Gorrmumu, Nekroturkey

January 03, 2018:

Atli preps a holiday dinner treat for Rocket, Groot, and a very special guest. Unfortunately dinner seems to have other plans.

The As-Guardian Residence

So thoughtfully provided by Phil Coulson where they can be monitored and at the same time not cause any Great Disturbances due to the current occupants.


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Sloane, Thor, Bucky


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

There are some quests that test the body. They rip and tear at muscle and demand every last inch a hero might give. Some quests test the mind in the same way, straining wit and concentration, drawing epiphany from the abyss to bring salvation or destruction. Others still, test the soul. And this is one of those quests, that demand something only the soul can provide: Patience. For you see, this quest is not the most important thing Steve Rogers can be doing, but like any thorn in the side, it must be plucked free eventually, even if it is not the most painful of his wounds.

It has all come to this. Months of searching. A break in the case, when Coulson's files had the new address for Rocket and Groot, Chair Thieves. Or.. chair re-homers? Something like that. Eventually, out of no where, Steve would get a text: Come get your chair back! 8pm Tonight.

Well, that was easy, right? The address is a little cottage in the New York suburbs, distinctly set on a large piece of land, as if whoever arranged for the Guardians to have a home here knew they might need the space. But not for explosions, definitely not for that! The front door beckons, the large house mostly quiet, but to an enhanced person such as Steve, there is a telltale sign of what's going on inside.

It smells delicious. Roasted meat, candied carrots, corn on the cob and creamed, with fresh bread and most importantly, stuffing. Glorious, perfectly cooked stuffing. Worse still for Rocket and Groot? Really, it's horrible to have to watch all that food be made, with a threat looming over each of them that anyone who touches it before their guest has arrived will find only a spear for their supper! They'd have to bear witness to the festive cooking of Atli Wodendottir, who somehow defies all conventional logic by being able to cook like a master chef.

But in all things, She Is Mighty.

Okay. Real food definitely beats pizza, which had more or less become a near staple for the more alien Guardians upon their thus far unspecified exile to Terra. Well, maybe exile is a strong word for it, but Rocket tends to get antsy if they stay in a place for too long, and it's been over a year now. Thankfully there are plenty of things to distract himself with.

At the moment, Atli's cooking is one of them. He stares with a fork and a knife in hand, having seated his little fluff-tailed tush at the dining table as he tries not to drool over everything. Now and then he steals a look towards the kitchen and then at Groot before finally asiding.

"…did you know she could cook?"

As a sidenote, Groot has tried to sneak a bite earlier. Having been through that experience, Groot knows better now.

Presently sitting next to the raccoon with a napkin tied around his neck, the tree tilts his head at the aside. The pause leaves him some room to think about it, thoughtfully glancing back toward the kitchen before letting his gaze fall back upon Rocket.

He then shrugs. "…I am Groot."

There is a knock on the door. It is a simple way to announce his presence, but the firm knuckles of Steve Rogers only offer a couple of taps on the door, keeping any sign of frustration or ill intent to himself.

While the proud shield of the warrior is slung over his back, Rogers is dressed in his causal attire, a slightly faded and worn brown leather bomber coat, a white t-shirt, and blue jeans. One of his brown leather sneakers taps against the ground as he waits for the door to be answered. Blue eyes glance to the right and the left occassionally, as if his 'danger sense' was randomly triggered by things that weren't there. But well, since he wasn't bitten by a radioactive flag, the only super senses he has are the slightly raised natural ones, which sadly aren't enough to tell him what the future will hold for him.

Really, Steve Rogers is lucky. Also, Peter Quill is not lucky. While these might be considered universal constants considering how life treats the both of them (and arguments on both sides might spur a heated debate), in this matter of Atli's dress at the beginning of her foray into cooking, this statement is assured. You see, for the first three hours of this endeavor, she thought it was customary to wear ONLY AN APRON. She did not realize this was incorrect until she was forced to watch a TubeYou video of Bobby Flay preparing his gravy. To which, she exclaimed.

"This Son of Flay does not respect his forebears! How dare he dress in such a ma-" But then several other cooks on the show, all wearing, you know, clothes under their aprons, help her put that particular puzzle together.

This is why Thor should never tell ANYONE about Earth customs.

After a short changing session, one that means that Steve will be greeted at the door by a dressed Atli, and simultaneously means Quill will never get a glance at Apron-Only Atli, continued cooking, moving a massive bird to the table, along with a mountain of sides. To her two companions, year long friends and her anchors on this world, she offers this appetizer: Two massive sweet rolls, and fresh churned butter. That's right! She whipped it herself! All night last night, with that racket!

