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(Literature and some Art) Wilson's Journal


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You were completely numb from whatever drug that was in your system. Grogginess shrouded your ability to move for the last ten minutes now, ever since you awoke to a bang, a puff of smoke, and a book. You couldn't even feel the blades of grass ticking your cheeks, or the odd breeze ruffling your hair. The silence had stretched on for an infinite moment, punctuated only with the sound of birdsong, as you examined the only notable landmark since your sudden arrival in...wherever you were.

 

You do not remember getting here, so logically you assumed that someone had slipped something in your food or drink and tossed you, rather unceremoniously, into this dilapidated grassy plain and left an instruction book with your initial sliced into the leather bound cover. It was incredibly battered, and you were certain there was a bloodstain on the top right corner. After a while, though, you eventually regained enough movement to drag the book towards you with a new desperation, flicking open to the very first page, where a thin sheet of what appeared to be some sort of odd, pale leather was picked up by the breeze and landed before you. It was baked rock solid and brittle under the sun, and there was some sort of introductory note written using ink and a quill over the bumpy surface.

~~~

If you have found this book, then words do not describe how sorry I am for your current situation.

 

Inside these pages is a record, a compilation of my Field Notes, on how to survive in this new plane of Hell itself. I have trudged through the coldest winters, sought shelter from unrelenting storms, crouched pathetically in the everlasting darkness to bring to you, heir to my burden, a recount of the day my new life started to the point where it ended. In between these two covers is the story of a life, all of the mistakes, the successes, and the plans. Fears, thoughts, feelings, and fleeting memories compressed into a single tome to which I pass on to the next player in this demented game.

 

If you have found this book, then I am either dead, or worse. All will be made clear should you manage to survive long enough to reach the end, as I have. This may not be the best of introductions but I have very little time to speak and think for myself, as the pointless seconds which I still have are going solely into writing down this very note, on this very piece of leather, to give you a proper greeting - something that I never received myself - and some lessons to live on.

 

If you have found this book, then my name is Wilson Percival Higgsbury, and I do not know where I have ended up.

 

~~~

 

Haha okay wow. Hello there, DS arists and writers and music-makers alike! My name is FieldNotes and this thread is devoted to partially DS-related drawings, partially talking to the community instead of lurking, but mainly to putting out a lovely gem that I have been thinking on for a good, hm...6 months now?

 

The premise for Wilson's Journal is fairly simple - I'm going to put the story behind Don't Starve into the perspective of our plucky Gentleman Scientist, and adhere to the canon story as much as possible, but you'll notice how it starts to deviate and I'm going to tie together a bunch of loose ends along the way into one gloriously tangled mess of metaphorical strings.

 

I'm also going to have fun writing, and try to update as much as possible, but I hope people understand that I do get quite busy sometimes. This prevented me from starting this 6 months before, but I noticed that some of the brilliant artists here are also hindered by their own time schedules so I deemed it appropriate to, at the very least, make a start on this little project of mine.

 

Day 1 will be posted shortly, I presume.

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Day 1


 


My name is Wilson Percival Higgsbury, and I do not know where I have ended up.


The grey light of dawn brought with it a misty fog which was enveloping my body with lethargy and an abominable headache. I vaguely recalled a man's voice, and some sort of small explosion followed by a puff of smoke, and the traces of burnt tobacco hung in the air for a few moments after his arrival, but it had been around seven minutes and I still found myself with very little energy to even sit up. Because of this, I had a very dull period in which I lay and stared at the sky; a sky which was, unfortunately, blocked entirely by a thick blanket of grey columbus clouds. It wasn't my finest moment, I will admit.


 


As movement and thought returned to my body, I started to comprehend the situation I was in. With an effort I had finally brought myself to my feet and observed the surroundings warily; there was no sign of human life in the general area, no houses or smoke, but instead a dilapidated backdrop of grey-green grass, scattered with the odd flower and coniferous tree. In the distance, a dark forest left a corrupted bulge on the horizon, dragging shadows across the plains ominously. To my left - a few small, tightly bunched bushes with gleaning red fruit perched on the branches.


