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  1. After surviving a rather terrifying experience, Wilson P. Higgsbury finds himself once more in the wilderness of the Shadow World trying to cope with the conditions being thrown at him. Though what he didn't count on was the arrival of a new ruler... and someone he isn't sure he can call an ally. --------- Been putting this for awhile now since I was trying to get Survive the Shadows done and now that the main arc is finished, I can finally begin this alternate timeline to it, the Don't Starve Together Journals. A series of shorts and mini comics following more adventures in the Shadow World. While still following some of the lore from Survive the Shadows, the Journals will also be following some of the game lore as well. It's basically a hybrid of the two. So yeah, I hope you enjoy what I have to offer in this thread of mine. To note, the comics will not be done digitally. They will be done traditionally in ink and pencil so... just keep that in mind. (It's kind of an experimental thing.)
  2. Summary: Welcome to the Umbra Region a melting pot for people and Pokemon alike… Where life continues just as it has for as long as it’s existed… But this isn’t about legendary fights, or evil teams… Join me Professor Wilson Higgsbury into a fantastical world… The world of Pokemon. (Banner: @Aileen-Rose ) The Professor “Hello! My name is Professor Wilson Higgsbury! But those in these parts call me The Pokemon Professor! I’m here to help new trainers start their journey as a special hub through the Umbra region a melting pot of different Pokemon and people too! Please don’t hesitate to stop by my laboratory and choose the Pokemon who will become your partner!” Wilson Higgsbury sighed as he listened to his old recording. He was much younger back then and things had seemed to much brighter. Fresh out of college, finally able to start his own lab and provide starters for new trainers like his grandfather had before him. It was ten years since that day and now at thirty three.. It seemed no one wanted to even walk in the door. He admitted the place was intimidating upon first glance but he had to build it that way! They’d all get out if he didn’t! And he thought it looked nice… “Let’s face it… No one wants a Pokemon from crazy Ol’ Wilson…” He looked out the window half hoping to see some new faces scurrying up the steps. But no. That wasn’t happening. He sighed giving a stretch before getting up and grabbing a feed bucket. “Well that’s what happens when people choose to willfully be ignorant…” For you see… In those ten years, there had been plenty of new baby starter Pokemon for Wilson to give out from the various regions… But since no one would ever claim them, he instead wound up with Pokemon who evolved at their own pace and bred. So there was more than enough to fill up his property. He had to duck as two charizards flew by him, roaring at one another. “REMEMBER YOUR MANNERS!” He yelled, shaking his fist at them as he went on his way to deposit the feed for the fire types. He smiled as a group of tiny fire starters huddled around one bowl, happy to eat. He knelt down rubbing the head of a small charmander as it squealed a little. A chimchar climbed up his back, holding onto his head, chittering as it played with his hair. “Chimchar!” Wilson laughed. “Don’t be naughty now!” The others looked at them, back at their food and back to Wilson… Wilson knew the look as he scrambled to get up. “CHAR!/FENNEKIN!/TOR!/CHIM!/TEP!/CYNDAQUIL!” He was tackled to the ground under a pile of very warm, very cuddly pokemon. He sighed before grinning, hugging them all close to him as best as he could. While it got lonely up there… he would admit, he loved nothing more than playing with the Pokemon and tending to them. Giving attention to the little ones, organizing training battles to help them run off some energy. Grooming some, or giving baths to others. “Tepig, do not eat those pokeblock out of my pocket-Chimchar my hair is not a chew toy! Charmander, I told you not to eat those granola bars-Torchic that tickles and-CYNDAQUIL!” The small Johto starter seemed to snicker to itself as it ran off with his shoe in its mouth. Wilson pointed to it. “Get them!” The tiny herd scurried off as they more so play wrestled. He eventually was able to swoop in and take his prize back. “Whew…” He went about his routine, getting everyone fed, checking up on those who had managed to scrape themselves up. It took a long time but worth it. Be it swimming with the water types, or having the grass types lift him up to get to other areas faster… He loved it. Wilson looked down from a rock he was seated upon on a cliff that overlooked his whole property. All the different pokemon from every region… and all of them under his care. While ideally he hoped one day some trainers would come and ease him of a few of the little ones… He just wasn’t sure anymore if he could separate