This done, and the door ringing, she moves to open it. There, wearing much of her usual garb, though less covered in armor, is the Girl of Thunder. "Ah, YES! Come, join us Steven, Shieldmaiden of Midgard. Your place of honor awaits as we gather to give.. thanks? Yes? I understand there are specific days for this tradition, and others that have fallen by since. But we are doing our best to fit in and only two days ago was your chair finally ready."

As she steps aside, her blazing red apron with THE COOK IS ALWAYS RIGHT stenciled on it might draw his attention. But more so, will be the chair at one end of the table.

It's Steve's chair. Long lost. Found, at long last.

"Merry Thanksday, Rogers of Midgard. For you, we have refurbished your chair with the powers of technology from empires I cannot pronounce, but that Rocket and Groot have taken many things from. Maglev posture positioning. Wheels, greased with Bildgesnipe lard. A swivel made from a Shi'ar gravity gun. Screws replaced to the last with tintered Uru, and leather oiled with the sheen from the Child of Weirhsweir, Serpent of.. something or other. But do not worry, her daughter is very nice, if confused."

Yes, Atli is speaking of Sloane. Yes, Atli rubbed Sloane's scaled parts to extract oil from them. Do not question the methods of an Asgardian.

In any event, the chair looks perfect, and is waiting only for a perfect behind to sit in it.

Rocket had been testing his own luck by seeing how far he could get in poking a fork at the nearest dish before he might get swatted upside the head. Or into the wall. One thing might lead to the other, knowing Atli's strength. He however sits ramrod straight a dish is set in front of them with giant sweet rolls. His eyes grow to practically match them in size, and he manages to stab one to heft it onto his plate.

At the sound of their guest's arrival, he looks up. Oh, but it is a shame that Atli's not just wearing an apron, because he would have had a nice view as she went to get the door. Eh well.

"'sbaouf ime, Caf!" he greets around a hearty mouthful of fresh butter coated sweet roll.

Quill just has the worst luck, that's all. And while Rocket had his entertainment, Groot was just wondering if Atli was getting in touch with nature. Because that seems to be a thing humans and human-like peoples do whenever they have the chance.

But yes, Groot also doublefists fresh buttery-sweet rolls, noisily chomping away on them as the good Captain makes his way inside after the lovely Asgardian hostess. He fails to say anything this time, opting to wave a roll at the man with great gusto.

The warm 'HOWDY NEIGHBOR' smile fades into mild confusion as the holiday is offered by Atli. The First Avenger slowly nods in response before a shade of the previous smile returns to his face. "Good to see you, Atli. I hope you're well," he offers as he steps in. "I really wasn't planning on staying long, I just needed to-" Wait, the chair?

As the unveiled item is revealed, there is a blink of confusion as the chair is explained. He looks toward Rocket and Groot, an arched brow expression his uncertainty. His chair was stolen to be upgraded? It seemed like a Bucky move, but it doesn't seem as if the Winter Soldier had anything to do with this little adventure. "Well, that was a very um, nice thing," he states, not sure exactly how to handle this, clearly having mentally prepared himself for delivering stern lecture or perhaps even some sort of struggle for his property, if only to right the crime if nothing else.

Groot gets a gentle wave back, Steve still a little shocked at the turn of events.

The crime shown to have 'good intent', Rogers moves toward the chair, looking toward Rocket, then toward the chair. Then back toward Rocket. Then back toward the chair. It's as if there is a trust issue that Cap has with the little guy, but slowly he takes his seat, feeling as if he taking bait as if urged on to his doom by the Spirit of Goodwill.

All taking the bait will do in this situation is sooth those buttocks with the cool, cool, feel of Sloane-oiled leather. Atli did indeed need to trade a thing or two to Rocket NOT TO HAVE IT SABOTAGED but she insisted. This was important to her. Midgard, as it turns out, despite all claims to the contrary on her arrival… was important to her. The delight on her face when Steve takes a seat cannot be mirrored on a mortal one, and she very nearly claps. For someone used to being covered in blood and grime, she does not often express child-like excitement, but here it is in all it's glory. For about five seconds at least!

"No no, you must stay! I have a cooked a bird for you!" Surely, it must be close to one of Steve's many feeding times, right? Does not his body crave calories unbound? Soon the apron is discarded, and as she watches Rocket and Groot enjoy her fresh baked bread, she shoots them a grin. Then, she begins to carve a heaping pile of meat for Groot and Rocket in turn, and finally Steve, saving herself a massive drumstick. Then come the various sides, which she heaps onto oversized plates,piling everything on, until finally she reaches for the gravy.

