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Intro: So, you are new on the forums or haven't really been keeping track of all the puzzles so far that have given us lore for William Carter, or maybe you just want to look through all the discovered lore, then this is the place to be! I will be covering all the puzzles and their sollutions that are related to this mysterious magician, which looks a lot like... Maxwell (dun dun duuun). When a new trailer and puzzle emerge from the Kleilands, this thread will be updated accordingly. At the end of William's story so far there will be links to the resp. puzzle threads so you can have a gander at those aswell. Now let us begin with the story! Some bits are interpreted/added by me to make it a more fluent story. Hope this will help people who want to know William Carter's story and want to look back at the lore discovered from the puzzles All aboard! William Carter, a very dapper Englishman(last residence in London) and stage performer, aboards a ship called Quest and travels from Liverpool to the United States. The ship departs at the 26th of July in the year 1901. His inspection card shows some interesting things. A photo of William accompanies the document, however someone has made scratches through his face. And it is quite worrysome if someone carves your face on a photo with you in it! Someone or something doesn't seem to like William. Also worth noting is that William Carter looks rather similar to that other dapper fellow, Maxwell.. Abracadabra! Time passes and not all is known about what William is doing in America. That is untill he performs as a magician in the Bowery Hall, New York, and according to the poster is "performing feats of the mysterious for your entertainment and edification". Looking at the poster, William looks a bit uneasy when he pulls a rabbit out of his hat, maybe indicating he isn't entirely sure what he is doing? If you wanna look good on your poster you can better look all dashing and confident, no? And his face has been scratched upon again. The person or being that doesn't like him is apparently following William wherever he goes.. Maybe he knows something that he shouldn't know. The success of his magic show is unknown, but the poster looks kinda worn out and there's other advertisements aswell. Hard times... Later on, William is having a hard time in America. It seems he is in financial trouble or just doesn't feel like paying for the magic items he has purchased/he forgot about it entirely. He has gotten two enveloppes by mail, the first one containing a threat letter and a payment ticket. William bought some marked cards, a gimmicked tophat and two docile rabbits from George T. Witherstone, a seller of dramatic props and magical apparel. The payment of $7.10 is overdue, and someone is not happy about that. An ultimatum is set: If William doesn't pay the money this week, he will be in trouble. This is written in the letter: "William! You are late again! Where is the muny? Do you think Mr. Witherstone is runnin a charatee? You better pay up this week or there will be trouble! I will find you!" Judging from the writing skills of the one that send the threat letter, it could be a very muscular yet dim-witted individual. Wolfgang doesn't seem to have poor grammar skills, he just talks relatively simple which is probably due to his non-English origin. It is unlikely he wrote the letter. Then there's also a letter from Jack, who is William's brother. Jack Carter seems to live in California, judging by the postcard that is included with the letter. This is what he writes to William: "William, you've finally come to America! How exciting! Has your show taken New York by storm yet? I fear we may have just missed each other - the city was too much for me, so I've gone west. It really is amazing out here - maybe you could visit sometime? Have you corresponded with mother lately? The post is dreadfully inconsistent out here. I can't believe she hasn't met the the twins yet! Warmest regards, - Jack" Apparently William has a brother named Jack, more info about him is not known. Jack has gone west since the city was too much for him, and is suggesting William should pay a visit. Jack mentions their mother and how she hasn't met the twins yet. The twins he speaks about are likely to be Wendy and Abigail, the time period further confirms that theory. William is gonna decide to go west to visit Jack, by train.... Dark Enlightenment William then took the train to San Fransisco on the 15th of August 1904, at which point he has been 3 years or so in America ever since the ship departed from Britain at the 26th of July 1901. However the train is never going to make it...Some paperwork is all there is left in the sand. One of which is a poster for the Abernethy & Parker CIRCUS, which will come to various towns. There is also a strongman performing in the circus, he can be seen balancing with one hand on an elephant that in turn is balancing on a ball. There are also flamingos on the elephant's back and some monkeys wearing a fez can be seen aswell. The strongman should be none other than Wolfgang. The person on the poster bears a resemblance to Wolfgang, only he doesn't have his moustache and looks more like the wimpier stages