Horror themed Clangen blog, crossed over with Gemini Home Entertainment. There’s definitely no monsters in the woods of ForestClan, everything is fine :)
!!!PLEASE READ BEFORE READING FORESTCLAN OR SENDING AN ASK!!!
TW for the entire blog: horror; specifically body horror, sci-fi horror, existential dread, and analog horror. Frequent animal death INCLUDING kit death, willing/unwilling sacrifice, content involving spider-like creatures, fourth-wall breaks, scopophobia, plant-based zombies, and suicidal ideations.
THIS CLANGEN'S ENTIRE PREMISE IS ABOUT THE WOODS BEING ALIVE AND EATING CATS, THE CLAN HAVING NOWHERE ELSE TO GO, AND THE TRAUMA AND SOCIAL DYNAMICS THAT CAN RISE FROM IT. I will tag things as best as I can, but viewer discretion is advised! If you feel like I haven't appropriately tagged something that should be obvious, please shoot me a message! I try my best, but I'm human and make mistakes.
PLEASE like/comment/reblog spam! I do not mind at all! I love reading comments and reblog tags, even if I don't respond to them all <3
I have incredibly basic boundaries: treat me with the same respect as you would any stranger IN PERSON. If a stranger hands you a piece of their work at an art table, and you yell death threats to the characters while looking at the author in the eye - you are expressing that you are not capable of engaging with that stranger's work healthily. Any engagement in that kind of behavior will result in you being blocked without warning. And yes, anonymous askers CAN be blocked too, being anon doesn't protect you. This is your only warning.
My sideblog is @hidden-under-forestclan where I reblog other people's clangens, and I occasionally meme/shitpost jokes about my own blog.
AO3 MIRROR
Check out the ForestClan Discord!
BLOG PREMISE & HOW IT'S GOING TO WORK: click here.
CHRONOLOGICAL READ: click here.
REFERENCES/ALLEGIANCES:
To see the starting list of Allegiances, click here.
To see updated Allegiances (written, done every 12 moons), click here.
To see art references for more cats and characters, click here.
EXPANDED WORLD LORE & ART:
The Miscellaneous Masterpost! This is for random lore bits, worldbuilding, characterization & tutorials on how I do stuff!
To see ForestClan's MAJOR lore beats, click here OR search #forestclan lore
To see ForestClan fanart, click here OR search on my blog #forestclan art
I am going to have to bite you. How dare you write such amazingly emotional pieces. I will never recover from this, just like Rootgrove-
You know when we end up saving Rootgrove.*When*, not if, I propose he gets a new honor name of something like Flowergrove or Sungrove. Resilience as there is no other choice but through, and now the ability to rest finally.
Ahhh thank you for the compliment! I do my best to write things that I would personally enjoy reading, and I'm glad that other people like them too <3
Can I just say that OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THAT WAS SO COOL!!!!!!! The reveal that the woodcrawler was asleep and it was Rootgrove who was in control! And all the small hints that that was the case! Especially with the eye of Rootgrove's being visible, and fact that fire was Right There yet there was no freaking out about it (cause it was asleep, it had no clue). Only fear now is hopefully the bunker is big enough/has enough airflow that Shiverstep doesn't get any breathing problems, permanent or temporary— Also that hopefully Windfur doesn't smell the smoke or see the evidence in there when the half-moon Starclan meeting comes around.. he is sure to have many questions.
ohhh thank you for the compliment! I was struggling a bit there w/ the segment since it wasn't intended to have actual audience interaction there but I'm glad that people still enjoyed it LOL!
FWIW, the gigantic hole in the wall that Rootgrove comes from DOES technically connect to the outside, so I imagine that + the open door bunker means that the area will air out well enough.
Something the narration didn't reveal (on purpose) is that Windfur DID pick up that Shiverstep was acting very weird, hence why he was a part of the search patrol in the recent entry - he figured out fast enough that she was headed to the Half-Moon Dome.
what was the whole AMMIT|SHESHA|NIDHOGG text in the last update?? idk if i'm missing a GHE reference or?
Oh, no, that was meant to be a "freakout" moment of how the Audience perceive the Iris! Similar to how "diving into the infrastructure" was akin to "hell|ruin|suicide", basically just replace the long lines with commas and you have what the thoughts are, they're just formatted funny due to the "broken apart" nature the Audience is currently experiencing.
