Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'fanfic'.
Found 4 results
_catness_ posted a topic in [Don't Starve] Art, Music & LoreLooking for some one who can draw all of the DS and RoG characters, I have a plot for a fanfic, but I reeeally want it to be a comic, so who can draw? (Cause I really can't draw) My main characters will be Wilson, Wendy, Abigail, Wigfrid, Webber and Maxwell, although Charlie will also appear a bunch. If you're interested, show me how you draw these characters. I would like some one who's pretty flexible, because I can be kinda particular and that can come off as rude, unfortunately. In advance, if I'm like 'I don't like how you draw their nose' or something, just say I'm being petty and I'll probably stop. I promise I won't take offense, since I know I am petty. Please let me know if you'd like to help! Seems like I've found someone, thanks Minespatch! *Please note, this is just a first draft of the very start. If my writing isn't it's best, I apologize. Also yes, Wigfrid is supposed to be overly dramatic* the script for the very beginning is done, it is inclosed below, and more is on the way. I'm going for pretty short chapters, that way I can probably write 1-3 a week. And #2 is here as well! Because of the completely maddening formatting, you have to click though two spoilers to get to it, my apologies!
Chapter I: Another Day With Them Wilson woke up from his slumber to the familiar feel of a slightly lumpy, yet comforting spring mattress. He sat up, and looked around, a bit confused. It was his old bedroom, back at the....well, others wouldn't call it a mansion. But Mister Higgsbury often referred to it as such. All the familiar things were there. A few blueprints lying on a wooden stool next to the bed, a bureau with a childhood photo of himself displayed in a wooden frame, a small metal toolbox with certain supplies. It all seemed so strange. What had happened...who knows how long ago? He looked at the wall facing his bed, where there was a rather old-looking calendar. By the looks of it, he had only been gone for one day. The days certainly seemed a lot longer. How could that be? He looked out his bedroom window, at the road leading up to the decrepid mansion. The twisting road and gnarled, leafless trees seemed so very unchanged. The skies were clear for a change. Wilson stepped back and shook his head in surprise. Was it all a dream? The man on the radio, the machine, the strange hands? All the things he had made in the strange wilderness were gone. Maybe it was all a fever dream of some sort. He hurried downstairs, and headed into the "living room", where the machine had been. It was gone, as if it had never existed. A thick line of static came from the radio. All the scientific equipment and lab animals were there, with an almost uncanny level of organization. Wilson stopped and shook his head even harder, the idea of it actually all not being real having trouble sinking in. A relieved sigh escaped the scientist's lips. He left the living room and headed into the main hall. On a golden stand was a fine black jacket and top hat. After what had just happened, maybe a break from science was in order. A bit of socializing would do the mind good. He put on the coat and top hat, and put his hand on the knob of the front door to leave, when suddenly, he heard something from the radio, just barely. A single, solitary, "Hey." Against better judgement, he walked back over to the radio. "Say, pal..." came the radio's voice. It was the exact same one from his strange dream. A wave of dread overtook Wilson. He slowly started to back away. "Hey! Pal, where do you think you're running off to?" Wilson couldn't bring himself to answer. He bolted back into the hall and out the door. He didn't want anything more to do with that voice. All he really wanted was to be as far away from that place as possible, for a while. Unfortunately, he didn't even make it down past the porch before he was stopped by two familiar, shadowy claws, transparent, yet visible, waiting for him. He barely had time to scream before they grabbed him, choking him and slowly pulling him into darkness. He could hear a loud hiss. He awoke again with a scream, this time returned to the smell of a fire pit that had just gone out, a spear at his side, and the cawing of a crow. That was a dream, instead. This land is Wilson's nightmare, one that is all too real.