of him. The clothing is similar though. Regardless there can be no confirmation nor denial the person on balancing on the elephant is him. Wolfgang however IS the main attraction of the circus. When looking at the train ticket, it is clear that William traveled in the passenger train and not the circus train. He has no affiliation with the circus either. There's also a page that has been torn out of a book. It shows the sanity obelisk with strange symbols and writing next to it, which will have to be decoded first. It is worth noting that, despite not being the same symbols, the wooden thing has very similar symbols on it, which could indicate the sanity obelisk and wooden thing are made with the same knowledge... William is discovering things he probably shouldn't have discovered. To the right of the poster is a letter from William to Jack Carter, who seems to live in Corona, California. This is what he wrote to his brother: "Jack, the strangest thing has happened! Please discount all reports of my demise, should they reach you. I am very much alive, despite my recent mis- adventures. I have discovered something, a book of sorts. I have yet to decode it fully, but what little I have de- ciphered has opened my mind to terrifying new possibilities. I shan't say more through post - I fear it may attract unwanted att- ention. All will be explained when we meet. I shall continue west forthwith! - William" William has discovered a book which contains knowledge of something mysterious, yet terrifying. It must be big since he doesn't even want to talk about it through post, fearing it may attract unwanted attention. William is going to continue west, even though the train he was has crashed and he is presumed dead, as written in the newspaper called the Daily Speaker on the left. The article itself: "A passenger train struck a circus wagon that had broken down along the tracks at the Old Will crossing. Dozens of passengers were injured, and at least one man is missing. The missing man has yet to be identified, but fellow passengers described him as a tall, nervous fellow with an English accent. A search party was convened but quickly abandoned when it became apparent that a cage full of potentially dangerous trained monkeys had been vacated in the collision. Given the remoteness of the crash site, the scorching desert sun, and the escaped animals, the missing man has been presumed dead. This is the third time such incident at the crossing since the railway's construction in 1873, but the first to involve a circus wagon. Local businessman and railway investor Harold J. Rutherford assured this publication that all pertinent safety precautions had been taken, but no one could have foreseen the appearance of such a dangerous blockage on the tracks ---" The papers are being watched by an unknown shadow and a familar looking shadow to those who suffer from insanity. It is indeed the shadow watcher, and if you look at the source code of the page you can see it's silhouette...The faith of William and his means of going to his brother Jack are unknown at this time. He seems rather positive in his letter despite what has happened to him thus far... Ladies and gentlemen! William seems to have changed in appearance ever since him disappearing from the train crash. He now looks like the dapper man we all love or hate, Maxwell. He even has changed his stage performing name to "Maxwell the Great" as seen on his new poster. William( his real name as Maxwell is his mere stage performing name for the time being) looks nowhere close to what he looked like when he first started performing as a magician. His insecure look on his face has been replaced with a wide grin, and along with the magical explosion behind him this new poster looks truely spectacular. Who wouldn't want to visit a magic show like that! However William's new poster isn't the only thing worth noting. To the left of the poster is a page which looks like it came out of a journal of some sorth. Some sort of ritual is described by William. The attention is immediatly drawn to the sketch on it, of a being the more insane will recognize immediatly. It is the Terror Beak. Apparently William has seen it, and he doesn't seem anywhere insane. The shadow creatures are no hallucinations, but they are creatures from another dimension. They are drawn to the insane, and to William Carter's ritual apparently. This is what is written on the page: "A terrible form took shape in the air above the ritual last night. It was large and indistince, but it's countenance was infused with a sort of alien malevolence that chilled me to my very core. My fear was so great that I almost faltered in my incantations. It made no hostile motions, however and after having hung in the aether for a time, it shivered out of existence. What was it? Was it observing me? Is it the guardian of some deeper secret to which I am drawing closer? In any event, I am not keen to meet it's like again." What the ritual was and what incantations William used in said ritual are a mystery, and aren't described anywhere. It could be anything, but whatever it was it caught the attention of Them. To the right of the poster is a page torn out of a book. Judging by the colour of the page and the strange