 


I was, therefore, completely alone until I found my way inland and therefore discover civilization. There is no possible way that this is not England - it is far too cloudy to belong to anywhere else and the landscape itself has an odd familiarity to it, some sort of instinctive calling that I am, in fact, on my home soil. It was a comfort emotionally, but as a scientist I could not allow myself to jump to conclusion as quickly. Samples had to be taken, to discover as much about the land as possible.


 


Since the trees in the forest took the most distance to approach, I deemed it necessary to discover what it was that grew upon the bushes. Perhaps, with luck, I could bait some sort of creature to consume it to check for toxins...but alas, it seemed like I was the only sentient being around for a fair while. As such, it was necessary for me to take matters into my own hands.


 


With care, I plucked a handful of the small red berries and held them out in my hand. They didn't look that dissimilar to cranberries, but again...a scientist never makes assumptions. With great trepidation, I crushed one berry in between my thumb and forefinger and poked the juices with the tip of my tongue.


 


The juices were sickeningly sweet, causing me to jerk my head back abruptly all the same, worried that I had just tasted poison. I waited a good few minutes but I could not determine whether the tingling sensation was a placebo effect, or perhaps an actual ailment. The only factor that prevented me from abandoning the fruits were the pangs of hunger that awoke upon the taste of food. Reluctantly, I popped one berry into my mouth, and then another, and another. Luckily these were not poisonous, though quite nauseating after a few handfuls.


 


At the very least, I knew that starvation was not an issue, so long as I remembered the form and shape of the bushes and the fruits which they hold within their leafy confines. With this in mind, I headed west with the climbing sun, with the intention of finding civilization before Nightfall.


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N'aw, thank you for the comment! I would post up another one by now, but I'm rather busy at the moment, I got one helluva commission and it's taking up all my time. Hopefully I'll be able to paint something quickly to go for Day 2.

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Day 2

Journal, I have two issues to report. 

 

BulletPoint_zps71797415.pngNo matter how hard I try, it is inevitable; a fire must be kept at night. I managed a meagre one last night and barely slept for fear of letting it go out.

 

BulletPoint_zps71797415.png I am not in England anymore.

 

Last night was an embarrassment for me as both a scientist and a man. I shall spare you the details as I am meant to be recording present events, not hampering on about my innermost thoughts and feelings. Needless to say, a method of keeping a fire going will have to be considered. For future reference - the twigs from the berry bushes produce lots of smoke due to the high water content from them, whereas the grass is dry and makes good kindling. It was cold, colder than I expected it to be. The best option so far are the small saplings scattered around the area - interestingly, like the berry bushes, only a single species of sapling seems to grow up around my height and then simply wither and die, leaving behind tough, dry sticks to use as firewood. Incidentally, it doesn't work very well and I needed lots of sticks and grass to keep it going.

 

Whilst we are on the topic of sticks and grass, I noticed several interesting properties about them. Whilst the grass is dry enough to be lit and burn quite well, it is also very supple and versatile; I believe it might be possible to use it as a temporary replacement for string until further notice. On top of that, it is surprisingly tough - knotting two strands of grass together and tugging for a while made certain of this fact. As for the sticks, the thinner ones are brittle and break easily but the 'trunk' of the sapling that I managed (with great difficulty) to break using my bare hands and various stomping actions turns out to be incredibly durable. I will look into placing it near a fire tonight to see if I can harden it further.

 

​Now, to approach the second issue with a great deal of trepidation and uncertainty.

 

I am not in England anymore.

 

The overwhelming evidence points towards this simple conclusion, all of which I managed to gather today. After around two hours of walking, I noticed that the land was unnaturally flat and, as of yet, still devoid of fauna. Feeding off of a small supply of berries I had dried (rather haphazardly, mind) for my lunch, it became obvious that I was seemingly headed nowhere, when I noticed an unfamiliar smell on the wind.

 

As I continued until the late afternoon when I am writing this journal, the smell became more and more prominent - some sort of dry, salty smell permeated the area, insulting my senses and asphyxiating me more than that time I managed to knock over one jar of Chlorine, Hydrochloric acid and Sulphur consecutively in my lab. Unfortunately this time, I did not have any windows to open and I had to resort to holding my gloved hand over my mouth, but it didn't stop my eyes from stinging. It was around half an hour ago when I heard it.