them. It was rare for professors in charge of starters to be able to naturally see on their own property how the individual types interacted with one another. And while they were all different types there was one thing he was positive of… They were family. His family. oooooo At least… most of them were. Occasionally, during the spring, when most young trainers from their childhood to late teens were leaving home, he would still get boxes of new starter pokeballs. During these events he would give them time until late spring at the longest to let them be separate from the herds out back… But most of the time he still wound up introducing them since in his ten years of being their caretaker no starter liked staying in their pokeball forever. I swear one of these days I’m going to send them all back! Maybe take a few spare evolution stones and send ‘em back loyal to me. See how those other guys think sending more to me is a great idea! He thought bitterly one morning as he unloaded three new pokeballs from Kalos. He could only say his thanks that the Umbra Region’s ties with the mysterious Alola Region wasn’t tight enough that he was getting a box of starters from there too. “I do not need fire kittens or grass owls in addition to everyone else.” He sighed, letting the new arrivals out for their morning feed. He looked out the window after making sure everyone was playing nice. And couldn’t believe his eyes. Someone was coming up the walkway. He felt giddy. Maybe someone finally didn’t believe the rumors about his sanity! “Okay, be cool, be cool.” Wilson took a deep breath steadying himself. He looked out the window raising an eyebrow as the person was coming into view. They were too old to be a new trainer… He would admit, he knew some people didn’t get pokemon at the usual ages but that was unusual. It was a young woman with long dark hair tied into two long ponytails. She was wearing a pair of copper red pants with a pink shirt and a scarf that looked almost like it was made out of fire. There was soon a knock at the door. Wilson hurried to open it. “U-Um hello.” He greeted mentally cursing himself. “Where are they?” The woman asked trying to brush past him. “H-Hey excuse me!” Wilson threw an arm out in front of her. “It’s common courtesy to say “hello” back you know!” “E-Erm sorry!” The woman apologized giving a sheepish look. “I heard you had a whole ton of different fire types… I… Wanted to see them.” Wilson blinked. “See them? … You’re not here to take a starter?” “W-What? Oh no I grew up in Kalos, so I got mine from the professor there about… Ten years ago I believe?” “What’s your name?” He asked. “And I apologize for my manners, I’m Wilson Higgsbury, the man in charge.” “Willow Ashworth sir.” She smirked, crossing her arms. “But I’m better known as The Firestarter.” The Firestarter… Where have I heard that name before? “I see? But why are you here if you just want to see fire types? There’s plenty of places in the world.. The Charicific Valley in Johto, the volcano on Cinnabar Island-” “I wanna see just fire starters. I think they're adorable… And I don’t wanna go to those places. Been there and done that.” She smirked holding up a pokeball that was attached to a necklace she wore. “Me and my delphox have seen most of it. As have my team.” “So your delphox wouldn’t be interested in a kit?” He asked pointing to the latest Fennekin who was eating. Willow looked at it and squealed, darting over picking up, the little fox. “Oh my goodness I haven’t seen one of you since I was ten!” “Fen?” The little Pokemon tilted it, head, wondering why this strange lady was holding it. “Aww! Delphi used to do that too!” Willow squealed, hugging it close to her, nuzzling the top of its head, enjoying the warmth. “And oh torchic and charmander…” She knelt down looking at the baby Pokemon with nostalgia in her eyes. “I had those too!” “Did you now?” Wilson asked curious. “Yep. Fully evolved into blaziken and charizard… I wish I could have baby pokemon again but I don’t have the room… I stopped traveling awhile ago and my place is only big enough for the seven of us.” She explained, getting her chance to hug the other fire type starters, quietly squealing as they kept close. “I just love them!” “Heh… You should see out back.” She looked to him curious. “What’s out back?” Wilson grinned. It had been a long time since he was able to show off his pokemon. “Come and see.” oooooo Willow gasped as Wilson lead her to his cliffside. “This… is what I get to do every day.” He said, making a wide gesture as a pair of charizards flew by. Groups of sceptile and serperior sunning themselves atop the backs of torterras. Venusaurs and their herds of bulbasaur and ivysaur. A large blastoise stretched over the edge of the lake before a few squirtles jumped onto its back as it jumped into the water causing a wave that swept back an empoleon and its piplup. Infernape's and blazikens trained against one another. A