symbols, it is the same book William has discovered around the time of the train crash. On the page there's the Livegiving Amulet and the Telelocator Staff. If William already knows how to make these or merely is aware that they can be made, is not yet known. He may still be busy with decoding the book... Then again he is performing a ritual of some sorth... The last document to the right of the poster is an advertisement. William Carter is looking for a female assistant to perform in his stage show. The magic show seems to be a success, as William performs as Maxwell the Great twice a day, seven days a week! Such a contrast with his first magic act. The female assistant will start performing in William's stage show on the 6th of June, 1905. This is almost 10 months later after William has survived the train crash. This is what the advertisement says: "Looking to hire a lady assistant for a magician's stage show. Previous experience unnecessary, but should have a curious demeanor and a keen interest in the mysteries of the universe. Must provide own costume." William Carter resides in the Palace Hotel in San Francisco, California. As it stands right now, it is unknown if William has contacted or spend time with his brother Jack Carter. It may surprise some, but William's assistant for his act will be none other than... Charlie The success of William knows no boundaries so it seems, he keeps on going with his magic show. He has even found an assistant to aid him with the act. Charlie is her name. She even appears alongside The Amazing Maxwell who "performs feats to astound and mystify", as seen on the latest magic act poster. Charlie can be seen holding open a book from where a shadow creature flies away from. Those of you aware with insanity may recognize it from the sanity obelisks. Maxwell holds his hands around the shadowy entity as if he conjured it himself, and has a big grin on his face. He still continues to look so damn confident on his posters! Alongside the poster is a letter from Charlie written to "Maxy": "Hey Maxy, We really knocked 'em deadLast night, didn't we? Ithough that old guy in thefront wasn't going to makeit. Those shadow things are soconvincing - they almost scareme, and I'm part of the act! We can work on the new finalewhen I get back from my sister'splace. I'm looking forward to it! ~ Charlie ♥" Her letter has some interesting information in it. For one, Charlie has a sister, which may or may not be Wickerbottom or perhaps Willow. The mentioning of the shadowy things further accompanies the fact William has decoded the book he found, and is ready to use it at it's full potential. It is still unknown where and how he found the book.Then there's this talk about a new finale for the magic act. Whatever it's gonna be, it is certain it will be one to never forget, both for Maxwell and Charlie.... The Final Act There is a dark room with a dim light. This looks like Maxwell's room. His dapper suit hangs on a hanger, and there is a stool and table present aswell. But.. If you look closely at the wall, table and ground.. All the previous documents are all present, from the numerous letters to the circus poster. It seems that all the previous documents were all together in one place. But there might be more information hidden for the naked eye. Dare you enlighten yourself to see the hidden messages? Praecantator A woman wearing dark red clothes can be seen knocking on a door. It should by now be known who she is. Charlie looks a bit on the edge, but does seem to know where she is heading for.. And then whilst being quiet, Charlie enters the room . The room is rather dark, as the only light that is present comes from the hallway at this point. Not much from the room can be seen, aside from a carpet and a clock. At this point it is stil unknown what Charlie is looking for and where she is. It is time to illuminate the room. Charlie puts a light on and now the room has lighted up. It seems that this is a room owned by Maxwell (and potentially Charlie aswell), as some pictures with both of them can be seen on the wall. The big portrait has both Maxwell and Charlie posing together, happily. The left one has a cheerful Charlie on it, whilst the right one has Maxwell taking a bow. There's a mirror on the left wall, and a chandelier hangs in the middle of the room. There's some strange black goo-like stuff on it's chain. There's also a fireplace with two candles in the left of the room. And that curious little animal skull looks a lot like a jackalope doesn't it? Charlie has a perplexed look on her face as she looks into the mirror. Seems she's looking for something in particular which she cannot find in her viccinity. Charlie is full of curiosity, and with that curiosity she has found a hidden room by pulling one of the candles on the fireplace down. That certain room is the same as the one that had those weird carvings on the wall and celing, along with Charlie's name. However it seems that the Maxwell in the painting is rather sad by that. The Maxwell in the painting seems to be trapped, and can only watch as shadow hands appear out of the ceiling whilst Charlie is reading a book in the secret room. They seem to be going for Charlie... Maxwell uses the power within him to lighten