- Tjally's fanfics -

[Tjally]

Hey everyone, this is a thread for the small fanfics I write for Don't Starve. This game is my dream and it inspired me more than anything else ever did before.

A note: Not everything in this fanfic is game accurate, but know that I made those choices to make for a better story.

Here we go:

MacTusk's Trophey

MacTusk groaned as he put the last few pieces of the igloo in place. His son had proved to be largely useless, putting down a whole two ice-blocks before running after a jackrabbit with the hounds. Maybe it was time for him to pick up the darts, at least he'd come back from his little play trips with something to show for it. MacTusk started to unpack his bag, and immediately strapped his darts to his belt. He'd been out hunting here before, and it was never safe, no matter how tranquil it all seemed. Good thing that wee MacTusk took the hounds, you never know.

A chirping roar alerts MacTusk of his sons arrival, and the two blue hounds yip and bark in excitement. Maybe MacTusk had wanted to be a little cross with his son for not helping him set up the igloo, but when the young walrus shows him his catch (a seriously chewed up jackrabbit) he can't stay mad. Tomorrow they would go hunting for real, and junior would get his first lessons in hunting on the evil grounds.

The next day they were up early, and MacTusk had made additional darts, just in case they come across something more needy of death than your average jackrabbits ice birds. He sure hoped so, he came here more for enjoyment than food-collecting.

They set out, blue hounds excitedly sniffing about, and wee Mactusk pointing out non-existant marks of prey, even going so far as to spot Koelephant footsteps in a pinecone. He still needed more practice than just this one hunting trip, but his excitement more than made up for it.

MacTusk shot a dart at a rabbit, and it keeled clean over. The missus at home had hinted on a coat of soft jackrabbit fur, and it wouldn't be too much work to peel the skin off. He'd set junior on that task right after they'd caught enough rabbits.

He shoots darts until he only has a few more hanging from his belt, and then the hunters return to their igloo, arms full of rabbits and hounds whining for scraps at their feet.

It is right when Junior is bringing the meat inside that MacTusk sees a new threat, far too close to their camp. He doesn't recognize it, and it dives behind a tree when he tries to get a better look. By the time he reaches the tree, the thing is gone, leaving only unrecognizable prints in the snow. He sends the hounds after it immediately, but they return a while later with clean snouts.

MacTusk can't help but love the chill that runs through him. Who knew what they were up against! Even if it turned out to be a defenseless little thing, it would be one of a kind, and MacTusk would like that on his wall, as would his wife! Maybe even more than that coat she had been hinting at!

He restocks his darts as quickly as he can, and urges junior to follow him and he strange prints in the snow. It would be a glorious first trophey for his son, a never before seen animal from the cursed island!

The tracks are strange, and almost frighteningly straight. This thing knows where it is going, and doesn't waste time on twists and turns. Wee Mactusk helps him spot the next tracks, and then they arrive at a crude camp.

Dried hunks of animal hang on dirty ropes, and several wooden boxes almost burst out of their seams, so filled are they with random junk and treasure. The tracks are all over the place, but still, the animal is nowhere to be seen. It's a smart creature, frighteningly so, and it would make for a better trophey than anything else! Anyone could off a Beefalo, a few pigs or a Tallbird. This predator already had, judging from the animals hunks drying on the racks.

Wee Mactusk looked worried, and he clenched his own darts tightly in his flippers. This would be no ordinary hunt. It would be an ambush of a deadly creature.

The waiting was long, and the tension grew between son and father, but finally, a rustling from the forest signalized the return of the animal. Both walruses held their breath and had their darts at the ready as their target appeared.

The creature was indeed unlike they had ever seen. Three black curled horns adorned the head, making a ghostly white face stand out from beneath. It was dressed in the corpses of its prey, Koelephant snout stuffed with beefalo fur and spiderwebbings, crude earmuffs made from jackalope fur, and a backpack made from pig leather.

It saw them, and made a startled jump backwards. For just a moment, MacTusk wanted to see the beast in its full glory, before ending its life and presenting its evil horned head to his family. He roared, and the hounds shot from their positions towards the menace. MacTusk himself immediately blew a dart at it as well.

It screamed loudly as it hit, and took off into the forest, faster than he had expected. The hounds ran after it with loud howls. He prepared a second dart, and signalled for his son to follow in the persuit.

The hounds whined in the distance, and he could hear one of them scream in its death throes. Both father and son arrived just in time to see the horned creature drive a pointed spear right through their last hound.

Then it turned his sights onto them, and shudders of delight went through MacTusk's hide. Eye to eye with the predator! Trying to outsmart the other, a true fight of life and death! Hah. He would show this creature, who is the smartest!

He blew another dart, and the creature cried out in rage and pain, raising its weapon threateningly. It howled a choked up battlecry, and charged forward. MacTusk knew better than to stand still, and he fled from the wild beast, heart pounding. He was outrunning it, but only barely! He turned his head just in time to see the predator catching up to his son.