 

Approaching further, I noticed a blue ribbon had materialized on the horizon to compliment the overcast skies. After five more minutes of walking the land simply stopped - yes, just stopped, as if something had ripped the beach clean out of the land and tossed it far away into the endless void of desaturated blue water I was staring at. The ocean breathed in and out but never managed to crest over the chunk of land that I was standing upon, which provides evidence for a concave shape being eroded away from the dirt beneath my very feet.

 

Journal, this is not a normal land. No land is this flat, no land has no beaches unless it was created mere decades ago. No land is cloudy for this long. No sapling grows to a certain height and dies again without giving any evidence of pollination or reproduction. The coniferous pine tree is not the native tree of England. Large yellow tufts of grass simply do not appear and grow to around knee height in neat, pre-determined places. And nothing, absolutely nothing, can be traversed in around a day's walk to find the sea, unless I started very close to the sea as it is.

 

I have a theory, but I really do not want to dwell on it. The thought alone sends a deep chill in my abdomen, as if something poured liquid nitrogen into my stomach. I will not write it here; perhaps I will be able to forget it, or prove it wrong, and never have to look back on the day when Wilson made a very frightening prediction indeed and sat, furiously scribbling away in his journal, on the cusp of sheer, raw terror for what might be. I am a scientist. I do not meddle with what may and may not be. I meddle with what is, and is not.

 

Now, I shall stop my writing here; there is a small copse of pine trees a few metres to my left with large, interesting looking pieces of flint, and I wish to try my hand at creating an axe to at least cut down some proper branches. If I fail, then I will bloody my hands using that chunk of flint to hack away at the low hanging branches because I will not sit through another dark night again.