group of delphox practiced with their mysterious fire, showing younger braixen how it was done. A typhlosion gave a roar before scooping up a cyndaquil, heading off. “You get to raise them all?” “Oh, their parents do that for them!” Wilson laughed. “I just help… But most of the pokemon on this property I’ve helped hatch or deliver in the last ten years. Some are starters from last year’s batch but they fit in with the rest. The others just take them in as their own.” “But doesn’t it hurt them more then when trainers come?” Willow asked, not taking her eyes off the property. Wilson smirked, a saddened look in his eyes. “Who says trainers ever come for them? You could take those little ones in the main part of the lab away and no trainers would ever come. This isn’t just where I raise starters…” He looked back over the property. “This is where I raise the unwanted.” Willow looked to him, frowning a little. “No one’s ever come for starters from you… Have they?” “Not in the ten years I’ve been here and likely not in the ten years to come. But that’s alright.” He smiled a little. “After all this time… I can’t bear to part with the ones I’ve helped take care of since they were small. It’s easier when they’re freshly out of their regions… But as much as I love having new additions… I feel bad they’re never able to do what other starters get to. And it’s hard doing it all alone. By the time I’m done feeding everyone breakfast, it’s lunch time and by the time that’s done, I do a bit of my research… But then the dinner bell rings and-Yeah…” “You look exhausted too.” Willow said, taking note of the dark circles around his eyes. He shrugged. “It honestly doesn’t bother me. When you have new little ones as often as I do you’re used to getting up in the middle of the night to tend to them.” “But it has to get lonely..” “It does sometimes. I won’t lie.” He motioned for her to follow him as he started walking back down. “But I have my family. And that’s all that matters.” “You seriously are alone here, huh?” “Indeed I am my dear.” Willow looked around biting her lip. Her own travels hadn’t exactly been full of friendships and joy. Most people were afraid of her and she got thrown out of gyms for setting the places on fire occasionally by accident. Usually grass gyms. Ugh I’m on a lifetime ban from the Celadon City gym… She sighed. “Hey, Professor.” “Hm? And please, just Wilson will do.” “I’m coming by again tomorrow.” He stopped short, looking at her perplexed. He hadn’t had anyone saying they’d visit since… Since before his grandfather had retired and closed his own labs’ doors! “What?” “Is there a problem?” “N-No.” He shook his head. “No problem at all… But… Why do you want to come back?” “I wanna help.” She told him with a small smirk. “I have nowhere important to be.” “Are you sure? It’s going to be messy.” He warned her. “I never back down from a challenge. The Firestarter never backs down.” “... Very well. In fact, if you want to help, I could use it right now.” Willow perked up grinning. “Alrighty! What do I do first?” Wilson gave a perfectly innocent smile before offering her a shovel. “... What’s this for?” “I’m digging a new mud pit for the tepig evolutionary line. You can help me with it!” “U-Um I was thinking like… Training some of the other pokemon with mine. O-Or playing with the babies.” “Well the little tepigs love playing in the dirt.” Wilson smirked. “Now chop chop. Time is food around here.” He pointed to where it was as she shrugged, heading off to do her task grumbling a bit. Heh…We’ll see if she actually wants to come back. Grandfather had me mucking out stalls for ponyta and rapidash when I was a lad! Willow waited until Wilson had his back turned before an idea came to her. She grinned to herself as she grabbed one of her pokeballs. “Let’s go arcanine!” She called throwing an ultra ball high into the air as the firey wolf formed from the light. “Use dig! Make a nice deep hole!” Arcanine gave a gleeful look. Finally something to dig up besides the neighbor’s rose bush! Wilson jumped seeing a large amount of dirt flying as Willow laughed to herself. “YES! HAHA! KEEP AT IT BOY!” “What in the name of Arceus?” He wondered aloud. The meganium who was laying near him shook her head before four little chikorita jumped on her back. “True I should’ve stayed close by. I’ll be back.” He hurried over dodging dirt… Seeing a deep enough pool to house a fully grown venusaur and torterra comfortably. “WILLOW WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” “Hey Wil!” She called up waving. “I’m digging!” “T-That’s deep enough!” He called down making an X shape with his arms. “Stop!” “Arcanine that’s enough!” She called her pokemon back mid-digging spree. “Well?” Wilson rubbed his forehead looking at it. It was large… But it was… oddly perfect. “... Okay… You win. It’s fine. Thank you.” “And I can dig more-” “NO!” She might be a valuable asset… If my lab survives her Arcanine!