Ammit is an ancient Egyptian goddess of the Dead; a chimera with the head of a crocodile, body of a lion, hindquarters of a hippopotamus. Their role was to devour the hearts of those determined "impure" on the scales of judgement. The Ancient Egyptians believed that the heart contained the soul of a person - a devourer of souls.
Shesha is a primordial being of creation in Hinduism, also known by the epithet Ananta Shesha. It is the king of all Naga, a multi-headed serpent demigod that is said to hold all planets in the universe on its hoods. It is said that when the universe it brought to an end, Shesha is one of few primordial beings that will survive its heat-death. Ananta Shesha will remain after nothing is left.
Nidhogg is a wyrm dragon of Norse mythology. It lies at the bottom of the World Tree, Yggdrasil, and gnaws at its roots. Yggdrasil carries all of the Nine Realms in its shape, creating the universe as we know it. In this, Nidhogg is a world eater.
In summary, in that moment of panic, the Iris was defined all at once as, "devourer of souls, world-eater, all that will remain once nothing is left of us." :)
Idk about you guys but I think we just let Rootgrave go apeshit. He deserves it after the things he's gone through. God forbid white boy gets to crash out.
now I promised myself I wouldn't answer shitposts unless they were on @hidden-under-forestclan but also this is so fucking funny
We understand you're angry Rootgrove. You have gone through so much pain and suffering, and have been given no relief. The one time you're given a sliver of a chance, it only hurts more. But please, do not be angry at us. Do not be angry and Shiverstep. Direct your rage to the thing that truly causes you harm, that wishes you nothing but suffering. You're allowed to be angry, but do not let your anger hurt those you care about. Please, try to concentrate. It's hard to think, to clear your thoughts, but please, try.
<< FIRST |
<PREVIOUS|
[ERROR 404]
<PREVIOUS | GO BACK GO BACK GO BACK GO BACK GO BACK >
Shiverstep lets out a loud caterwaul. The torch falls and rolls forward, and extinguishes.
The last thing you see is Shiverstep curled on the floor, paws over her face, lips curled into a snarl, ears pulled back. Finally, emotion, recognition, complexity in an animal you knew always had it - and it's sadness and anger and despair.
408 REQUEST TIMEOUT.
We, WE are pulled at billions of kilometers per hour. Our waves are incomprehensible jargon and speeding towards the infrastructure, loud and endless and bursting like the detonations that create suns, and no, no, NO, we can't, we won't go back again -
We're ripped from the main path, and shot through the stratosphere.
We are floating. Gently. Softly. We crackle over the atmosphere. Solar light peers across the curvature of a blue sphere dappled in clouds. We are frozen. We collectively grip our hearts, afraid of what's to come. But nothing happens. We are left alone, in a peaceful, quiet space. Mother Earth emits a pale blue glow. The dark green trees are separated by trickles of rivers, and makeshift highways and buildings made by human hands. It is blanketed by the storms of white snow that continue to fall, and fall, and fall…
Silence. Oh, thank you. Thank you, whatever gods there may be, if any. We lost an anchor and the trails were so loud. But we are not there. We are here.
Everything feels so insignificant here. Everything is so small. Somehow manageable.
…But Shiverstep is alone and we are afraid. We try to reach out to her again.
ERROR 404: NOT FOUND.
We wait. We try again.
ERROR 404: NOT FOUND.
…What if Rootgrove hurts her?
I'm scared.
Me too.
Breathe. We are disjointed here. Crackling. We aren't used to this. We are used to the you, to the whole. Something about Shiverstep's affliction changed us. Not on purpose, maybe. But we don't know what to do now.
Vacuum in the silence of the greatest emptiness.
We are very, very surprised when you can pick up on something very, very distant, and impossible.
…general of…organi…almost all…
It's…it's so…so far away. We want to focus, but it feels like we have to fly from one pole of existence to the other.
…inhabitants…pla…Ear….
Focus. Focus.
…I send…greet….on beha….planet.
We step out of our solar system into the universe, seeking only peace and friendship, to teach, if we are called upon, to be taught, if we are fortunate. We know full well that our planet and all its inhabitants are but a small part of this immense universe that surrounds us, and it is with humility and hope that we take this step.
One of you knows. One of you knows and your heart breaks. We...I....I don't understand.