 

~~~

Thank you for the positive feedback! I enjoy writing these. These first few days will be quite dull, mind, as Wilson gets his bearings...which is why I'm putting his thoughts into the entries a bit more, trying to keep it more personalized than reading...well, field notes. XD Also, those little asterisks were my doing - I was trying my hand at 'editing' some of the text posts themselves. You'll see more of that in a major way as the plot develops. Stuff like words being scribbled out, etc.

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       night2_zps1216ee42.png


2 NIGHTS


NO SLEEP


I C AN' T


....


 


 


 


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DAY 3


 


How embarrassing. You can see the delirious "Night notes" that I felt compelled to write down...well, I cannot rip that page out too, as it had some important fact on it, which I will write in a more precise and sane manner:


 


Strands of grass, tied around one of the heavy sticks from the saplings, and then wrapped around a piece of flint, makes an axe.


 


A piece of flint on both sides could make a pickaxe? But I have no need for such a tool just yet.


 


These pieces of flint started to increase in frequency as I entered the smaller copse of pine trees, with the sole purpose of cutting down a few to make some logs for a decent fire this time. Again, I refuse to fall back into these...to be frank, these unintelligent ramblings I tend to spew onto the page whenever the fire is going low and it is still night. They will not do well for my moral resolve. I am a scientist. I do not believe in what may or may not be.


 


As it turns out, cutting down a tree is agonizing, gruelling work. I'll admit right now; I am not exactly the most "well-defined" gentleman, as you see some strong, handsome oaks and then a, uhm, a thin birch tree as a comparison in build between myself and these so-called 'men' that you find lurking around London on a rainy night. The axe was useful, as were my gloves, because I was fairly sure that my palms would be rubbed as red and as blistered as my fingers are. Even writing down today's progress stings like a swarm of bees. It took me a long time to fell the first tree.


 


​I have to admit, the prospect was exhilarating; I had knocked over one of the proudest and longest-living inhabitants of the land, ripped it from its home, and butchered it into tiny pieces for my own gain. "Take that, nature!" I cried (but it was more of an exhausted wheeze) as the tree crashed onto the dry grasses. I spent the rest of the day hacking away at it - the smell of pine sap is nauseating, and I believe at some point in the afternoon I doubled over, gagging and retching, but had nothing in my stomach to emit so the whole idea of being sick was simply laughable.


 


Ah, yes, I forgot to mention that. I ran out of food after breakfast this morning. I did some...experiments, with different parts of the pine tree and the results are very definite - for health and safety reasons, I will no longer consume anything from a thing that isn't meant to be food. The results were disastrous. I never knew that matter could come out of both ends if one had food poisoning as bad as I I shan't spare you the details, journal. You don't want to know. And I don't want to re-live it.


 


Around mid-afternoon, I was plucking strips of grass from the ground idly, when I noticed a small bump - orange and crested with deep green, springy leaves. This was my first carrot find and once I really set my mind to it, I realised there were more of these wild carrots scattered around the plains when the berry bushes were scarce. It could be a contest between the berry bushes and the carrots in terms of natural selection, but...I have another theory, and like the first one, I don't want to put it onto paper. It feels like even bringing it out of my head will bring it to existence. With a veritable feast of root vegetables to consume, I shall stop for tonight, but not until I have explained today's progress in terms of the whole 'finding civilization' issue.


 


I have followed the edge of the sea for a while now, and I have to admit, there is more evidence still for my dreaded theory. For starters, the sea is devoid of ships, and the sea birds do not stray too far away from the coast (could it be called a coast? More the 'edge' of the land) where they fly, but do not catch any aquatic life. Also, rather unnervingly, I could've sworn I saw various numbers of large, triangular fins. Sharks, in a climate this cold? There are no breeds of sharks in cold waters. None that I know of, anyway. Or, at least, none that have been discovered...


 


It's been three days and I haven't seen any hints of civilization. Not even the ashes of a campfire. No footprints. No felled trees. No harvested fruits.


 


I think I'm on my own out here.


 


 


 


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DAY 4


 


Just yesterday I had said that I believed I was completely on my own, and this morning I awoke to the sight of dry, dark rabbit pellets scattered around the grass I was sleeping on. These beasts are everywhere, now that I seemed to have traversed an invisible border into what may very well be a plush utopia for these long-eared, fluffy-tailed monstrosities.


 


Journal, let me make it clear right now that I do not like​ nature. It is incredibly primitive. Plants , I can deal with, but the animals that screech and wail and claw and breathe and stare at you like you're the primitive one...they do not bode well with me, at all.


 


A diet of only small berries and pathetic carrots would not sustain me. I must apply my knowledge on the wonders of Science to capture a specimen, I thought, in order to dissect it with my teeth and digest it and prove to this unknown land that I am still at the top of the food chain!


 


It took me all morning to figure out how to go about actually catching the animals. Capture by hand failed horribly and resulted in a mouthful of grass and what I hope were small pellets of mud. Eventually, I started to use those disturbingly convenient and regularly occurring saplings and tufts of grass to construct a small basket with a stick to prop it up. As it turns out, the crafty little blighters saw through my guise - who doesn't want to crawl into a nice, cozy and not-too-suspicious basket? I had to use the last of my carrots to bait the trap before I really caught a couple of them.


 


I shall tell you now, with as much honesty as I can - whilst I dislike nature in all of it's forms, I spent all afternoon with two bound and squirming rabbits, staring at them hopelessly, flint in hand. I am not a monster. I am not a savage. I am a scientist, and it seemed too...unethical to simply split them open. There were a myriad of options in order to slaughter and consume the rabbits, but there was also...a something. An unstoppable and irresistible force pulling back on my wrist, letting them stay alive for just a little bit longer, aware of the gravity of the downwards stroke and the important milestone in my life that it would entail. I tried to think of a word for it, and a new voice faded in the back of my mind, sick and rasping.


 