  3. So all the cool kids on the block are making their fanart threads. @Arlesienne is neither cool nor a kid, but apparently has just tried. People browsing this, well... to quote Różewicz, they came to see a poet and that's rather boring for the great populace, but Minespatch asked and just how do you refuse MINESPATCH so I oblige and... Well, introductions aren't my strength. So just take a look at this if you want, starring OCs by @minespatch, @ScienceMachine and @DragonMage156 as well as @GiddyGuy (as himself based on this) and my own kiddie. It's quite inspired by the excellent players: @Fortie as Webber Slapy as Wigfrid (on hiatus) Sugarcombo as Ruri FuzzyIggyPoyo as Demo Daniel as Soldier In a nutshell: a dark little story about a girl and her toys. Consider it tagged mature for one instance of strong language (dependent on your side of the pond), the dark setting, mental issues, shtuff... Oh, and for elfeminate puns! * * * Whoever needs a bit more of an introduction, here you go. This is also the blurb of our roleplaying campaign Project Rosebud. Otherwise just skip to this fat post.
  4. "Ardiente"

    I swear it's all @minespatch's, @DragonMage156's and @PandoMish's fault, I hold no liability to this writ! Also, starring @Chris1488 and @Mr.P. Apparently. Plus quite a host of the Klei overlords. Again, their fault for immortalising themselves as pigmen.
  5. 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.
  6. Alright, guys, in a wave of inspiration I have finished my back story for Abigail and Wendy! I hope you all enjoy and please tell me what you think! A WORD OF CAUTION: the following text deals with mature content such as bereavement, violence and racial discrimination. if you feel you are uncomfortable with these concepts, please do not read this tale. I mean to cause no offense. ~~~~~~~~~~ Occultway House had been deserted for six years now; its owner had perished in the Great War, his bereaved family downsizing to a smaller, financially manageable home, two towns away. But the great wooden I-house had two visitors this cold autumn night; two familiar visitors at that: young Wendy and four minutes younger Abigail. Tender footsteps unsettled the dust on the rickety floorboards leading to the girls’ old shared bedroom; in time with each step, Wendy’s hair bunches gently beat the length of her back. “C’mon, Abigail, we have to get this done! The moon is almost out!” An impatient whisper from Wendy, who gestured a hurrying hand to the straggling Abigail. “But... it’s... heavyyy!” She strained for each word, as she exerted her strength to forcing a crate, larger than herself, up the grand staircase. “Gosh, would you stop your complaining?! Just hurry up!” Wendy rushed back down the hallway to the staircase, lending herself to pull the crate from the other side. Together, the two girls managed to eke the crate over the top step, and then Wendy was off down the hall again, leaving Abigail to push the remaining distance alone. Wendy pushed ajar the door to the bedroom; she was careful not to grasp any of the peeling paint. The centrepiece of the room was a great queen-sized bed, which the twins had shared, with ornate bed posts and canopy. The reddish colour scheme – the twins’ favourite – could seldom be seen beneath the grime and now stirring dust. Wendy shot another silent gesture for Abigail to hurry; the legs of the work laden twin began to tremor from the heavy load, which pierced the eerie silence as it scraped along the floorboards of the hallway. A few moments passed, the crate was in and the door was locked – the twins always conscious of anyone entering behind them – and then they were ready. Wendy knelt, fidgeting, waiting edgily for Abigail to lift her nose from a ghoulish hardback book that lay open on the floor. Abigail held in one hand the only candle yet lit. The flame danced teasingly on its wick; without it there would be only darkness, and darkness brings only... They were sat on the circular woolen rug at the foot of the bad, with the crate lying to the left of the bed, closest to the door. There was also a bag of oddities; Wendy had emptied this onto the floor to her right, nearest to the window, which was covered by extravagant drapes – these, in turn, were coated in muck. Silence was the clearest adornment in this old place. Abigail continued to inexhaustibly analyse the text that lay before her. “Abigail, what is taking you so long?!” Wendy finally snapped. The dust beginning to skirt her clothes seemed to jolt away, as though in fright. “Please, Wendy, take thy beak out of my heart.” Abigail retorted calmly and eloquently, daintily turning to the next page of her book. “Argh! What have I told you about quoting your silly little books when you’re talking to me? All you ever do is gorge your greedy little mind on meaningless words! It never gets you anywhere, or you wouldn’t be sat up here in our ramshackle old house with me, doing... this!” Silence. Abigail stared blankly at the pages of her book. She tried to remain stoic, but she found it too hard to respond in another quotation. Her lips visibly trembled as her eyes, hidden by the angle of her now drooping head, welled uncontrollably with tears. “Abigail...?” Wendy