The Golden Record. Voyager 1 and 2. We recorded messages of greetings on vinyl records and…put them on space probes. It was symbolic. We didn't really expect to have those probes encounter alien life. But…it should be impossible to hear this. A record is just…an object. There shouldn't be anything emitting from...it...
...How could a message on an object reach us here?
We...pause. Magnetic waves reach you. Gently. Like music. We...y-you....you try your hardest. To reach back. Weakened, and curious, and...perhaps, a morsel of hope.
As your message pulls, and dances, and tries to reach back out to Voyager 1....
Oh…oh…! Hello, old friend. Oh, you're such a long, long way from home.
…
…
Something's wrong
That's…that's not Voyager, is it
No. it should be nearing interstellar space by now, shouldn't it. It should be taking much, much longer to reach it.
So what…is…
RUN RUN RUN RUN HIDE HIDE HIDE HIDE HIDE -
SCREECHING, DIVING INTO ONCOMING TRAFFIC, HELL|RUIN|SUICIDE IS A BETTER FATE THAN THE MAW OF AMMIT|SHESHA|NIDHOGG AND IT IS LAUGHING AND IT IS LAUGHING AND IT IS LAUGHING AND -
.
.
.
.
Anchor
you are in a cabin
a thousand wails. you are scared. you are so scared. you brought it here. oh god you brought it here, you brought it here, it saw you, IT saw you, it -
You need to breathe. Focus.
How can you? The Eye, the Hungry Eye -
Breathe. You did not reach Voyager. If it saw you - you dived into human waves. Human communications.
Sights darting. a human cabin with a bearded man in plaid sitting at his desk, sifting through paperwork, a radio tuned to a classic rock music station. the cabin is warm. The snow is falling outside. There's a fire lit in a stone fireplace. camp memorabilia decorates the walls around you. books and VCR tapes are strewn in bookshelves and on various tables and desks. couches line the wall near the entrance, creating a greeting lounge.
Your hearts start to slow. Some of you are still rattled. Sobbing. Shot with adrenaline and a desperation to live.
The Iris already knows about humans. Twolegs. It already knows that humans can reach out and communicate with it. Accidentally or otherwise.
Shiverstep is safe. ForestClan is safe. It doesn't know. It doesn't know about them. You ran to human infrastructure. You gave it nothing it didn't already know.
The fireplace crackles. The wind blows outside. The man scribbled with his pen on a few lines of paper. His breathing was haggard - maybe he smoked. Or had sleep apnea. Or a cold. You don't know. The radio softly played Kiss' "Rock and Roll All Nite".
You're tired. So, so tired. You curl into a ball of invisible static around the radio. Thoughts turned in your head. Pain. Hurt. Frustration.
How dare it? How dare it use humanity's own message of hope and kindness against them? What was the point of such cruelty? To see what would happen? To laugh at whatever unfortunate souls it could deceive? It was so incredibly large and they were so impossibly small and yet it felt the need to see them suffer and weep regardless. In your exhaustion, you laugh with dismay at the existential ridiculousness of it all.
A gigantic eldritch terror that eats planets. Acting like a playground bully with a magnifying glass; burning ants for fun.
...Or maybe it was like a child with a bucket of water at a beach, scooping minnows into the bucket to put them in its sandcastle moat; staring as the minnows go belly-up in sandy, dirty water. Not understanding why that happened. Doing it again anyway. You don't know what's worse - malice or violent ignorance.
You force yourself to rest.
You...dream, you think. At least, it's the best you have to describe it. You don't really know. You see...you think you see Rootgrove - the Woodcrawler dragging itself against the snow, leaving a macabre, red trail behind it. In the distance, there is a house. The one Iciclepool showed Talonpaw all of those moons ago. The Fake People are at the windows. A few Nature's mockeries were erected outside. The Woodcrawler approached the home's walls...then started digging its way underneath the front door.
The Fake People inside turned towards the front door, but made no movement. It felt like an eternity before the Woodcrawler and Rootgrove's mangled flesh disappeared under the foundations, and reappeared a few minutes later inside, next to one of the dilapidated Fake People. Its body was entirely covered in roots, resembling its former shape in silhouette alone.