up the main room and banish the shadow hands. Whilst this is going on, Charlie seems to be completely unaware of this. She is now examining Maxwell's suit. At this point it seems she regrets that she entered the secret room, as she picked up the lantern and illuminates the walls and celing, seeing what Maxwell has written on them. Meanwhile outside of the secret room, Maxwell seems to be collapsing after he used his powers to enlighten himself and the room to banish Them. Charlie seems to be in panic, as she runs out of the room whilst losing her hat. She carries Maxwell's book aswell as his suit with her. Maxwell seems to have collapsed, since he cannot be seen in the painting anymore... Maxwell has appeared in the room, seems he is full of remorse. He must blame himself for all the bad things that have happened to him and Charlie ever since he has gotten the dark enlightment from the mysterious book. And by the look on his face it seems he is sad about what happened to Charlie. It is unknown to him if she escaped the shadow hands or not, as the moment he banished those he collapsed. It is unknown at this point where Charlie went, maybe we will know that soon..... ___... Maxwell is in his secret room, and seems to be very angry. Most likely blaming the disappearance of Charlie. He ripped off his face from the poster, and scratched through his face on the painting. But worst of all is, the entrance to the secret room is locked right now. Maxwell has no normal means of escaping his secret room. And to make matters worse, Charlie is sliding a letter underneath his door. This is what is written in Charlie's letter This is the most recent Praecantator timelapse. And here you can find links to all the puzzle threads! The Underground puzzle It's Not a Rock! puzzle Strange New Powers puzzle Hungry for Your Hunger puzzle The Stuff of Nightmares A Moderately Friendly puzzle Six Feet Under puzzle All's Well That Maxwell puzzle Credit where credit is due: @vingw for the "transcript" of Charlie's letter @Miss for the readable letter from Charlie @simplex for the puzzle timelapse(s)
A house left abandoned in the middle of a forest, its only inhabitant missing for fourteen years, and mutters of a curse... Of course someone would come looking eventually... ((Once again, Truthseeker saved my post and helped me fix the font size! Thank you!)) This story was beta'd by Truthseeker from the Don't Starve forum. Shanter's myth – a Don't Starve fanfiction The first time he saw the small open field, he had to admit the local name for it was fitting. In the middle of a vast pine-forest without any other vegetation, a sudden open field, sporting irregular patches of flowers and the ghost of a house standing right in the middle. The cursed plains. The young man stood in awe at the very edge of the open field, staring at the huge house that seemed to occupy the entire field. It had all the attributes of a haunted house, and though the local villagers had talked excessively about its unsettling look, it still baffled him how eerie the entire place looked. It felt almost as if the entire scene was working together to make the place as uneasy as possible. He jotted down a quick note, adding little sketches of the more eerie details to his work. The more he could work into his article the better! He hoisted his bag up higher and trudged through the overgrown grass towards the house. The front door groaned like an old man when he pushed it open, and his footsteps left marks in the dust as he stepped inside. The air was still and heaps of untouched furniture stood looming at the corners of the house. The intruder shuddered and a shaky grin spread on his face at the very same time. The atmosphere was so thick he could almost feel it running down his back, and the superstitious stories of the locals only added to the eeriness of the house. Almost giddy in excitement, the youngster snuck further into the house. Everything was dark and dusty, and the house smelled faintly of sweetness and rot. It's a ***** smell, and Stanley shivered as he remembered the newspaper clipping in his bag. A man disappeared in this very house, his body was never found... The scent became sickly at that thought, and he took a deep breath through his mouth. A part of him whispered it could be a broken jar of jam, but the more morbid thought stuck with him. He walked through the hall, and studied the old doors hiding their secrets from him. Which one should he start with? As he touched the doorknob, he could swear he heard a soft thump far under the floorboards. He paused and waited, but the only sound he heard was his own breath. He smiled shakily at his own over-excited fantasy, and opened the door to the living room. A wall of black was what greeted him. Faint, murky light fought to penetrate the papers hung over the windows, and dozens of chairs seemed to stare at him from the darkness. A cold hearth sat huddled to the wall, and an old grandfather clock stood in the left corner. The hostility of the scene wiped the smile off Stanley's face, and he stood hesitantly in the doorway. In the back of his head, he knew he should be jotting down notes for his article, but he didn't move. He couldn't shake the feeling that he walked in on something. He