Co-written by Tjally and Catface *Edit* font was all messed up, reposted the fanfic, cannot use tab to make dents. - Reverted Ascend - Once the sun had set Wilson snuck out of his bed, entered the hallway and slowly made his way towards his father's study, tip-toeing past his parent's bedroom with held breath. With the door ajar and the moonlight illuminating his surroundings he slipped into the murky room and approached his father's desk. Crouching he retrieved his father's suitcase from it's hiding place just under the desk, spawning a cloud of dust as he pulled out the old thing. They would never miss it, he told himself. It wasn't... It wouldn't be stealing if... He cut himself off there, opening the case with a soft clack. Inside he found a few of his father's forgotten clothes, some inconspicuous documents and even the illustrated bible his old man had accused him of burning when he was younger. It had been one of his earlier experiments, but that would have been infinitely worse to admit than the burning of his father's bible. Once he had tossed aside the old junk he dragged the leather suitcase back to his own room - his shoulders tense as bowstrings when he snuck it past his sleeping parents.Inside he put down the case next to his bed and began to pack everything he needed. He had already taken considerable time to collect his belongings for the journey, it would take only a minute or so to complete the task; both of the books he owned, two sets of clothing, paper, pens, ink, his notebook, all of the money he had saved, and last of all; the directions to an abandoned house near the town of Shanter, soon to become inhabit-ed. Once the last of his gear was stashed inside he silently closed the leather suitcase with a click, stood up and made his way towards the front door, crossing the hallway and descending the stairs before approaching the doorstep. Even though the stairs had creaked under the weight of the heavy suitcase his parents remained asleep, and with a shiver he found himself hoping they would remain so forever, so they would never witness what he had done... "Son, don't listen to what those mad people say. Pity them instead. They lost their connection to God, and choose to plague His children with their nonsense" Staring at the door handle he took a moment to look around and soak in his familiar suroundings, feeling both queasy and excited at the thought of never seeing it again. A wooden cross looming over him- one of many in his parents' house - leered at him with fury judgement, reminding him of the many times the priests had forcefully tried to expel the demons from his body.As silently as he could he grabbed a black winter coat - the warmest his mother owned - before slipping outside during the depths of the night.When he was two streets away, snow began to silently fall on the roofs and streets, cloaking his departure.Once at the train station he looked around and found the platforms nearly empty, only a few poor souls mulled around, spending the night on benches otherwise meant for travelers. Their bloodshot eyes gazed at him as he passed each one of them, and he hid behind his coat to avoid their fey looks. "Don't look at them Wilson... Oh, don't feel sorry for them. Their choices are what led them there, and God always gives His children what we deserve." Wilson shook his head and snowflakes fell out of his hair as he turned his focus towards the lights coming in from the distance. His ride had arrived.With the huffing and puffing of old metal and steam the machine eventually came to a stop, the doors opened and Wilson went aboard.Shivering he took seat in one of the empty wagons, looking outside he could see an im-maculate blanket of white disappear into the dense forests. Less than five minutes later he watched his hometown slowly vanish from his sight, and tried to swallow down the knot in his throat. Where he'd be going, there would be no more crosses, holy water or other sacred things, only science. "Scientists are infidels, they speak nothing but lies!" Wilson fumbled with the handle on his suitcase. Science is not devilry, Science is not sin, science is not devilry... He still only half believed it.The train rode on for the night, and half of the following day, stopping every now and then to pick up other travelers or to drop them off at their point of destination. After what seemed like an eternity of passing from train to train, Wilson finally arrived at his destination; Shanter.Shanter was an old town, and miraculously it had never grown large or diminished. It was rumoured to be cursed or so he had heard, so maybe that was the reason. A large pine forest on top of soft hills surrounded the village, and apart from the train station it was effectively cut off from civilization. It could very well be that was the reason if Shanter's neutral growth.The people of the village were quiet and sullen, their eyes almost locked to Wilson's back as he passed them with his heavy suitcase. It took all the willpower he had not to break into a jog and run from their prying judgement, but in the end he managed to maintain his composure and continue his casual stroll. It seemed to take ages until he'd passed the last house, and even then the few minutes it took him to disappear into the forest felt longer that they were supposed to. As he closed in on his destination, he could still sense those strange and suspicious looks, staring right through the forest. He shivered. "How does God know what we do good and wrong? Why that's simple, He' is always watching us Wilson, we're not a moment alone in this cold world." Wilson had reached the end of the path, and a ragged house on top of a desolate hill appeared from behind the trees. A worn sign stood in front of it, proclaiming:HAUNTED - DO NOT ENTERWilson walked up to the sign, pulled it out of the ground and tossed it down near the deteriorating fence. "Science knows no ghosts." Still, an eerie chill went down his spine as he continued towards the house, and the ominous creaking of the door made him think of the Devil's laughter. The inside was dusty, and only partially furnished. Of the furniture, the tables, bookshelves and a big chair were all covered in cloth, the white fabric