usir | [open] don't you want to come with me?

[open] don't you want to come with me?

Character(s): anyone who wants to go poke some bones
Status: Open
Location(s): Epithymetikon's fall
Date(s) heading out on the 13th. however, the time at the skeleton can be as long or as short as people want.
About: What's up with that skeleton anyway? Time for everyone to find out.
Warnings: creepy magic nonsense

As the party approaches the skeleton, it becomes apparent as to why there are cursed rumors. No animals can be found near the skeleton: horses and animases both start to get a little uneasy and skittish the longer they remain near the skeleton. The dragon's great mouth is held open, as if by magic. At the back of the dragon's rib cage lies a shrine, the contents of which are magically preserved. All in all, it's a very creepy sight.

Still, the exploration party came here for a reason. Might as well get some magical analysis in before the behavior of the horses and animases force people to turn back.

( ooc: Feel free to make your own starter and tag around! Here is information about the gravesite itself as well as some ""fun"" things that might happen, should your character use some magic + be the dingus who decides to do necromancy. Feel free to have your character notice any/all of these in their explorations. )

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"No one offered to let me come back in a different body. You tellin me I could have been a goliath if I had waited around for the right offer?" Rocket shifts the direction while he tries to process the possibility that the dragons could be back in new bodies. What if they had been reborn as tiny dragons? What if one of the animas or people wandering around with them was one of the dragons? Rocket didn't like for a second the notion that a spirit could be brought back in a different body. It doubly challenged his views by combining resurrection magic with that complicated faith-based idea that his body wasn't his whole self.

Worse it makes him wonder if Lylla's spirit really is inside the otter that acts so much like his old flame.

He grimaces and digs his claws into his scalp, scratching harder than necessary at an itch well below his skin and inside his very being.

"This is all hypothetical, of course, but it might be a lesser offer. Some cultures believe in reincarnation, your same soul into a different body. Likewise, there's theories about golems, souls tied to mechanical or earthen bodies. To be brought back in the exact same body that we were when we died in such good condition...well, I'd call that a greater magic than either of the two."

Strange's tone is light, like they're having an idle chat about academics and not discussing their literal deaths and undeaths. He looks over at Rocket, with a little frown. The elf isn't the most observant person on the planet, but he's at least a little observant: this is really bothering Rocket. So, in a moment of compassion, Strange undercuts his nerdiness.

"Of course, all of those are just theories. I've yet to see any of them proven."

Rocket's ears stay back but he drops his hand and lightly pushes the clinging otter away with a shake of his leg, pointing her back to the ground. Without words Lylla follows his instructions, climbing down the skeleton reluctantly. He can feel both her discomfort and his own and the echo is distracting, unsettling. He sighs out a huff of air and his mouth twists into a frown.

"If, and this is the biggest if to ever if, I'm talking-" He stretches his arms out, exaggerated, as far as they will go, looking over at Strange again.

"If the dragons' souls or whatever were brought back in a different body, all that big dragon brain crammed into something-" He brings his hands back together, nearly touching. "Small. Tiny, comparatively. Do you think, hypothetically, they'd still have all that power? I mean- folks go mad don't they? Too much magic fucks with your head. And assuming only the mind came back. Just a big old dragon brain stuffed into a new body, smaller, confined, confused. Ain't natural. If that happened. What do you think they'd want? What's whatever brought us back want?"

He looks away when he stops talking, his arms crossed over his chest, hands tucked beneath them to grip at his sides where no one can see the gesture. He stares straight out at the quiet, snow-covered plains and tries to scowl to hide his unease.

"I don't see what it's all got to do with bringing a bunch of losers back from the dead."

Strange can't help but wrinkle his nose a little as Rocket calls them all a bunch of losers. He's far too arrogant to believe that he counts in that loser bracket. Someone (his money is on the dragons) brought them back for a reason. And that reason is not because they're a bunch of losers.

"You might think that you're a loser, but I certainly am not." He's amazing, okay. Or at least, moderately amazing. The shreds of self-doubt that linger in the back of his brain are not being vocalized right now. "We were brought back for a purpose. Whoever brought us back could have chosen army generals, powerful mages, and yet they chose us. It must be for a reason."

It had to be for a reason. Strange refused to believe that it could be the luck of the draw. "As for your other point, yes. You can go mad. But I believe in the dragons and I believe that they're powerful enough that if they were reincarnated into something smaller and less powerful, they are strong and smart enough to adapt."