queried, her stern tone softening on the final syllable. “It’s these ‘meaningless words’ that are going to bring our daddy back!” Abigail cried, as she tore from the book the closest page she could grab; she crumpled the paper and slammed it to the floor, too docile to throw it at her sister. “When I tried to just get on with things when all the boys and girls at school were picking on us, you had to rise to their petty little challenges, acting out and dragging me into things! You think you’re so perfect but you just... just...” Abigail screwed up her face, throwing her arms over her head in an internal conflict over whether or not she could feasibly insult her sister. “You’re trying to blame me for what happened to us?! It’s not my fault momma made friends with that... that... *****! This was all his faul-” “No it wasn’t! Jonah is just a man, just like any other one! If you actually picked up a book for five minutes instead of hissing every time I looked at one, you might actually learn a thing or two! He was in the war also, just like daddy, and there is nothing wrong with him just because he looks different!” Wendy was taken aback. Her sister had stood up to her. They often talked about how everything had gone wrong since their mother had found another man; the pupils and teachers alike bullied the twins, so they had run away – two towns away, back to their old home, where they lived with their parents before the war. Silence had once again ensued as the two stared down at the floor. Leaning forward and shuffling the short distance across the mat on her knees, Wendy took Abigail into her harms, kissing her gently atop the head. There they stayed for some time; two children, expected to cope with mature concepts in life - death, discrimination, homelessness. They just wanted back their father. A dazed, rumbling groan. It came from inside the crate, immediately drawing the attention of the girls, snapping them away from their tearful embrace. “Oh no!” Wendy reacted worriedly, staring at the closest face of the wooden crate. “Wh-what do we do?!” She frantically queried Abigail, but her eyes remained fixed on the crate. “D-don’t worry Wendy, we can do the ritual quickly, before it fully comes round! Uh, quick, get the candl...” Their hearts dropped; both realised the single candle that had lit the room for their entire stay in the house was about to go out. Wendy scrambled to find the other candles, but when she had emptied her bag, its contents had spread across the floor in dribs and drabs. “W-wendy? Wh-what about those candles?” Abigail squeaked quietly and fearfully, as the stirring beast began to grumble. “I... I think... I think they went under the bed... I, I can’t reach!” The candle went out before she could find anymore. They were left in darkness. “Squeee!” The beast was awake. A boar. “Wendy, it’s awake! It’s awake, Wendy!” The pig immediately began to slam itself against the side of the woodworm-ridden crate; the twins had found it in a backstreet littered discarded old items. It wouldn’t hold for long, and the boar was angry. “L-look, I found the knife, Abigail! C-can you remember the sacrament without the book?” “Wendy, I want to leave, Wendy!” “Come on Abigail, the door was locked and I can’t remember where I put the key, j-just try and recite the sacrament, okay?” Through streams of tears, Abigail began to recite the sacrificial sacrament, stuttering on every word and having to breathe jarred breaths through her staggered inhalations. The wood of the crate splintered and snapped; the brutish, frustrated boar bolted forward. “Don’t worry Abigail, just carry on!” Wendy shook uncontrollably, lifting the knife ready to protect her innocent twin sister. “I feel a strange kinship with- hnkf!” The sacrament was curtailed with a sick take on a hiccup. A stab in the dark. Wendy had missed her target. Abigail lay bleeding. “A-abigail? Abigail?! Abig-” Wendy was cut short by the blow of the brutish boar, which thrashed against Wendy, tossing her limp, unconscious frame to its side as it attempted to find its bearings. Wendy awoke next morning to find an awful truth: the stab wound had proven fatal; who knows for how long Abigail lay, as her punctured lung unwillingly accepted increments of fluid. Wendy herself had received nasty blows to the head and ribs, but nothing major; not that it mattered to her, of course. Wendy’s injuries were immaterial by this point. The doorway stood stripped of its corresponding door, indicating where the boar had made its exit. But Wendy did not exit. She sat with the body of her sister. She continued to sit for some time. She never left, at least not by her own accord... An unfortunate tale, I must admit, but my dealings are not with the fortunate. A part of my job description. How have I told you this story? Well, Abigail came to me herself; told me about her life with Wendy, their trials, their lacking tribulations... she wanted me to help. Well, at least they are both together now. What more could I afford to give to the child? What could she give me in return? . ... My name is Maxwell. I don’t give away happiness for free. ~~~~~~~~~~ EDITS: Lots of edits as I go along; I have a habit of posting first, proof-reading later.