"I met someone new today."
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"Oh, really now? Who was it?"
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"Just some guy."
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"Well, it couldn't have been 'just some guy', everyone has a name, Wil."
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"Just some guy named Schlatt.."
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Wilbur Soot doesn't remember much. A curse of the dead, you may call it. He fails to recall important parts or important people who were in the Greatest War, as they called it. He could only remember his friends, the people that stood beside him, and his allies.
It's like his brain only wanted to remember the good things. The things Wilbur lost. It was a cruel fate, but a just one.
It had started one musty, fall day in the town square. They were holding a meeting, to see where the state of L'manberg would go, avoiding words like 'government' or 'president'. They really didn't need Technoblade going feral again.
Wilbur was sitting next to Tommy, one of the only people he remembered, when he smelt it. The faint smell of cigarette smoke, then the scent of burnt toast. The strong smell of alcohol came in third, causing Wilbur's face to scrunch up in disgust. He looked around, noticing a light fog dusting the ground, moving, as if someone was walking through it.
He stood up, the bench he was sitting on making a loud screeching sound on the stone roads. Heads turned towards the lanky spirit as his eyes traced the ground, following the moving fog. The movement went past him, the smells getting incredibly strong, Wilbur coughing, swatting the air in front of his face in order to move the scents away.
Tommy looked at Wilbur, noticing his distress. He stood up, standing next to the apparition, following his eye sight. Tommy's eyes widened, drawing his crossbow, following the moving fog. This led to the rest of the group to draw their weapons, following Tommy and Wilbur's lead.
Alex, better known as Quackity, had been giving a speech when the fog moved over to him. Tommy looked to Wilbur, who looked incredibly confused.
"Well, Big W? Can you see anyone there?"
Tommy gestured to the fog, Alex quieting down, seemingly just noticing the distressed group. His smile melted off his face, replaced with worry.
"G-guys? What's going on?"
Alex's face contorted into even more distress as the fog moved around his feet. All was silent as Alex's eyes moved from each individual person, before he let out a screech. He jumped over the podium, running over to Tubbo and Fundy, worry in his eyes.
"Something scratched me, dude! Right on the back!"
He looked around, lifting up his blue sweatshirt, revealing a circle scratched into his back, blood just starting to leak out of the wound. Carefully, Fundy had examined it, touching the wound, getting a scream out of Alex. While those two tried to calm Alex down, the rest of the groups eyes were focused on the podium.
The wind started to pick up, dark clouds beginning to cover the sky as Tommy was nearly knocked off his feet by the wind.
"Answer my question, Wil. Do you see anyone there?!"
Tommy screeched, watching Techno dock a firework into his crossbow, aiming it at the podium. Wilbur squinted, shaking his head.
"I can't see anyone, Tommy! I don't think it's a ghost like me!"
He yelled over the wind, turning his attention towards the blonde haired boy, who's look of distress became one of horror.
"Fire, Techno! Light it up!"
Scrambling away, the group dispersed as Techno fired. A burst of black, orange, and red light lit up the gloomy fields of the square, the vague outline of a person appearing in the light, before everything went dark again.
Cue the rain.
"Who was that?!"
"I don't know!"
"Guys, calm down, we'll figure this out!"
"What the fuck is happening?!"
"Everyone listen!"
Tommy stepped up onto the bench, everyone's heads turning towards the blonde boy.
"We have Wilbur here! I'm sure he can figure this out-"
Suddenly, the young boy was pushed off the bench, a handprint seared into the front of his shirt. He landed on his back, looking around, his face written in confusion.
Cue the bickering, arguing, and yelling.
Eventually, Wilbur spoke up.
"I.. could figure out what's messing with us."
He messed the he cuffs of his desaturated yellow sweater, the hole in the middle of it almost invisible in the stormy weather. He looked around the distressed faces of the L'manberg citizens, the wind blowing around his fluffy brown hair.
"I mean... I'm the only one here who can go to the underworld. I can easily find out who's here."
There were a murmur of agreements before Alex spoke up.
"Maybe, we could wait? Just wait and see if it bothers us again?"
Again, murmurs of agreement. Wilbur shrugged.
"I'm fine with either. All I really want is to just get to the bottom of this. We need to set up a plan in case we run into whatever this is in our homes. Here are the signs I noticed:
-Smoky smell, almost like burnt toast
-The incredibly strong scent of alcohol
-White fog
-And whatever scratch Alex got. Understand? If any of you see these things, get me immediately."
The citizens nodded, murmuring to each other over who or what it could be. It would be a very long couple of months from that point on.
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Wilbur Soot was in charge of finding whatever was currently plaguing L'maneberg's broken shambles of a city. Many reports had come in, mostly from Alex and Fundy, that the spirit, or demon or wraith or whatever the hell it was, had been haunting them, physically attacking them, or only breaking things they owned.
It got to the point were Fundy and Alex moved next to Wilbur's home, just so they have a quicker way to get to him. It was absolute chaos, and whatever was haunting everyone was at the center of it. Claims came in ever say about what it could be, none of them sounding right.
Eventually, Clay, or Dream, had finally settled on finding out WHO this was, as it clearly wasn't random hauntings, and because if they found out who it was, Wilbur would be able to confront them more directly. And so, the hunt for the spirit/demon's identity began.
They started out with small context clues first, like how Fundy and Alex had been it's main targets, and how a small circle, the size of a coin, had been scratched into their backs. The occasional handprint had been burned into their clothes, the smell of alcohol so strong that the two had to often step out of their homes to smell fresh air.
Wilbur couldn't make sense of these things, not knowing anyone who had done these things or where vaguely related to those things. It was puzzling, confused him. People seemed to have a good idea of who this could be and it made the mood in L'manberg drop dramatically.
Then, one stormy night, the spirit had made its final move, confirming everyone's fear about who they were. It targeted Tubbo.