"All of you, I insist. This gravy taught me many things about cooking. Including the proper clothes to wear. Please try it on your meat." And she will indeed use a ladle to dish out a little, at least, for each, but if anyone objects she'll stop there. The ladle itself MUST come from Asgard. Shiny, engraved with some odd writing. It is beautiful. Finally, when it's all said in done, a feast is ready, but with a stern look to Rocket and Groot, and with her taking a seat at the end of the table opposite of Steve, she takes in a breath.

"Steven Rogers, guardian of this Realm. First Avenger. You honor us with your presence, and for all the things you have done to keep this world as it is. Imperfect. Petty. Foolish, even." Her smile tilts and so does her head. "In this way it reminds me of my grandfather, Thor, son of Odin, fool of fools. Ah, well. It is a wonderful world, and we would not have it this way if not for you. Did you know there are naked people on the internet? Wonderful invention! All because of you! And because of this, I would ask you as our guest if you would lead us in the customary grace. But I bid you hurry, for Rocket may begin drooling again at any moment, and Groot, well. I do not know what he will do but it might involve roots and no one wants that."

It had taken some convincing to let Rocket relinquish the chair, but by then it was more out of stubbornness than actual want of the thing. He let Atli do as she pleased thereafter, figuring that at least it would be fun to throw off Captain America, and given the look on his face once he set foot through the door, he was right.

The sweet roll's practically gone but Rocket's still saved room for the main event. he looks back at Atli as though to ask what she's waiting for, but he waits because he knows Asgardians are long-winded. There's a guffaw as Atli goes off topic briefly, but then it's to be expected.

"Food! Food! Food! What's this grace business?" he shouts, pounding his silverware on the table.

Getting Steve's attention and a wave back just goes to show Groot how nice of a guy he is, even if it is a little hesitant in their current situation. Nevertheless, Groot thinks there should be more humans like Captain Steve Rogers.

He is, however, excited about the cooked bird Atli has out for their dinner. Although shrinking back a bit at the look Atli shoots them, the tree soon leans back in to ogle the pile of meat and gravy she dishes out. "I am Groo~t," he says with admiration, already prodding his meal with gnarled fingers.

He's with Rocket on this one. He's ready to eat.

Smile and Nod Protocol engaged.

As the talk of staying for food comes up, Steve gives an awkward smile, clearly out of place, but at least appearing friendly as he does so. "I guess I can stay for a couple of hours, had that chiseled out to-" ENSURE I GOT MY CHAIR "be social."

The food is piled on, Steve unsure what to make of the talk of gravy being a teaching aid. "Well, I am glad that you are enjoying your time on Earth." There is a brief moment of lips making a thin line at the talk of the availability of obscene material on the internet. "Well, I am glad that you are able to enjoy the personal freedoms that people have fought to protect. I can't take the credit for all that. I mean, there are hundreds of heroes that fight hard. Iron Man, Spider-Man, Black Widow, Ms. Marvel, Wonder Woman, Phil Coulson, I could go on for awhile. Just doing my part."

Then the talk of grace is brought up. "Grace, it's giving a prayer to God for what he's given. I'll make it short," he states before he lowers his head. He knows he doesn't have much time before Groot and Rocket may get bored and that could lead to Dangerous Things. "Thank you, Lord, for everything you'd done for us. For friends, for this place we can eat in safety, for challenging us to be better people and putting people in our lives to encourage us to be better. Let us enjoy this time together and let our friends and family also be safe and enjoy whatever meal they have. Amen." He looks up before adding in an educational moment. "Amen means you're done with the prayer." Part of him is tempted to ask why Quill never taught them grace, but then he realized Quill doesn't really practice any definition of grace from what little he gleamed from the man.

"I hope you all had a nice holiday season," Cap offers with a goofy and not at all forced smile.

Well, if Rocket was looking to enjoy Rogers' discomfort, it looks like he'll be able to feast on that for awhile too.

"Ah yes. Amen! Verily, let us eat and be merry, for tomorrow we may all die horribly from some invasion, blight, or other thing! Good company! Good friends all round! Cheers!" Then comes spiced mead, which Atli pours from a nearby barrel. It is literally always just in the living room, and she is now constantly getting it shipped in.

It. Is. Glorious.

With the mead dispensed and the orders to dig in, she gives a final one. "Try the meat first! And the gravy! If anything is amiss, I would know at once."

Of course, it is not until everyone is fifteen minutes or so into eating that Atli is so very happy that she must share one of her experiences in preparing this meal.