"Cowardice," it said.


 


But it is now late afternoon and two rabbits are roasting over my small fire. The smell of burnt hair makes my eyes water (I could not skin the beasts without taking off valuable meat) and it must be the most delicious smell of roasting rabbit underneath the stench of at least five years of dirt and grime under all of that fur. I shan't go into the details of the death of those two rabbits...merely that it occurred, and as Darwin used to say: "A scientific man ought to have no wishes, no affections, - a mere heart of stone." 


I hope you are looking down upon me, Mr Darwin, and smiling at a prime example of Survival of the Fittest taking place on these godless lands.


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Wilson just screaming "NATURE, IT'S ALL OVER ME, GET IT OFF!" basically.

All though you raise an interesting point with the first time of having to kill something and the thoughts on it. I suppose some characters would have an easier time with it (probably Woodie) and others not so much. I enjoy the extra thought you're putting into this! I envy you writer people for that. 

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Wilson just screaming "NATURE, IT'S ALL OVER ME, GET IT OFF!" basically.

All though you raise an interesting point with the first time of having to kill something and the thoughts on it. I suppose some characters would have an easier time with it (probably Woodie) and others not so much. I enjoy the extra thought you're putting into this! I envy you writer people for that. 

 

Mhm, the first...10 days or so will be Wilson being his scientist self. I think after day 5 he starts growing a beard, so let's look out for that, and well...I've got a plot up my sleeve, it's just taking an absolute age to get into it!

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Mhm, the first...10 days or so will be Wilson being his scientist self. I think after day 5 he starts growing a beard, so let's look out for that, and well...I've got a plot up my sleeve, it's just taking an absolute age to get into it!

 

Pretty good stories so far. I wonder why Wilson didn't note the strange antlers the rabbits have (jackalopes is the term for the mythical creature I believe). Does he just not care because he's hungry and views all forms of nature as abominations?

 

Other than that, I look forward to what you come up with next ;)

Edited by Warden
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Do you write professionally? I'm a bit awestruck by these.

 

...I don't, but that's a huge morale booster coming from you. I actively stalk your story thread! (Wait, is that a bad thing to say...) I'm a big fan. Thank you so much! I remember squeaking with surprise when I saw my name in your Signature, then realised you didn't mean me, just...Field notes. xD

 

Pretty good stories so far. I wonder why Wilson didn't note the strange antlers the rabbits have (jackalopes is the term for the mythical creature I believe). Does he just not care because he's hungry and views all forms of nature as abominations?

 

Other than that, I look forward to what you come up with next ;)

 

...he didn't notice the antlers because I forgot about the antlers because it must be antler-shedding season for the rabbits! Whatever season that may be. Late spring, apparently. I'll fix that right away, actually, in day 5; perhaps those two just lost their antlers for some reason such as a mating fight, or accident down in the burrow.

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DAY 5

 

I am fairly certain that I am not in a place that I know of anymore. This fog has rolled in from the seas early on in the morning, and when I awoke I was certain that I had rolled onto my back and was staring dully into the skies above. You can imagine, then, my surprise when I held a hand out and touched the grass just ahead of me. It was so thick that I could've cut it with a knife...except I had no knife and it was simply a dense amount of low-hanging water vapour. A few sudden thoughts came to my mind as swiftly as a reaction happens to take place, the first of which being "If I am ambushed, I won't be able to see it coming." and then the second, was vague and something along the lines of a different weather pattern contributing to the usual grey skies, something to do with how I was meant to document that for research...Actually, I am quite surprised that I did remember. And now I am even more disturbed about the fact I forgot.

 

Don't you understand? It's this place, it's getting to me! The fact I thought first of survival and THEN science is a completely new and frightening concept! Now, I shall be honest; I feel like my intellect is slipping with each passing day. It is getting harder to think and focus on my own rescue when I consider the complete and utter solitude that I am encased in. It is difficult to recall certain important facts, things such as...documenting species. Would you believe it, if I told you that I forgot a very vital part of my research just yesterday?

 

The rabbits. The rabbits have these, these antennae, these horns protruding from the forehead. I noticed it on the skulls of the ones I ate last night, where bumps from the broken horns were protruding from the bone! I couldn't believe it, these were a new, unknown species of animal and I called them 'Rabbits'?! Clearly, they need a new name. A good name, a name that would mark their discovery for ages to come.

 

I'd think you'd understand then, Journal, if I deem it appropriate to call them "Percies".

 

If I happen to read this page later on when I am rescued, then forgive my sudden...outburst of nostalgic melodrama. As you and I both know, this trip to the...the wilderness, is quite taxing on my mind and the lack of sleep is starting to make me feel quite emotional. Should anyone who does NOT know the story happen upon this book; it is my own personal business. The name Percy holds a very special meaning, close to my heart. And if you find any horned  rabbits then you have a good name to call them by.

 

...Wasn't I meant to be recording the progress of today? There was no progress, Journal. I blundered through the fog and felled another tree (as if that wasn't back-breaking enough trying to do the first one) to get wood for the fire tonight. I spent the entire afternoon capturing Percies for my dinner. I made no progress today. This is a frightening concept. I must persevere, I must continue trying to locate rescue, and I must not succumb to the necessities of survival before rescue either. However, I cannot stand the dark nights...the noises... It is difficult, as you should know, to drag a bundle of logs with you wherever you happen to go. Until I find a way to bring the logs along with ease, I might have hit a temporary standstill.

 