He roared out a warning, but it was too late. The pointed tip of the weapon dug into wee MacTusk's side, and he squealed in pain. Suddenly the thrill of the hunt had turned into the ice-cold fear that he might lose his son. The beast crooned in victory, and raised it's spear for the final blow.

Any caution was blown in the wind by old MacTusk. Forgetting all the safety rules when dealing with wild animals, he charged at the monster attempting to kill his son, and managed to bash the harmful creature out of the way, catching the spear in his left flipper as he did so.

Wee MacTusk was a ghostly pale, but he stumbled to his feet as his father took a blowdart from his belt. The expression of fear on the predator's strange snout would have been comical if not a bit piteous before to MacTusk, but now he only felt gratification.

He blew his dart at the creature, and it hit it square in the chest. With an almost walrus-like moan, the predator sank to its knees, the weapon dropped from its talons and its throphey's slowly going red from blood.

They were victorious. His son stood shaking behind him, and stared at the animal struggling for its life in the snow. Such a mighty predator, now weakly pawing at the snow in its death throes.

It's struggling soon slowed, and it just laid breathing and bleeding on the ground. It's intelligent eyes were hazy with pain and panic, and even as it started losing consciousness, they could tell it was still trying to think a way out of its situation. MacTusk treated his sons wounds, as they waited for the beast to die, and in the end, wee MacTusk could even grin, boasting that a scar from such a dangerous creature would make him more attractive. MacTusk could only agree, and thank whatever gods there were for the life of his son.

Together they watched the creature faint and die, before they bound it and dragged it through the snow to their igloo.

The MacTusks left early that winter, and from that winter forth, in their home, resides the one and only taxidermied, black-horned beast.

Edited July 18, 2013 by Tjally

[Tjally]

STORY #2

If anyone read the first story and went; I don't want to read this, please give me a pointer on what drove you away. Was it the formatting? The idea? The descriptions? In any case, here is my second story.

Summary: Around the old village of Shanter lives a strange man, who has his strange ways. When he disappears, the village is left to find what he left behind

The mad man

There was a crazy man, living in the forest round the ole town of Shanter.

He was a pretty normal fellow, a gentleman even, if you cared to forget about his frantic rants about science and other strange things. He kept -and talked- to himself, and only showed up in the village to buy his supplies. He was a known character around the old village of Shanter, and even though the mothers warned their children not to go play near the man's house, many felt that the crazy man was innocent in his ravings. He was the kind of insane that one would smile about and shake their heads at the same time.

One day, the man did not come for his weekly supplies. He did not come to collect his specific order of five week old roosters either, nor was he seen in any of the town's shops. They were worried for the poor lunatic. What if he had done something harmful to himself during one of his fits? A few of the worried villagers bunched together and went to the man's house, taking the priest with them just in case a bad spirit had taken over the weak mind of their resident fool.

His house was even more in disarray than it had ever been before, and he did not answer to knocks on the door. The townspeople feared for the worst, and broke open the door, expecting to find the poor man's remains rotting away in a corner.

What they found however, was far worse.

Machine-parts and gears littered the house as common as dust, and on every overstacked shelf were at least six bottles filled with ominous liquids and powders. The walls were covered with frantic writing, going from mathematic equations and monstrous schematic to demonic summon rituals. The books littering the place were of the forbidden kind, spewing dangerous nonsense about immortality, resurrecting the dead and other powers kept wisely beyond the grasp of man by God. He had tried them all, awful golems made of wood flesh and hair stood at random through the house, crude amulets engraved with symbols of the devil hung around the necks of dead animals, and impaled pig heads surrounded an altar covered with dried blood.

Countless animals lied dead in their cages, others hung nailed from walls or were pinned to a platter with their organs carefully pulled out. They even found a horrid rotting assembly of animal parts in a corner, paired with a book on 'chimeara'.

The priest drew many crosses in the air that day, and the bravest on men went pale when they found the human skeleton hanging from a rack next to a paper-cluttered desk.

The most frightening discovery however, was the enormous machine standing in the mad man's attic. In comparison to the other atrocities commited by the man, a machine should not have been so utterly demonic, and yet it was. It was not a machine, with its toothy grin and flashing eyes. It was alive, and from behind its teeth, some could swear they heard evil music. All the other things in the attic had been pushed aside to make room for the machine, and the floor was painted with animal blood in an unsettling pattern. Right before the machine's 'mouth', a dark stain coloured the floorboards black, like lightening had struck.

Nobody dared to go near the ominous machine, not even the priest, and in the end all the villagers fled the house. It would be set on fire. Such an evil place could only attract more evil if left alone. They could simply not allow this satanic machine to stay so close to their village.

The strongest men of the village gathered dry hay and laid it around the house, some even spilling valuable lantern oil around the place just to make sure it would burn.

Some villagers theorized it wouldn't burn at all, as it clearly was a patch of hell itself brought to earth by the devils minion. Still, even they stuffed dry wood and oil into the demonic house. They took the human skeleton from its rack, and gave it a proper burial, the priest giving his most earnest blessings to the poor soul that had been murdered for such evil intentions.

