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Black and White and Flames All Over


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This is the story of a particular misadventure I had. 

Having joined the camp somewhere around day eight, it became clear very quickly that we were unprepared. 
Camp was setup right on the border between a deciduous forest and a savannah, with the forest to our backs. 
Woodie was spending all his time building fences and walls to trap people who were AFK, only to burn them alive in a prison of flame. 
This happened five separate times.
Nobody seemed at all concerned about this.
By day twelve, Wortox was exploring the wilds and had not been back to camp in over nine days from what I heard. 
Wilson was sitting by the fire eating all the food and generally being useless. 
Ms. Wickerbottom was doing, quite nearly all of the work needed to keep everyone alive. 
Abigail and I had been collecting meat from the pig farm, spider meat from Webber's nests, and butterfly wings, for almost seven straight days by day fifteen. 

I was at my wits' end from the uselessness of everyone around, so I took a hammer to one of Woodie's precious fences which he had been building around Glommer. 
In response, he incinerated the entire camp. The entire area was engulfed in fire, and the server desperately attempted a rollback only for night to turn to day mid-way through the blaze, ensuring the rollback only saved half of the camp. Woodie claimed I caused the fire, and I managed to convince everyone this simply was NOT so, getting him banned. At this point, everyone else had given up. 
I saw the writing on the wall and started collecting the few useful materials I could find in the remaining chests: some gold, a stack of rocks, a bundle of twigs, a bag of cut grass, a battle spear, a lantern, a fistful of jerky, and a single spider egg. 
Day 19 was fast approaching; people began evacuating the area and vanishing into the woods to start their own camps alone.
Because clearly we worked so well as a team. 

I headed southwest alone to find some more furs. I'm glad I did, because on that trip I could see through chat that the camp was now officially, utterly dissolved, with everyone scattering to the four winds to make independent homes. 
I eventually found a small clearing in a dark forest to the northwest, that had a single pig house, a wormhole, and a few un-dug graves. 
That same wormhole went to the dragonfly's desert on its other end, so I figured the forest clearing was the best possible base of operations for Abigail and I.
I planted the spider egg nearby and prepared for a harsh winter. 

Around day twenty-four, Wigfrid entered my camp and asked if she could stay. Running low on food at the time as my spiders were only yielding glands and silk, I agreed. 
Two days later, my spider nest was gone. Wigfrid swore she had no idea what happened, and since she was also starving to death, I had no choice but to believe her. 
By day twenty-eight, we discovered that a group of three Webbers had in-fact constructed an entire city of silk and web near the dragonfly desert.
They were sitting on a small plateau which was only accessed two ways: a very narrow land bridge they had completely covered in Spider Queens, or, the wormhole I had near my camp. The Webbers and I installed a trade-agreement: they would give me all the meat I could ask for in exchange for the location of the old base. Evidently, there was something still there they wanted but I didn't know what, and they wouldn't tell me. I agreed because food was more important than secrets. 
By day thirty, Wigfrid and I had been surviving entirely on monster steak and honey nuggets, since the only normal food we had left was a stack of honey I scavenged from an abandoned camp in the southern savannah.
The Webbers planned on killing Deerclops with their spider army since they had the largest camp with the most members, they assumed Deerclops would spawn near them. By some cruel joke from the gods, the monster instead spawned in my camp, killing Wigfrid and destroying everything I had. I only survived by escaping to the wormhole and staying warm (and away from the Grue) by the light of Dragonfly's magma pools. 
Two days later the Webbers finally pushed in to attack Deerclops. Only to find that he was already dead, and my base was entirely picked apart by the disgusting vulture that is Wortox (yes, the very same from earlier in the story). 

With no home and no winter clothes, and nothing to trade to the Webbers in exchange for supplies, I was left to freeze to death in the burned-out remains of the old base camp, as everything worth stealing had been taken long earlier by the scavengers. All I had was a fire pit which I lit with my one single twig, a burned science machine that no one took, a burned chest that no one took, a burned crockpot next to a pile of rot, and a shovel with 8% remaining. 

SOMEHOW, I managed to out-live the Webbers by mere minutes, as their base was then incinerated by a Dragonfly-raid gone horribly wrong (I believe a spider got set on fire by one of the magma pools, which spread spider-to-spider all the way to camp, due to the dozens of nests and hundreds of spiders they had). 

The only survivors of that horrible winter was Wortox and Ms. Wickerbottom, although I never found out where either of them were based. 

Does this story have a moral? I have no idea. 

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