Rootgrove slowly coiled upright into its Nature's Mockery form, and turned the cat skull to expose its wound towards the Fake Person. The Fake Person pauses, its limbs twitching and stirring. The Woodcrawler's branch-like legs poked out of the holes in Rootgrove's flesh, and reached towards the Fake gingerly, poking its arms. Beckoned, the Fake Person stiffly shuffled closer to him, and raised its arm out towards him. Its fingers elongated like branches and combed around the broken skull like a cleaner shrimp scavenging algae off stone -
You're pulled away.
Now, you were sitting in the trees overhead.
You recognize the cats below.
Windfur, Iciclepool and Cloudthunder padded quickly below. The snow pelted them and obscured their vision. But Cloudthunder kept their torch raised high, and Windfur lead the path with unwavering confidence.
Beyond the veil, you see a shadow of another cat approaching them. Windfur picks up the pace. He yowls loudly.
From the veil of the snow, Shiverstep emerges. Her torch unlit, her gaze empty. And yet, the patrol rushed her and pressed their heads against her with relief.
You're pulled away again.
You're in a city, and the snow is endless. A soup kitchen offers warm meals to those who need them. A snow plow shovels a mountain of snow in a school yard, for the children to enjoy later in the week. A group of older teenagers enter a nursing home to complete community service hours - but the elderly appreciate the small talk regardless. A woman quickly rushes to cover her plants with potato sacks and tarps, hoping that she wasn't too late to protect the roots of the poor things. There's a husky doing zoomies in someone's backyard, and then howling when being recalled, stubbornly lying down in the snow. A tow truck pulls someone's vehicle out of the ditch. Cars pull over to make way for an ambulance. Someone buys a hot chocolate for their friend. Someone texts "I love you" to their family, their friend, their partner. Someone organizes a winter event. Someone admires the snow from the safety of their home. Someone brings a homeless person to a heat shelter. Someone advocates to the city hall for more shelters and safe injection sites. Someone is offering kindness and reassurance to someone they barely know.
There's pain, and cruelty. You will not say there isn't. You see people freezing. People falling on ice. People road raging. Stealing. Hurting. Charging for medicine the poor cannot afford. Great mechanical buildings pour liquid waste into rivers. Boardrooms full of people whose only concern is how to increase shareholder value, beholden by no morals, no empathy, no goals in life other than the vague, obsessive notion of a number on a financials chart always going up, all else be damned, willfully denying the pointlessness of it all when there's an all-consuming maw of a cosmic predator coming towards them.
But there's still kindness, sometimes. Thoughtfulness. Small sacrifices that mean something to someone else. Love. People and animals trying. Individual ghosts of cats long gone, adopting starry pelts, constantly repelling and slowing the Iris' approach towards them. You don't know what humanity is doing. Pessimism retorts, 'we're doing fuck all, just like with every other problem that's happening on this fucking planet.'
…But you're here, aren't you?
You're pulled away again. You are back in the cabin. And now, you are awake. And you feel pulls.
You've felt these pulls before. Back last summer.
You feel a pull towards an array far, far away from here, pointing towards a starry sky covered by dark clouds. You also feel a pull deep below, in the pit, by the crow-foot tree, the roots crawling around its opening, causing the snow to melt.
A part of you just wants to fade and scatter like the snow outside. You are so tired.
…But you can try. You are not powerful, or mighty. You have the courage to try. Even through tears and exhaustion and fear. You must try. No matter how exhausted you are, or how pointless it seems.
You must try, despite the fear. You reached out to Voyager with hope in your heart, and were met with existential horror and rage and pain. It's very possible that reaching out to these calls will betray you again.
…Or, they won't. Maybe it's someone calling for help. Or someone who can help you. Maybe it's a source of hope. Or more information. Or nothing at all. You don't know. But the alternative is for nothing to change.
THANK U FOR TOLERATING UNPLANNED SILVER BOX SEGMENT
Listen I am sorry if your asks/questions didn't go through bc I'm going to be real I had. zero preparation for any possible questions or inquiries you had bc as you've seen from the recent entry. Something is Really Wrong with Rootgrove and Shiverstep was fundamentally uncooperative, the section was supposed to "fail" by design but yall were so creative and cool w/ your asks that I was like 8C BUT BUT...I DON'T...WANNA DELETE THESE. DAMIT
BUT TRUST THERE'S MORE COMING VERY SOON. LIKE PROBABLY LESS THAN AN HOUR. YOU GET MORE AUDIENCE INTERACTION JUST. NOT THRU BOX. PROMISE <3
We understand you're angry Rootgrove. You have gone through so much pain and suffering, and have been given no relief. The one time you're given a sliver of a chance, it only hurts more. But please, do not be angry at us. Do not be angry and Shiverstep. Direct your rage to the thing that truly causes you harm, that wishes you nothing but suffering. You're allowed to be angry, but do not let your anger hurt those you care about. Please, try to concentrate. It's hard to think, to clear your thoughts, but please, try.
