The Reign of the Nightmare King (A Don't Starve fanfic)[CURRENTLY ON HOLD]

Chapter Eight~ Uncle and Niece... Bonding

Percival spins on his heel, startled by the sudden explosion sound. The survivors are charging straight at him, wielding weapons and clad in armor. If he were an honest person, he might admit that he is frightened. This wasn't supposed to happen. His friends- No! Not friends, enemies!- were not supposed to rebel. Then again, what did he expect them to do? He would have fought. So, instead of showing his fear, Percival puts on a wicked grin and laughs.

Wickerbottom drags Wes' limp and battered body to the edge of the forest, where Wendy digs a telltale heart out of a chest. Within moments, Wes is back onto his feet, yet he is somewhat shaken. He wobbles over to Wendy and Webber, and plops onto the ground. He will help with medical supplies once he feels up to it.

Meanwhile, Wigfrid is the first to reach Percival. She jumps and pounces above his head, ready to drive her battle spear through Percival as she falls. It is a nearly foolproof move. Nearly.

"För Valhalla!!" She screams. Her spear is just inches from Percival's skull.

"Not so fast," Percival says, waving his hand nonchalantly. A thin, shadow-like dome forms around him. The moment Wigfrid's spear punctures it, it explodes into a thick gray fog, knocking Wigfrid several yards away, like a swatted fly. She hits the ground hard, and doesn't get up for several moments. Wickerbottom wipes the grayish dust from her glasses as she scuttles to Wigfrid's side.

"I told you not to kill him until we give the signal, dear!" She scolds.

"I'm sörry, I was just... excited. I... I am a warrior! Wigfrid mutters.

"Yes, but good warriors have carefully thought through plans."

"I am a gööd warrior!"

"Then act like one!" Wickerbottom snaps as she trudges away, through the thick, dark, cloud.

Percival intertwines his bony fingers and presses them outward, causing each and every one to pop in unison.

"If you want to kill me," He says loudly, clearly, so he knows everyone can hear him, "You'll have to try better that that!" He cackles, but abruptly stops when he realizes that something- no, someone- is behind him. He freezes, afraid to turn around. The figure is tall- at least a head taller than him. Could Percival beat them in a fight, whoever they are? He must think quickly. But before he can, a he hears a voice- low, but just loud enough for him to hear.

"Say pal, a good magician knows he doesn't use his best trick first."

Silence.

Percival decides to act fast, so he snaps his fingers, and inky blackness swirls from the ground, covering every inch of him. But when the shadows fade away, he still stands in the same place.

"Wha- how, what..." He mumbles, snapping his fingers again and again, but nothing happens.

Maxwell emerges from the fog beside Percival, staring down on him like a hawk taunting its prey. He flicks his wrist, and four large shadow hands emerge from the fog, grabbing Percival's wrists and ankles, pulling him to the ground. Then, Maxwell snaps his fingers, and inky swirls emerge from the ground, spiraling upwards to cover every inch of himself. Just before they shroud his face, he smirks.

"What a mess you've gotten yourself into, pal."

The shadows dissolve into the nighttime air, and Maxwell is gone. Percival struggles at his constraints, frustrated and angry. He screams into the night, mustering all of the strength he can get, and breaks free of the shadow hands. He stands, carefully. He is not going to let Maxwell play with him.