shivered, and walked carefully into the room, the floorboards refusing to make any noise beneath his feet. The papers covering the windows were old and featured abstract drawings and sketches. Stanley pulled a few from their place; a rain of dust and grime came down from the windows. The glass was a murky brown, and Stanley could barely see through it. He couldn't distinguish anything outside, not even the pine trees of the forest. A strange sound made him stop dead in his tracks: A rumble, a gurgle almost.... trembling throughout the entire house. He quickly stepped away from the window, a rain of fine dust slowly drifting down from the ceiling. The house fell silent, and Stanley waited…listening for the sound. It didn't come again, and Stanley hesitantly continued his search. The brown light pouring in from the window drove the darkness in the room away, and showed a faint track in the grime—an irregular path of something being dragged over the floor. The idea of a corpse being stowed away in the house suddenly became a lot more realistic. Sure, he'd fantasized about that, but now he wasn't so sure he wanted to find anything anymore. Still, he followed the path with his eyes, until they landed on the old grandfather clock. Could it be? … The local stories of the cursed plains ran through his head, and the newspaper clipping in his bag seemed to weigh him down. A strange man by the name of Wilson Higgsbury, disappeared off the face of the earth after a strange storm passed over the woods. There were also other stories of a great evil hidden under this very plain, and dozens of disappearances in the last few decades.... Stanley swallowed, and walked to the clock. It would have been a great scoop to discover a corpse there. It could get him two—maybe even three consecutive articles—in a well-respected newspaper. He would have been a fool to stop there. The old clock had long since stopped, and an iron lock held the door to the inner parts closed. Stanley rummaged through his backpack, and fished out his lock pick. He'd expected to find a closed door of some sort—a faulty pantry door, or a forgotten little chest. He had expected to find some old stuff he could use to tie a story together, but now he didn't know what to expect anymore: a corpse ? Multiple corpses? A curse? With a soft little click, the clock's door opened, and Stanley swung it open. A wave of sickly sweetness hit him in the face, and a steep black hallway tunneled into the earth before him. Spiderwebs lined the walls, giving the illusion of macabre wallpaper. Stanley stood flabbergasted, and he swallowed back a big lump of anxiety. It could be anything, he told himself, it wouldn't have to be a grave or something equally horrible... He fumbled with his bag, pulling out his lantern and notebook. His pencil slipped from between his fingers, and rolled down into the depths. He muttered a curse, and quickly lit his lantern. The pencil was long gone and the yawning depth was still waiting for him with all the patience of the world. Could it have been more than just one murder? Could it have been something completely different altogether? He moved down the black cave, the sickly light from above disappeared behind him. The flooring shifted and crumbled under his feet, and his lantern could barely penetrate the darkness of the cave. It was deeper than he expected, and his shoes were covered with spiderwebs when the narrow cave ended in an open space. The spiderweb-covered walls abruptly cut off, and his sight was limited to the small circle of light his lantern could provide. He was at the end of the stairs, and the hallway had ended in complete darkness. He held his lantern up higher, and stepped forth. A light flashed on with a hiss, and Stanley nearly tripped over his own legs in surprise. A huge pillar of black marble stood in the middle of a large room, with a coiling, translucent black flame resting on top of it. Its light made shadows tremble behind the items in the room. Large pots stood lined up against the wall, thick stone lids keeping their contents hidden. A single, enormous table stood all the way at the back of the room, carrying a large stack of rotten yet bug-free food. There were no windows, but the walls were plastered full with notes. The scent of sweet rot and flesh was unmistakable, and Stanley breathed heavily through his mouth. He bit his lip, but the scene refused to change. It was real. He held onto his lantern like a shield, and slowly approached the marble pillar. The surface was lukewarm, and every-so-slightly wet. He stepped back, and stared at the black flame burning on without fuel. “What the hell is this place....” His voice sounded wrong in the cave-like room–like something was eating his words right as they left his mouth. He minimized the light of his lantern, and walked further into the room, not knowing where to keep his gaze. Long-rotten food squelched beneath his feet, and he was almost relieved to see rotten food, instead of a corpse. He passed underneath a bunch of drying meat, and a few bits of jerky stuck in his hair. A dark doorway was hidden in the corner near the table. He could feel cold air collecting around his feet, and a faint smell of meat stew drifted by. Stanley looked back, the