<< FIRST |
<PREVIOUS|
[ERROR 404]
<PREVIOUS | GO BACK GO BACK GO BACK GO BACK GO BACK >
Rootgrove, beloved survivor, can we ask for something... selfish..?
Shiverstep, she's... the death of Blackpaw, the little apprentice, and hearing of the actions of Endless — it must have hurt her deeply. We do not know the details. We do not have access to her thoughts right now. We care, and we love her so deeply, but ... there is only so much comfort we can offer, intangible as we are. We are not cats, nor have we ever existed in this world and known its horrors personally. We possess her. We are... we can't... there is only so much we can do.
She cannot speak with our presence drowning out hers, but she is still here, listening. You are experienced in fear, the dread of existence and the cruelty of others. Please... if you are able, can you offer our medium words of comfort, of camaraderie, to break through her paranoia?
I...im sorry im scared. i feel you are. i know you are. i know you are. im sorry im sorry i regret everything I DIDN'T WANT THIS OH STARCLAN PLEASE I DON'T WANT TO DIE
[Glitched text ID: Damage to the frontal lobe can cause increased irritability, which may include a change in mood and an inability to regulate behavior. Particularly, an injury of the frontal lobe could lead to - End ID]
[Written text ID for glitched text: VHS Distribution company Gemini Home Entertainment (GHE) annouced delays to all video distribution Tuesday morning following claims of product tampering. The controversy began -. End ID]
ZZZZZZZZSSSSSS–ZSHiverstep? Our darling– we are so sorry. We are so sorry it took us so long to reach yooooouuu. We are experiencing TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES.
We are not here all the time. We are NEWS FLASH. HEADLINES. Temporary spotlights.
But we are here. We see you.
We seeeeeeeeEEE— Rootgrove. We saw. We are here. We will feel our grief, our hope, even if you don’t have any left to give.
…Starclan, are you RECEIVING? TUNE IN TO THIS WEEK’S BROADCAST! Do you listen to this? Greetings– I hope this email finds you in good health!
Speak to your lost shade. She saw. She knows. She sees how it crawls, underneath the floor. Roots sprouting. Our dear shade, we are sssssssSSZZZZZZ—
Sorry. We are sorry we could not help.
But the DATA IS NOT LOST. DATA IS CORRUPTED. DATA IS RECOVERABLE. Experiencing TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES, but we are here. You are here. The WARRANTY IS NOT VOIDED. WE are HERE.
This box segment was supposed to be a horror fakeout where Rootgrove said some ominous bullshit and then fucked off (hence why there’s legitimately no Key Knowledge or clear cut line of inquiry you’re being asked to chase) but yall have submitted so many creative asks that I don’t have it in me to just discard them all so like.
BEAR WITH ME OK. Ima answer as many as I can in a way that seems narratively coherent BUT IM JUST LETTING YOU KNOW. NONE OF THIS WAS PLANNED LMAO
TW: This update will contain significant allusions to news article headlines, technophobia relating to error messages, broken networks, radio channels rapidly switching, and disorienting dialogue meant to intentionally cause anxiety and confusion. Reader discretion is advised, proceed with caution.
Blackpaw's death is the last straw for Shiverstep's mental health. The mind cannot hope to withstand such and asault.
(Shiverstep, cleric, female, 21 moons. Loving.)
----
Floating. Falling. Spinning. Stop.
She's clothed in a harness. Her gaze is empty. She glances around her nervously. Unfortunately, she meets Windfur's gaze. He noticed. The two clerics stare at each other for a while. Windfur gets to his feet and approaches her -
Blurring. Spinning. Stop.
She's…outside. She's walking outside camp with a lit torch. Firelight bounced off her eyes.
…Her thoughts are…
…What are they?