thick with dust and grime.He put his suitcase onto the table and took out the books he'd taken with him. Taken from the library just a few days ago. He hadn't dared to read them until now, and even just flipping them open had made him queasy in anxiety. God is always watching... Science says there is no God. "... People who are lost from God are the only ones bold enough to lie in the light of truth." He stared at the book, his fingers lingering on the cover. He could read all of it in peace and complete silence. There would be no one here to scold him for practicing science, no forced prayers, fearful looks, nothing of that! He flipped open the book and immersed himself in the detailed illustrations of a dissection, hundreds of small notes scribbles around to explain the use and nature of each individual muscle and sinew. Organs held almost half of the book, and in the very back were the obsecure instructions to a Scientific vivisection.Wilson felt a half crazed smile creep over his lips, and he pulled the money from his suitcase, together with the half-burned notebook which held all of his theories.He started putting all of it in their rightful places, coat in a corner, notes spread out on the table, and books finally flipped open and spread like eagle wings on the wooden surface of the table. It was a meager start, but it was more than he'd ever had before. This was his laboratory.He started with the books that had always been forbidden to him from a young age. "Those books speak the Devil's words, boy!""Science is a dark art, a demon that attempts to stray you from the path of God, Wilson.""What did you do to that mouse?! Why did you do this Wilson, answer me!""There he is, that strange little boy, stay away from him child, he's a devil""-hair like the devil's horns... Sometimes I worry so much father, what can I do?!" He didn't sleep that night, the two forbidden books absorbing all his attention until the very last word had been consumed. Once he'd finished, he feared for himself. What the books spoke of was devil work, evil and untruths, vile lies to mislead from the path of God, and yet it made him buzz in excitement and itch from longing.He ran a hand through his hair, finding the strange crooked horns that refused to fall like normal hair ought to. His throat hurt. "- banish the demon from this child, let him once again follow the serene guidance of God! Amen!" He stared at the illustrations in his book, and where disgust should have devoured him, only a hunger to imitate lingered within him. Wilson leaned back in his chair and tried to quell the knot that was in his throat. His arrival here had been the start, now the real work would begin.He took a piece of paper and a pen, and started on his list of all the things he would need, copying nearly every other mentioned book from the ones he'd just finished. Then he took the wintercoat from its place in the corner and left his new house to buy at last the things he'd need for his first experiments. It is only at midnight that he returns from his shopping spree, his suitcase stuffed full of new items and a cage with white mice squeaking under his arm. He nearly breaks a leg, running as fast as he can once he's exited the train. He doesn't even bother closing the door behind him when he runs inside - nor does he pay attention to the lenghty shadows quivering inside his house across the walls... Once he has tossed his suitcase and the mice-cage onto the table he light a few candles.His hands tremble when the instruments touch them, and with a smile almost wider than his face spreads them over the table. Sharp scalpels, small tools, drills, nails, chemicals in small jars, glass beakers and tubes...Even a book that would have gotten him lynched in his hometown!He reaches into the mice cage and pulls out a fat struggling mouse from the straw. He could see it now, his eyes glancing over the white critter: he could cut it open, and nobody would be drowning him in holy water, or scolding him.The idea was nearly enough to bring him to the brink of despair. Would he? Could he do it? He wanted to, yet his stomach roiled and his eyes watered. Selling his soul, buying his one-way ticket to hell. Undoing all the priests and prayers had done for him in order to keep him on the holy path of God.He held the mouse to the table, and hammered its paws to the table. "Oh lord...I am weak, I am weak! I can't resist... Please, lord, forgive me, forgive me..."The mice in the cage screamed and squeaked, the one pinned to the table wailing in agony. Wilson fumbled with the case around the scalpels and nearly cut his hand on the blades. He could barely call it science, what he did to that mouse. His cut was messy and the organs were left ruined beyond recognition beneath the little pools of blood. His throat ached but he couldn't get himself to stop smiling. It was complete and utter freedom! As the creature died on the table Wilson laid the scalpel aside, peering into the dying flesh from above. Even as unrecognizable as the organs were, it was a delight to observe without the fear of discovery. There would be no screaming maids, hiding the little corpse. He could even leave it and see how it would dry or rot in humid or dry locations! Try out all the different forms of mummifcation or body preserving! Bringing them back from the dead, giving them intelligence, immortality. What was there to stop him now!? "This is not right Wilson, you're sick. You can't keep doing this! Promise me you never do anything like this again!" The next day he went into town again, coming home with two nervous rabbits in a box and even stranger things he needed for his scientific research. A few people in the town gave him strange looks and whispered behind his back, and Wilson wished fervently none of them would get the idea to follow him. One woman in particular sent a terrible chill down his spine, so much did she look like his mother. As he fled the town he swore he could see a woman's shadow stalking him... "Please, don't hurt him! He is but a child!""But is there no other way?! There has to be another way!""How could you do this to me again Wilson..." He nearly crashed into an old woman, but her angry words couldn't drown out the voice.