"Truly a meal well fought for as well," she says, chewing on some bird. "When I found out how free this land was, and that your favored symbol was an Eagle, I knew exactly the bird I should serve." Confusion waxes her face, and she gives a little shrug. "It took me all day to find one, but find it I did, and prepare it after hours and hours." She says this after taking a big, forceful bite out of the drumstick.

Is it.. really Eagle drumstick?!

Well, Atli didn't say where she got it, and would Rocket or Groot even care? Perhaps this is just one of those intergalactic pitfalls one encounters when trying to build bridges with an Asgardian.

"Tell me Steven, how is your chair? I made certain it no longer squeaked unless there was more than one person on it at a time, unfortunately there are limits to science."

"A-men," Rocket says, a bit more emphasized than necessary to be deemed anything sincere. Rogers said it means he's done praying. Rocket is merely underlining that point. With the subtlety of a jackhammer.

Reaching over, he hesitates before ripping off a chunk of whatever mysterious roast bird Atli might have cooked up, licking his chops before he settles back to commence devouring. "Yeah, sure. Nice holiday," he says dismissively, food sprinkling from his mouth as he fails to follow the rules of not talking with your mouth full. He takes a healthy swallow of mead, another of this and that, a rather loud belch to follow.

Seeing that the Grace thing is continuing onward, Groot is visibly conflicted. He's eager to dig in, but his fingers flex, wavering in the air as he glances back at the Captain. Of course, he's not sure whether he should follow suit with the bowing of the head, but he stays quiet long enough to listen to what is said.

"…I am Groot," comes his delayed response after the 'amen.' That is what's expected of him. He then adds another cheery version of "I am Groot!" to Atli's well wishes upon them all, lifting a piece of meat while he does so.

And now his maw is full of food. How did that happen?? "Ih amf Grfoot," Groot replies in a conversational tone, reaching for another helping when he isn't even done with the first round.

There is a long pause as Rogers tries to consider if Eagle can be purchased. There is a slow moment of consideration before a sniff and a small bite is taken. "For the record, you don't cook a country's national bird. It's supposed to be honored," he offers softly, though there is no malice in his words. After all, it's clear she's trying and Rogers is far more patient than most, understanding that one gets further with compassion than rage. Or at least that's what he's learned.

While Steve could also attempt to teach table manners, he looks toward Groot and Rocket before he just shakes his head and leaves it be.

Instead, Steve hrms and looks to the piece of furniture he's currently seated in. "Well, it's nice, that's for sure," he offers softly, looking it over again as he continues to wait for the other shoe to drop. He might be waiting for weeks until he finally is at peace with the 'improvements' of his chair.

"Well, I am glad to he-" Begins Atli. But she does not finish. No, she has no time to finish. For behind her comes a great, great light from the direction of the kitchen. It is a sickly green, and pours onto all of them as if it were attempting to project something. With the open floor plan, they can hear the oven snap open, the place where the Turkey Carcass (because it was indeed a turkey some poor kid at the supermarket had to convince Atli was an Eagle) rests. There is a great groaning. A horrible fluttering, and in comes flying… a book. A cookbook. Bobby Flay's ten years of recipes. It is massive, and slams on the table crushing what's left of the meat into oblivion. The ladle with all the runes on it glows green too, and then, there is the sound of massive wings.

With a great roar it leaps, rejuvenated but rotten turkey flesh hanging from it's engorged, massive, form. It must be five feet tall, nearly touching the ceiling when it lands on the table, clearing Atli's head in a bout of disgusting, slimy feathers.

Worse still, it speaks, it's voice booming, it's dead eyes looking no where in particular.


That's right.

Gorrmumu, Necroturkey.

Imprisoned forever in Zatanna's garden, where the silver ladle was buried under.. well. Near, a rose bush.

Rocket and Groot never should have had Atli around when they were moving.

The first page of Bobby Flay's massive tome turns, and though these words are not mystical, it is beholden to read them since.. it was the closest book.


Yes it is in fact going to read every word. On the plus side, that should take awhile. Days even. And who wouldn't want to spend their last days with Rocket, Groot, and Atli, especially if you have the most comfortable chair in the world?

( https://orig00.deviantart.net/95d3/f/2011/200/5/7/5784e0e95b41739db3e8b2d794e44a2b-d40x0vg.jpg )

Poor Steve might be paranoid for completely foundless reasons. …okay, maybe not entirely foundless considering who he's dealing with here, but in this case, yeah. That other shoe doesn't drop, however. It ninja BUSTS ITS WAY THROUGH THE DOOR.