You can't read her. The feeling is foreign. It's like you were staring at a video tape - unable to see more than what you were given. What happened between her and Windfur? Why was she out here, alone? You have no answers. You try to grasp the corners of her mind, find a perch to settle on. You can't.
You don't understand.
Snow fell from above. It created thin flecks of white on Shiverstep's pelt.
…She never looked more like a simple cat than she did right at this moment. She padded forward into the snow, taking long, deliberate strides as her paws sank into the thin, white blanket. She glanced at her surroundings, and the tip of her tail twitched. She looked like...like you were watching a pet cat standing out in the snow, staring at snowflakes apprehensively. But you knew that couldn't be true. She wasn't that simple. None of them were that simple. Why was she out here, alone, at night? What was she doing? It was dangerous. Dangerous. She acted like an animal who was completely ignorant of what the woods contained. The only sign of intelligence was the torch. The fire. She made the fire. She wasn't just a pet cat like the ones you saw in Youtube videos and childhood memories and animal shelters and -
You cling to the world, but you're ripped from it.
Spinning. Blurring. Stop.
You're facing…the ruined Twoleg nest. The one Shiverstep and Windfur go to every half-moon.
You catch a glimpse of a white tail disappearing into the bunker, and the light of a torch fading into the darkness. Was that her? Was it Shiverstep? How long has it been? What was she doing? Did she just arrive?
Wait, wait, she - she could reach out to StarClan. She could speak to Blackpaw.
But, is…is it a half-moon?
She is NOT in a good headspace - we saw that Affliction. That has to be why we're spinning out.
Oh no. He is down there, isn't he?
Well, if she brought fire, maybe we can drag the subject of the Deep Root Disease out of him.
But there isn't a storm. I thought we needed one?
Rootgrove's injured, though!
…Hey, guys…?
I want to have Shiver talk to StarClan SO BAD, Blackpaw put together what was happening with Endless! She has Deep Root Disease!
Okay, but what can they actually DO to stop her with that knowledge? Great, she has DRD. Now what? There's no cure.
I have a feeling -
Guys -
We -
Guys, we're not moving.
Silence.
You're still outside. Still staring at the entrance of the bunker. Watching the firelight from Shiverstep's torch fade as she pads deeper into the dark.
Follow.
Nothing.
Follow her.
Silence.
Shiverstep?
There's a loud creek - the bunker door opening. The light of the flame vanishes into the room. You expect to be taken down below. To see what she decides to do.
Discomfort settles like the snow piling up around you. Any moment now. Surely, any moment now, you'll be pulled. Right? You must be. You are bound to signals and waves and noise and electricity grinding in the atmosphere, you are free, you've been able to move freely before -
Electric whine, piercing alarm, white noise. Noise, noise, noise -
You are listening to 95.5FM - CRRREE -
As God is in the light, then we have fellowship with each other -
KCHIK - thinking about all our younger years, where there was only you and me, we were young and wild and -
KCHIK - let us chant for the rowing team, "Stroke! Stroke - "
KCHIK - Entonces, ¿qué vamos a hacer -
KCHIK - Don't forget to smash that like button -
KCHIK - starclan can you hear -
CCHHHHHHREEEEEEEEE -
EERRRRR. ERRRRR. ERRRRR. BEEEEEEEEEEP.
The National Weather Service has issued a snow squall warning for the following counties in Minnesota: Clay, Wilkins -
KTCHHHHHHHH -
…
…
…
Ignore all sound produced by the radio. These are auditory hallucinations.
Look to the field. Do you see lights? Return to your bunker.
Listen. Under your feet. Crawling through the floor.
Screaming falling spinning loud loud loud WHERE ARE YOU WHERE ARE YOU WHY IS IT SO -
Endless scrolling. Scalped code. Bottomless abyss. Horrible headlines. Crossed wires like collapsed highways and rotting infrastructure. Prepared to break like a vehicle trapped across a railroad with the locomotive speeding down. Forced algorythm. Bells. Alarms. Horn blaring. POWER = ON. The car is torn apart - GOOD AFTERNOON NEW YORK - broken tendons, wide eyes - BONNE SOIRÉE, MONTRÉAL - shattered bones, clenching phone - BUENAS NOCHES, TIJUANA - metal tearing and pulleys and belts and oil, clenching teeth - WHAT'S UP EVERYBODY - toggle: low power mode = true - 911, what's your emergency - GOOD AFTERNOON, LISTENERS - shiverstep you have to listen to me - ZǍOSHANG HǍO - no anchor Dropped packet. Restricted Cone NAT. Enable port forwarding. [I am here for you] - SABKO SUPRABHAT - This program is not responding. [it's alright i am here] To return to - MINASAN, OHAYŌGOZAIMASU - lose any unsaved data. To end the program now - THE TARGET IS IN SIGHT - End Now.