As the fire was lit, the old woman down main street proclaimed she had known all along the man had been crazy. Who else but a demon would have poised his hair into the form of three curved horns? The others nodded, and felt ashamed for their stupidity. All of them wished they had had the man sent to the lord before his posessed mind had been able to do such awful things. They cursed the devil for taking advantage of the weakest of minds, and the shopkeeper felt a pang of guilt that he had not protected the mad man from himself.

The house was nothing more than a frame of charcoal and rubbish. Even the bones of the poor animals had been cooked to ashes and dust. The villagers drew crosses, and prayed for the insane man that had lost his soul to the devil. May he still find the path of God, they all prayed, and meet us in heaven. Then they left, the men silent and frowning, and the woman talking silent and worriedly.

If one of them had returned, and listened just a bit more closely, they might have heard the demented music still playing from within the devilish machine.

Edited July 19, 2013 by Tjally

[Tjally]

STORY #3

You never steal a friend

The school had organized a mandatory trip out of town. A whole 4 big coins per child, or they could not come with, and they would lose their good grade.

The ophanage did not have much money to spend on schooltrips, so grudgingly, the caretaker organized the very cheapest trip she could find, to some old village that had been in the news a few weeks prior.

All of the orphaned children were ushered into a creaky old cart, and the oxes spanned before it slowly pulled them to their destination.

Amongst the orphans was a young girl, with two pigtails and a soft teddybear clutched in her hands. She jumped out of the cart when they arrived, and obediently followed the caretaker as she walked to the only 'attraction' the town had to offer. An old woman spouting foul words and horrific stories about a devil that lived in the village not too long ago. They had burned his house, she said, and sent his despicable damned soul to hell where it belonged.

The girl had always been rather confused about what people said about heaven and hell. They said heaven was nice, and it had sunlight and clouds. They said hell was awful, filled with burning fire and screams of the damned.

It just didn't match up. How could fire ever be awful?

The woman didn't talk about fire for very long, and the girl lost interest. She slinked off unnoticed, and wandered through Shanter. The villagers didn't greet her, but she didn't need their greetings anyhow. A scratched old lighter shone at her from the pocket of a sleeping man. The man reminded her of her grandfather before he died, but that thought was forgotten as soon as it appeared in her head.

She reached out and pulled the lighter from the mans pocket as nonchalantly as one would scratch his or her nose. She flicked on the fire, and stared into its depths like she could see a whole world hidden in the tiny bit of flame.

The old man awoke, and grumbled angrily at her, for disturbing his sleep. The girl fled quickly from his gaze, leaving her teddybear on the ground in favor of her newest treasure. She could hear the man suddenly yell out in surprise, and then in anger, and she knew that he had found out about the loss of his lighter.

She would not give up easily, and ran past the many old houses, straight into the forest. She ran until she didn't hear the man anymore, and then she flicked on the lighter to greet her best friend. They talked for a while, until the sun slowly began to descend, its light colouring the world a deep orange. She said goodbye to her friend, and slowly started to walk back to the village. The care taker would be mad, and the man too. They would take her friend away...

A soft music sounded throughout the forest, and the girl stopped in her tracks. It was a very old record, and in between the cheery notes, she could hear the crackling of a peaceful fire. It was calling to her, and she followed, certain that it would bring her to better places than the orphanage.

The fire in the music brought her to a burnt-down house.

Oh, the fire must have been a beautiful blaze, to leave so little of it standing! She flicked her friend on, to show him and they both imagined how the house would have looked when ablaze.

The crazy man the woman had talked about... the other kids at the orphanage and the caretaker said she was crazy too, but they just didn't understand.

She wished that the crazy man still lived, because he had understood. He had lit his own world on fire, just like she had tried to do. He had gone to heaven, where all the fires burn brighter than the sun. He had succeeded where she had failed.

She walked into the remains of the house, following the happy tune with the hidden fire.

Hidden beneath debris, a strange machine was toppled over on the ground. The music came from in between the strange 'teeth' the machine had.

No matter how pleasant the tune, the girl felt chills run over her body, and she held her friend out in front of her as a shield.

It was the kind of chills that reminded her of fire. It was too beautiful to stay away from, yet it could so easily bring harm and pain... It was the same with this machine. It beconed her, and she knew she would never have to lose her friend or be scolded or called crazy...

Behind the teeth of that machine, lied a world that would utterly and completely accept her quirks, and her friends. She came closer to the machine, and pried the teeth from eachother with her fingers. It was pitch-black behind the teeth, but the music sounded louder. She struggled to pull herself in, when a hand suddenly grasped her arm, and tugged her inside. Her friend flickered and slept, as she was pulled towards the world that would never, ever call her crazy.

[Tjally]

To everyone whom it may concern: I am accepting requests. OC's are allowed as well. Short Don't Starve prompts if you please. Of course it's up to me which requests I feel I can do and which ones would kill me from the inside, but I will give some pointers: -Nothing sexual-Nothing that is 99% romance