his conversations with Dandelion had me laughing out loud. What makes it great, though, is how Sapkowski flips fairy tales upside-down, twisting familiar stories into something darker and sharper.

I enjoyed the way morality blurs—there are monsters, sure, but the humans are often MUCH worse. It’s a book that asks hard questions about society under the guise of swords and spells.

This book was my first journey into the Underdark, and I swear I could feel the oppressive dark pressing in while reading it.

Drizzt Do’Urden’s struggle hit me harder than any surface-dweller’s tale—here’s someone born into cruelty, yet refusing to accept it as his destiny. The action is fast and cinematic, but what I loved most is the quiet defiance running through every page.

Drizzt isn’t just fighting with blades; he’s fighting for the right to choose who he is. For me, that made the book unforgettable.