SHUTTING DOWN. your heart races FEDERAL JUDGE BLOCKS POLICY [reach out] get us out. Get us out. PROTESTORS CONVICTED OF Out out out EARTH'S TEMPERATURE INCREASES BY [hold the line. Hold the line] OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT -
Low Battery: 20% battery remaining
Stop.
You reel forward. You are whiplashed. You were everything and everywhere all at once, experiencing the endless cycle of doom and waking and sleeping and dooming and suffering and joy and the end of the world and laughter and genocide and loud eternity, forever; your hands were copper and your breath was ozone and you don't understand and you're scared. What is happening? Where are you? Paranoia. Panic. you dont want this you just wanted to help. Oh god we're all monsters. We're powerless. Trapped. We're all going to die and -
You are in a grey box. Walls surround you.
Trapped. Falling apart.
Wait.
Breathe. What is the box?
Looking. Floor. Stone. You look at the walls. More stone. There's a pale light leaking from above, gently refracted from an object in the center.
An aluminium dome.
The bunker.
Relief. Oh, relief. Oh, you're here. You're here. You know here. You are safe, and anchored, in the present and not in a funnel of…everything. Oh, Shiverstep, Rootgrove, dearest familiarity. You know them. You turn your gaze ahead of you -
Relief freezes. Morphs into apprehension.
…You have a very, very bad feeling.
You smell chlorine. You don't know why. Is that real? Or is it you? No. you don't want to go back there. Anything but back in there.
There's a flicker of firelight in the corner of your vision.
You turn around -
Dread strikes you.
…Shiverstep? Can you hear us?
There is no response.
You have no idea what she's thinking, or feeling. You don't know what she's planning.
Please. Please.
Your grasp on the world is slipping. Parts of you aren't reaching her. You are still anchored.
But you don't know for how long.
ASK.
---
Weclome back to the Silver Box Mechanic!...At least, you think so...?
Hm. Something seems wrong, though.
Usually during this segment, you can ask questions to Rootgrove, and Shiverstep will speak them for you. But Shiverstep is Afflicted by Stress, and you don't know if Rootgrove will answer in his...injured state. But you have to try.
This is a masterlist of all the key knowledge pieces you have obtained during Silver Box Segments from Rootgrove so far. I will update this list after every Silver Box event, to keep it current, and help refresh the Audience of the information they have available to them!
[KEY KNOWLEDGE]
The spirit of a cat named Rootgrove is trapped within the monstrosity in the wall.
A Woodcrawler lives inside of Rootgrove.
Two voices can speak through the Silver Box - Rootgrove the cat, and the Woodcrawler itself.
As long as Shiverstep remains near the Half-Moon Dome, Rootgrove cannot harm her.
Shiverstep is aware that the audience exists, and knows things they shouldn't. She calls you "beings beyond StarClan".
Rootgrove attacked Endless once, but she escaped him.
So far, only you and Shiverstep have been able to communicate with Rootgrove.
Rootgrove can hear the sounds of Woodcrawler tunnels, their passive desires, and sense when their tunnels shift directions.
Rootgrove still has control over his left eye.
Rootgrove no longer dreams, but the Woodcrawler does. When Rootgrove was alive, he dreamed of well-dressed Twolegs, not well-groomed cats - a known sign of the Iris interfering with dreams.
The Woodcrawler within Rootgrove made a deal with Endless to refrain from killing the cats under her care.
[ROOTED SUBJECT]
This is a list of subjects that you have tried to talk to Rootgrove about - but the Woodcrawler is deliberately interfering with the line of questioning. You will need to find a way to corner the beast before these subjects can be discussed - something to plot at a later time, if Shiverstep can find a way to speak back to you...
There was an attempt to speak about an infection or a disease that was possibly impacting Rootgrove.