~~~~

 

I'm so excited, the plot's starting to fall in now! And I am INCREDIBLY excited for Day 6 too. I think you might enjoy Day 6 a lot.

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Fog_zpsb8028fc8.png

DAY 5

 

I am fairly certain that I am not in a place that I know of anymore. This fog has rolled in from the seas early on in the morning, and when I awoke I was certain that I had rolled onto my back and was staring dully into the skies above. You can imagine, then, my surprise when I held a hand out and touched the grass just ahead of me. It was so thick that I could've cut it with a knife...except I had no knife and it was simply a dense amount of low-hanging water vapour. A few sudden thoughts came to my mind as swiftly as a reaction happens to take place, the first of which being "If I am ambushed, I won't be able to see it coming." and then the second, was vague and something along the lines of a different weather pattern contributing to the usual grey skies, something to do with how I was meant to document that for research...Actually, I am quite surprised that I did remember. And now I am even more disturbed about the fact I forgot.

 

Don't you understand? It's this place, it's getting to me! The fact I thought first of survival and THEN science is a completely new and frightening concept! Now, I shall be honest; I feel like my intellect is slipping with each passing day. It is getting harder to think and focus on my own rescue when I consider the complete and utter solitude that I am encased in. It is difficult to recall certain important facts, things such as...documenting species. Would you believe it, if I told you that I forgot a very vital part of my research just yesterday?

 

The rabbits. The rabbits have these, these antennae, these horns protruding from the forehead. I noticed it on the skulls of the ones I ate last night, where bumps from the broken horns were protruding from the bone! I couldn't believe it, these were a new, unknown species of animal and I called them 'Rabbits'?! Clearly, they need a new name. A good name, a name that would mark their discovery for ages to come.

 

I'd think you'd understand then, Journal, if I deem it appropriate to call them "Percies".

 

If I happen to read this page later on when I am rescued, then forgive my sudden...outburst of nostalgic melodrama. As you and I both know, this trip to the...the wilderness, is quite taxing on my mind and the lack of sleep is starting to make me feel quite emotional. Should anyone who does NOT know the story happen upon this book; it is my own personal business. The name Percy holds a very special meaning, close to my heart. And if you find any horned  rabbits then you have a good name to call them by.

 

...Wasn't I meant to be recording the progress of today? There was no progress, Journal. I blundered through the fog and felled another tree (as if that wasn't back-breaking enough trying to do the first one) to get wood for the fire tonight. I spent the entire afternoon capturing Percies for my dinner. I made no progress today. This is a frightening concept. I must persevere, I must continue trying to locate rescue, and I must not succumb to the necessities of survival before rescue either. However, I cannot stand the dark nights...the noises... It is difficult, as you should know, to drag a bundle of logs with you wherever you happen to go. Until I find a way to bring the logs along with ease, I might have hit a temporary standstill.

 

~~~~

 

I'm so excited, the plot's starting to fall in now! And I am INCREDIBLY excited for Day 6 too. I think you might enjoy Day 6 a lot.

 

 

Haha. "Percies" named after his middle name Percival :-) I'm guessing he's going to start naming every new creature he finds after himself and gives them peculiar names that link to his name somehow.

 

I believe horned rabbits are mythical folklore creatures called Jackalopes (I believe I stated this in my previous post a while back), but Percies is more humorous and original sounding than Jackalopes.

 

Perhaps Wilson doesn't have much knowledge of folklore to know that considering he only bothers with factual stuff, mainly because he is a scientist. Anyway, good to see your new addition to his journal and I'm looking forward to reading more.

Edited by Warden
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I was thinking of calling them jackalopes but, as you said; Wilson isn't a fairytale kind of guy. Also, I'm glad people saw that he named it after himself XD There's another meaning behind it that I'll explore later on.

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