King of Winter(fanfiction by TrebleStudios)

[TrebleStudios]

This is the story for the art on my other thread If you enjoy the story, see the illustrations behind it. I apologize in advance if any of these chapters seem rushed. If they sound like they are at any point of the story, please let me know, and I will fix it. Enjoy!

DON'T STARVE:

KING of WINTER

Don't Starve© Klei Entertainment

Story by TrebleStudios

~*Chapter One

Winter had come much more quickly than anyone would have anticipated. The sky was bruised and angry, foreshadowing an upcoming storm. A crisp breeze blew through the woodland. Despite the closing darkness, the group pressed on, seemingly unfazed. They were determined to make it to the grasslands that showed on the other side of the strange map they were given upon entry of this hostile environment. The group had intended to take the fight to the man in charge, the one sending them troubles daily, the one intending to see them dead. They intended to bring the fight to Maxwell, but he has once again stumped their progress.

Exhausted, they sat in the freshly fallen snow and the men quickly assembled a fire. For moments they sat in a tense silence before the noiseless dome was broken.

“I'm hungry,” came a small, innocent voice. It was the child of the group, Wendy, who was seated close to the brawn of the travelers.

He patted her on her small shoulder. “We know, kid,” he said gently.

“I'm sure we've got some stored,” said an older woman who sat with her dress skirt pulled to her ankles in an effort to stay warm. She looked over as another shook their head.

“We used the last of it this morning,” he replied before scratching his thick ginger beard.

Everyone sighed in discontentment. Someone threw a log onto the quickly diminishing flames.

“Why don't we go get something?” piped another woman, younger than the last that spoke. She flipped one of her pigtails off her shoulder.

“There's a storm coming,” came an exhausted tone from the young man beside her. He was fiddling with a small twig, only to be interrupted by a cough or shiver. By the look of his face, he was definitely sick. “and it's already too close to night to be moving again. Just wait.”

“Wait,” she tutted at the scientist, turning to him with a spark of anger in her dark brown spheres. “We'll more likely die of starvation sooner than that storm can hit us.”

Wilson looked at her calmly. He felt too weak to raise his voice, and it would also hurt to do so. “Exactly.” He gazed at the distant and darkening clouds. “By the looks of it, we have a few days before the storm hits. Just wait until tomorrow.”

Willow growled before sitting back to her position in front of the fire. As Wilson returned to fiddling with the object in his hands, Willow turned to those on her left and conversed in a hushed tone, occasionally looking over her shoulder at the lounging scientist. Wilson pretended that he didn't hear them, that he couldn't see them. Since joining this group of people for a bit of social interaction, there had been a tension between them all. No one trusted him for reasons Wilson found trivial. He happened to be cunning, an acquired trait the other travelers found untrustworthy. Devious was what he heard one day.

Wilson sighed, coughed, and turned his gaze to the forest around him. As the conversation beside him continued, he tossed another log onto the flames and wrapped his breezy jacket tightly around his shoulders. He stared, lost in thought, into the flames, and was therefore startled when a tap landed on his shoulder.

It was Willow again, and Wilson could honestly care less about what she wanted to say.

“The rest of us are going to-”

“I know,” the gentleman said quickly before coughing again. Wilson shivered and turned his gaze away from her. He sniffled before continuing. “Good luck.”

Willow moved away from him slowly before following the others who had already begun to move. Wilson turned his head slightly as a sound of concern arose from the little girl, but it was too hushed for Wilson to decipher. Soon, though, they were out of sight, disappeared into the trees, leaving the scientist alone for what he thought was a simple evening. As the darkness began to consume to surrounding woodland, Wilson began to worry. Were they victims to an unfortunate accident? Was he left for dead? Thoughts like this ran through Wilson's head, and he couldn't keep himself from highly considering his second option.

[Tjally]

This is very exciting so far, though I got confused at the 'hims' in the beginning. Please do continue, I would love to see more!

[Tesability]

This intro kind of explains some of the pics in the other thread. Hypothermia doesn't tend to leave your lungs in shreds, though combo that with possible pneumonia...yeesh.

[TrebleStudios]

This is very exciting so far, though I got confused at the 'hims' in the beginning. Please do continue, I would love to see more!

I'll try to be a bit more careful with that next time. Sorry about that! Good to know you're enjoying this.