"Oh yeah, we're real special. We're gonna save the fucking world. Please. You're the biggest loser here." Rocket snorts, gesturing at the big dead dragon below them. "You organized this whole little field trip. You're standing on the bones of a dead dragon talking theories about how they might not be dead because you think you're special and you can't handle the fact that they didn't bring us back and someone's been pulling your leg this whole time.

Yeah, that's it Rocket. Conceal your own feelings by lashing out and calling other people out on theirs. Such a people person.

"You can keep your fairy tale but the rest of us have to live in the real world. And what a surprise, it's as miserable and pointless as always."

Strange can't help but narrow his eyes in annoyance as Rocket continues to talk. Of course they were brought back for a reason. Of course he was brought back for a reason. Strange refused to think otherwise. He just needed to explore and work and find out what the reason was.

"And who do you think brought us back?" Strange snaps. "I at least have an idea. But as far as I can tell, you don't." As much as he hates to admit it, the dragon theory is just that: a theory. But it's certainly more than Rocket has, so Strange is clinging tight to this theory and not letting go.

"Dumb luck. Or misfortune depending on how you look at it. My money's on fluke, freak accident, or bored necromancer practical joker with too much time on their hands. Whoever it is they have a sick sense of humor and enjoy fucking with us. If the courier messages aren't proof enough of that I don't know what is." Rocket shrugs, only feeling a modest flicker of guilt for riling Strange up. He knows they're both in more or less the same place, just coming from different directions. Neither of them has a clue what's really going on.

Rocket drags a hand over his face and plops down over what would have been the big guy's eye, staring down at the rest of the group.

"They could have at least told us what the fuck they want."

"Does it matter what they want? Depending on the circumstances, I wouldn't have listened."

There's all sorts of shady reasons as to why they could be brought back and, depending on some of the shady reasons, Strange straight up would have ignored them. Whoever brought them back didn't have any control over them, after all.

"Though I'm less willing to believe it's a necromancer. Our bodies must have decayed to practically nothing. It would have taken a great deal of magic to raise all of us, and I don't think that one person could do so by themselves."

Just ignore the fact that it sounds like he's speaking from experience.

"It would give me a place to start." Likely the exact opposite of whatever they wanted from him unless it came with compensation that was worth whatever they asked or demanded he do. Then again, it could be worse he supposes. They could have been forced to comply without a choice in the matter somehow.

He squints at Strange through narrowed eyes, but the man has a point. One hundred years wouldn't have left much of anything on their bones even if they hadn't been left to the mercy of scavengers. And that is another fucked up thing he would like to pick a bone with someone over. Yes, wars were bloody and the death toll had been uncomfortably high, but someone could have made some effort to bury the bodies or clean up the battlefields.

"Wasn't aware there were any other types of people who raise the dead. What did they do, heal our bones back to life with the power of light?" This time his words hold less bite and more confusion.

Hmm. He might not have phrased that well. Strange's face goes from confusion to frowning as he mulls things over and tries to think of a better way to phrase his crack theories.

"What I meant was that I suspect it was a group of necromancers, a god, the dragons, and so on and so forth. I don't think this was just the work of one being like you or I." Or any other people who walked the earth that weren't elves or beastfolk.

Hopefully that explained things better. Of course, all of those options are inherently more terrifying than some loner with too much time and power on his hands, but they also (unfortunately) make sense.

Rocket begrudgingly has to admit that makes more sense. He drops down into a sit on the dirt covered bones. his feet dangling off the front. He always knew the big boy was a mammoth of a dragon but being on his skeleton is something else entirely.

"Could be some kind of bored cult using us to test their skills." Rocket would almost prefer Strange's notion it's gods or dragons.

"Unless dragons reincarnate something would have to bring them back for them to bring us back. Seems like a lot of effort either way. You'd think they would want to stick around after."

Strange can't help but wrinkle his nose a little as Rocket mentions a cult. Obviously, he's a fan of gods or dragons over the cult theory as well.

"You're right about that—it is a lot of effort and I am surprised that whoever brought us back didn't stick around." They had a hundred years knowledge gap! The awakened would be perfect to lie to, manipulate, or twist into something else. Why hadn't anyone done so yet?

Carefully, Strange moves to sit next to Rocket. "Unfortunately, I don't have an answer for that."