Rocket is in the middle of eating. He's torn off the other drumstick since no one's made a grab for it, the thing ridiculously huge and nearly the size of his head but he eats it all the same, humanlike fingers wrapped around the end as his sharp teeth tear into the browned and seasoned flesh. In the next moment, he's splattered by gravy. Which, to be fair, still tasted pretty good.

Slowly, Rocket mops gravy from an eye, licking his fingers off as he peers past his drumstick at the undead monstrosity that's landed on their dining table. His brow twitches. Deliberately, he takes another bite of turkey, seeming to be unbothered by the fact that what the bird may have formerly resembled now sits there on the platter reading off the cookbook like some ancient tomb of spells. Wiping his gravy-licked hand off on a napkin, he then reaches under the table, pulls out his smaller blaster, levels it at the necroturkey, and pulls the trigger.

Well, look at that. Dinner AND a show!

Groot…can't help but stare at the turkey monstrosity after all of the noise and slamming happens, his jaw slack as some of the stuffing (?) slides down in sloppy drops back onto his dish. Like he's not sure what to make of this entry. Of this undead turkey nonsense.

"I am- "

And then Rocket gets out his blaster and pumps the thing without wasting any time.

Groot flinches, but isn't surprised in the slightest. An eye opens slowly after the fact. "…Groot?"

After another three seconds, he slowly applauds.

There is only one response that Cap really has for a situation like this.


There is total bewilderment as the magic of the holidays seem to take a dark turn and the creature makes itself known as Steve calmly pushes his plate away to show that the monstrous beast has caused Rogers to lose his appetite. He doesn't know what else to really do and say and then there is blast of energy from Rocket. Whatever the end result of the sudden outburst of gunplay, there is still the same calm but unsure question from Steve that fills the air, as if looped from a few seconds ago.


Gorrmumu continues. "TABLE OF CONTENTS."

BLAM. There is a sudden hole in the side of the rotting turkey head. Atli, for her part, does not wait. Her spear is in her hand in a mere instant, a surge of lightning flying through the air to deliver it, and she joins in with Rocket's incredulity at this THING splattering HER GRAVY everywhere! There is a roar, a battlecry, and then she leaps upon the table to slash her weapon sidelong in a great, sweeping arc which cuts into the turkey's puffed chest and sends molding feathers in Groot's direction.

"Foul beast! You have ruined the wrong Giving of Thanks Dinner! With your… loud words! Of culinary recipes!"

The blast does little, the hole where Rocket shot it reforms. Then so does the cut at it's chest. The bird does not seem to care for Groot's applauding, looking at him with one milky eye. Or.. is it just stuck looking that way? Nor does it answer Steve's question. Well. Maybe it does?


Atli simply stares at it, teeth clenched. Eyes wild. She looks to Rocket and Groot. Then looks to the beast. Finally she pokes it with the spear again, spilling maggots onto the table.

Then, one more, it regenerates.

"I…I will fetch Thor. We need more Avengers, you see." With a stumbling turn she goes for the door, reaching for it and pulling… to no avail.

She even tries planting her feet and pulling, but only a green glow surrounds the door. "This is.. impossible! What foul sorcery is this?! Steven Rogers! Help us! Please, inform this creature that this world is free and you, with all of your powers, shall not allow this ungainly resurrection!"


Not nearly as lost as Steve Rogers, Rocket's outburst is pure angry confusion. Angry because that thing should have been vaporized and two- well… okay. Same reason.

The smallest Guardian stands on his chair now, waving his turkey leg like a war club. He pauses almost thoughtfully as Atli's attack does little to thwart the dead bird's recitation of recipes. The turkey leg in hand sags a bit. "…oh crap, we're in trouble." If Atli and her mighty swings of death can't take this thing down, then. Yeah. That's…. Oh gross, maggots. Rocket looks a little sick at that, shaking his head, holding up his gun again.

"WHY ISN'T IT DYING!!!" he shouts, firing several more shots in between each word in punctuation. "What the- Groot! Do something! This ain't a show!!" He pauses as Atli's pleas to their resident hero sink in. "Rogers! Tell it it's ruining an American tradition!"

While clapping, Groot tries to avoid that eye, leaning one way and then the other. It's like those paintings that keep following your every move. Just grosser. And unlike the undead turkey eye, he blinks. "-I am Groot?"

Oh. Right. Maybe he should help with this. It's not every day they get to deal with an undead turkey reading all of Bobby Flay's recipes.

So the best thing he decides to do is…grab the turkey. He actually stands up and grabs onto the turkey while it's busy reading its brains out. Because who knows what else it might do while free, right?? Despite feeling a little accomplished, Groot slowly lifts his gaze from the thing and toward his friends. "Iiii am Groot???"

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License