staircase now invisible just outside the reach of the pillar. He turned the light on his lantern up and stepped through the doorway. The black pillar behind him extinguished with a whispering hiss, and in front of him, a second pillar awoke, bathing yet another room in a foul light. Stanley stood in the middle of a garden. The ground was covered with leaves, roots and vines, and large fruits lied fat and juicy in the middle of the green cushioning. Small sprouts showed their flowers shyly in the dark, petals spread to catch absent sunlight. There were no bugs to be seen, but Stanley could hear a distant buzzing, hidden behind the wall of leaves and plants. He stepped over the plants, and fought his way through the small underground garden. A golden rod shimmered from in between the plants. A big gap in between the plants showed the next doorway, and Stanley hesitated at the edge of the absurd garden. He felt as if he found a big clump of blood-covered gold, a treasure with a terrible curse. An article about this house, this place, the folklore and the pillars.... it could uncover something big! But he didn't want to stay in the underground house. Something was wrong, whether it was his own mind or the rumored curse... With a trembling hand, he turned his lantern to the brightest setting. All he needed was a bit of reliable proof, and then he could get out of here. He would write the article and come back with an entire crew to investigate. Or better yet, he would be at home, replying to his job-offers. He stepped through the doorway, and with a long string of clicks, an entire hallway was lit up before him. He couldn't see a ceiling, but in the darkness above, little metallic glints shone back at him. Six doors decorated the hall, the floor a neat array of wooden planks. Stanley slowly walked into the hall, his footsteps making hollow sounds on the wood. He tried the door closest to him—if only to have a shorter route to the way out—but it was locked from the inside. After a short hesitation he pressed an ear against the door, half expecting to hear something moving..... The other side stayed silent. The awful sweet scent wafted from behind the door, and Stanley gagged. He could so easily imagine Wilson Higgsbury's corpse lying there, rotting away... locked in for his own protection. He stepped away from the door, and took a few deep breaths through his mouth. All the other doors were closed, but in the far back he could see an open doorway. He took a few more deep breaths, and promised himself that he would go back out as soon as he had found some evidence. The door to the room was made of thick black wood, the wood grain eerily resembling screaming faces. The room behind the door was pitch-black, and for once, there was no black fire lighting up. Stanley held up his lantern, and looked around. The room was the closest thing to an actual living room, and in all its normality, it felt terribly misplaced. It smelled of burnt pine and leather, and his steps were muffled by a dark purple rug. A thick leather chair stood facing an empty fireplace and a stack of wood was neatly tucked away in a simple gold container. High up on the walls he could see the faint outlines of hunting trophies, and the walls were invisible behind thick bookshelves. A small book, lying lonely on the small side-table caught his eye, and he set down his lantern right next to it. A name, written in a messy scrawl, stood on the cover. Wilson P. Higgsbury. The man who disappeared! Stanley stared at the name for a moment, and quickly looked back at the hallway. The torches had all gone out, and nothing stirred in the dark. He opened the book. The first page looked like the first draft of an academy book. Random facts, equations and results were splattered all across the paper; all dated about 16 years back. He flipped through the book, eyes passing over many more of the same notes. More scribbles, crossed out ideas, illustrations and.... A sudden change in the tone of the notebook caught his attention. All the notes from before were made in rapid succession, but this one was written after a gap of nearly four years! Unlike the other notes, it was not a documentation of tests, nor a random idea. The handwriting was sharper, neater, and the choice of words differed so greatly that Stanley could barely believe it was written by the same man. Something has changed, and I can't find out what it was. Maybe it started when I died; maybe it started when I came back.... I will attempt to re-create the environment that allowed the effigy to work. Stanley rummaged through his backpack and fished out the old newspaper cutting–the one that brought him here. Wilson P. Higgsbury was the first of about eight people to disappear around the cursed plains... And the journal entry dated precisely four years after Higgsbury's disappearance. The next entry was dated two days after the last one, the handwriting again different from before. The strange dreams have been increasing in frequency, and my skin has also been feeling strange. My only guess is that it was caused by my long-term presence in that world...Or maybe coming back to this world is what set it all in motion? The effigy experiments have been ineffective thus far, and I cannot risk using