[TrebleStudios]

King of Winter

~*Chapter Two

Sorry this took so long, I've been distracted with rehearsals for an upcoming musical. Also, another page had been added in the other thread(link in first chapter). I hope this one doesn't sound rushed. I'be been having trouble writing lately. If there is anything wrong this this that you may notice, please let me know. Enjoy!

A whipping and whistling wind raced from the north, stirring up snow in it's path and creating a blizzard. Visibility was poor (I dare say there was none at all,) and to look anywhere above one's foot was nearly impossible to do, for the air borne flakes lashed your face, stinging it with the chill of winter. The darkness had come, engulfing all life and locking up the sun in the dark cage of night.

Wilson was alone. I was right, he thought as he curled up under the cover of a tall evergreen. Although the temporary shelter helped little, it was all the scientist could do to make an attempt to get through the night. The thick needles of the pine blocked out most of the wind, but not the chill. His fire had gone out about an hour before the storm came, and Wilson had been left in the dark since then. The gentleman was slightly surprised that the storm hit so soon, when it looked about a day away earlier that evening.

Maxwell, Wilson reasons with a hacking cough. It was probably him. It had to be him. The little demon brought his brewing storm over them a day early to, yet again, stop their progress.

Or to finish them off. Whichever, Wilson couldn't care less about. He was simply focused on making it through the night...Then the thought that he probably wouldn't bubbled into his consciousness. Tears began to well in his eyes as curled into a tighter ball and cursed the Puppet Master under his breath.

Wilson groaned as he tried to move himself even the slightest. His entire body ached and refused to move. The cold had begun to affect his limbs as well as his lungs. As Wilson took a sharp intake of breath, they ached as well. Wilson coughed again, sniffled, an began to cry, which was very unlike him. Wilson fought with himself, trying to stop, but his emotions overcame his pride. Wilson was convinced that he was left to die, in fact, he knew it. There was no doubt in his mind. So, as the wind and snow pounded the trees, and the scientist himself, and the cold stiffened his body, Wilson waited for the relief of death. He prayed for it.

The hours of the night pressed on, and Wilson continued to suffer in the way the others had left him. Alone, exhausted, and forgotten. As sleep began to take over, and Wilson closed his eyes, a voice, loud in clear in the easing storm, caught his attention.

“Say, pal. You don't look so good.”

Wilson watched as the strangely familiar figure knelt before him and looked at him hard. A cigar was held in his lips, his slender hands were gloved, and a long, warm-looking winter coat lashed behind him in the wind. Wilson longed for that warmth, but he was to weak to set out for it. He moved not from his spot in the snow; Wilson simply drew back slightly. He knew who he was by now, the quote and cigar gave it all away. The man's dapper appearance said it all. The scientist wanted nothing to do with him, and therefore remained silent.

Maxwell crept slightly closer, now on his knees before the figure under the tree. “You don't look so good,” he said, his voice muffled by the cigar in his mouth.

“Why do you care?”Wilson spat, his feeble voice no more than a whisper, no matter how hard he tried to change that. “You dragged me here to die for your own amusement.”

Maxwell's eyes flashed with anger. “Watch it, pal. You're starting to sound ungrateful.” He flicked the ashes from his cigar onto the settling snow. “If I didn't give a damn, I wouldn't be here.”

Wilson scoffed, shivered, and coughed harder than the last time. The pain in his throat reflected on his face, moving the other man with a pity he hid so well behind his poker face.

“You doubt me?” Maxwell questioned.

Wilson opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by another coughing fit. Maxwell began to move towards him, and Wilson cast him a warning glace, although there was nothing to warn the other of. Wilson could barely move, barely breathe...

[Underscore_]

Nice to see a story with ol' Woodie in it, will we be seeing more of him?

[TrebleStudios]

Nice to see a story with ol' Woodie in it, will we be seeing more of him?

In other scenes with that group of characters, but not too often. There is a sketch I did of him on my other thread. It was a little rushed, but I think it came out okay. Edited July 24, 2013 by TrebleStudios

[BurningSprite]

Very nice,you rarely see a story with all the DS characters in it, but update as soon as you can please

10/10

[TrebleStudios]

Very nice,you rarely see a story with all the DS characters in it, but update as soon as you can please

10/10

 

I'm sorry I haven't been updating this lately. I've been distracted with trying to finish the illustrated version of this. I'm almost finished. Perhaps then I'll get back to this.

I'm glad you like this, though