myself as a test subject. I will make the necessary arrangements for the machine. This time however, I’ll make sure it goes two ways. Stanley frowned, and shot a nervous look back at the hallway. This didn't sound like any sane man... Whoever wrote these entries was insane, cursed, or possessed. Deep underground, sitting in the light of his lantern, all three options sounded equally valid. He flipped the page, and landed at the very last entry. Three years ago. The rest of the book was indecipherable, filled to the brim with scribbles. He flipped to the last readable entry, the neat handwriting sporting a near invisible tremble. There was never a throne. There never were rules, as Maxwell claimed. The fool didn't know what he was dealing with – nor did I when I met him. I was a fool then too. It is complete. All has come together in the end. The veil has been punctured, and now comes only the job of widening it, ripping until the two worlds merge as one..... I still have to follow rules, but when the worlds merge, I get to choose which ones – and when. The rest of the page continued in unreadable scrawl, and Stanley slowly closed the notebook. The glass eyes of the hunting trophies glinted in the light of his lantern, and he stuffed the book in his backpack. A madman was living–or had been living–in this place: A dangerous, intelligent, deranged madman! He grabbed his lantern and turned to the exit. His foot caught on a small orange foot-bench in his hurry to leave and the light of his lantern flashed over the walls. An enormous spider head with a glinting maw hung mounted above the door, and a wolf head as large as a man snarled from far above the fireplace. And on the highest wall of all hung a deer's head, its single eye nearly the size of Stanley's head and its antlers spreading through the whole room. The fur on its thick neck was the same color as leather on the big chair in the middle of the room. Hundreds of razor sharp teeth were bared at him in the scarce light of his lantern, all creatures forever frozen in time, jaws still spread open to catch prey. He was over with discovery and adventure! This was the very last straw! He rushed out of the room and dashed down the hallway as fast as he could. It only occurred to him that the torches were already on before he ran into the hall, when he saw the figure standing right in his path. He knew the man's face from the picture posted in the newspaper. Even after fourteen years of disappearance, the man didn't look a day older. Long black gloves, crisp attire, black hair, pale skin. He was an exact copy of the photograph taken more than fourteen years ago, and yet there was something completely wrong about his appearance. The man narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. At just that one step closer Stanley could see why the figure seemed so off. The black forms on the man's head were solid and faintly ribbed, and his unnaturally bleak skin looked almost scaled. Deep auburn eyes almost seemed red in the light of the torches, and Stanley's legs started to tremble. The diary felt heavy in his backpack, and the last few entries in it replayed endlessly in his head. He turned to the only door close to him, and yanked it open. He ran inside without looking, throwing the door closed behind him. Metallic parts skittered over the floor as he barged through the room like a bull towards the only other door. The light-pillars extinguished, and a clawed hand grabbed the back of his shirt. His lantern was ripped from his hands, and he was relentlessly pulled back through the dark. Air whipped past him, and a hand closed around his throat. He felt his backpack ripped off his back, and then was shoved into a metallic cabin. The hand around his throat let go, and Stanley struggled to catch his breath right as the machine came to life around him. The floor fell away beneath him, and he tumbled downward into nothingness. He woke with a start, hands flying to his throat in panic. A bleak sun shone down on him, and large pine trees waved slowly in the wind. The house was nowhere to be seen, nor was the tell-tale smoke of the village. Shakily, Stanley got to his feet, and he turned in a circle. It looked like the cursed plains, it felt like the cursed plains...but it was not. A rabbit hopped around just at the edge of the forest. The small horns protruding from the back of its head were unmistakable, and Stanley stared disbelievingly at the unreal creature. A single sentence from the journal bubbled up in his head as he watched the rabbit hop to its shelter. “The veil has been punctured, and now comes only the job of widening it, ripping until the two worlds merge as one.” Right next to him in the grass lay his lantern, with a small folded paper inside. It read, in sharp and neat handwriting; Don't Starve
This thread is about theories and speculation about William's story. Keep all discussions here so that the puzzle threads are about actually solving the puzzles. Here's an excellent recap about the puzzles : http://forums.kleientertainment.com/index.php?/topic/24433-william-carters-story-so-farpuzzle-findings-and-lore-compilation/ Remember to keep it on topic. A couple off-topic posts are ok just don't make dozens of pages of unrelated crap.