"Guess we all get to play the guessing game then." Rocket stares out at the plains around them and shakes his head. He doesn't like not knowing. It's stupid, because even if he did know he would just deliberately refuse to cooperate or go along with things begrudgingly, complaining about the gall of their resurrectors the entire time.

"We don't even know how we're alive. Sooner or later someone's gonna figure out that we don't belong here and things are gonna get messy. Especially when they start realizing we don't even stay dead." Rocket has no idea how many other awakened are aware of that, but he knows he died again and came back, again. Which meant someone or something really didn't want him staying dead.

"For all we know we're someone's experiment. Some god, or creature, or people, trying to test their abilities. See how many times they can bring us back before there ain't anything left of us." His voice is less bitter now, contemplative in a somber, uncomfortable way that isn't his usual. The paranoia in the air is making him more introspective than he typically gets around people he doesn't know that well.

'We don't even stay dead.' Strange isn't the best at hiding his emotions. As soon as Rocket says that, he tenses up a little, obviously looking uncomfortable. Because he also died again and came back again, coming back to life after being mauled by one of those creatures during the Long Night.

"At least whoever brought us back granted us time. I think that our lives are tied to those vials we have. The liquid in mine lessened after I—after I died again." It is so hard to get those words out, but the sooner he accepts it and the more he vocalizes it, the better. There's a long pause before Strange asks,

"Was yours during the Long Night as well?"

Rocket hasn't talked about it to anyone since his death, not even Groot, and it twists something uncomfortably in his gut to think about that dark, colorless feeling world that followed the manticore's teeth.

Lylla bears a mark Rocket doesn't understand, one that she has had since he woke up outside the city following his death, when the sun was back up in the sky.

"Yeah." His answer is gruff, his eyes avoiding Strange and focusing on Lylla reluctantly curled up between two rocks down below, trying to hide herself from the uneasiness he could feel from her.

"Some kind of manticore." He pulls his vial out from under his shirt, offering it out toward Strange and glancing toward him. His was lower than when he first 'woke up', but only by a very little. "Didn't pay that much attention to it before, but it ain't the same level as some of the others I've seen since."

"Mine was imps." And Strange pulls his vial out as well and shows it to Rocket. The liquid in his vial is lower than Rocket's, but only by a little bit.

"I think these are the things that keep us alive. I don't know how or by what magic, but after I revived, I felt a compulsion to find this thing." His vial was close enough to him, knocked to the side during the attacks, but it was distant enough that Strange didn't have it on his person.

There's a small pause before he hesitantly asks, "Before you revived, did you see that...thing on horseback?"

Rocket looks it over and then tucks his away again. The vials are weird but he had felt the same compulsion and is about to say as much when Strange finishes with a question that makes Rocket's hairs start to stand on end again.

"Yeah. Couldn't get near to it but I saw it." He could still feel the way that double set of glowing eyes had watched his movements. A shudder he can't control runs through him and he sees the shadow out of the corner of his eye again, leaving him feeling even smaller than he already is. He doesn't admit that he still thinks he sees it following him sometimes.

"When I came to I was outside the city, and someone had tattooed a mark into Lylla's fur."

On the one hand, that's good. That means he wasn't going mad (again), that he really did see something there and really did see that shadow before he revived. But on the other hand, that's bad. What the hell was that thing? And why did Strange feel like he could spot it out of the corner of his eye every now and then?

As Rocket mentions the mark, Strange nods, making a small noise of agreement. After all, something like that happened to his animas as well. "It was the same with Bell. Hers was a blood red marking. I tried to trim it out, but it keeps growing back that same color."

"Yeah, sounds like what Lylla's got. Think it's some kinda warning?" He's hoping it isn't a curse. In the time he's spent with the otter Rocket has grown even more attached than the intrinsic attachments of their first suspiciously magical meeting. She was something made of magic which made it all the more strange that he felt such a kinship to her. Maybe that was artificial but he couldn't change it or imagine losing her now.

"She ain't too fond of this place." Rocket wasn't either, but he hadn't felt the panic as quickly as she had. He had never been unnerved by ghosts or the dead like other folks, but even he felt like he shouldn't be there.

"I just wanted to see if the bones were really here." He wrikles his nose, a thought crossing his mind. "Can you imagine what the smell must have been like for months? Maybe years." They were big boys, those dragons.

Strange shrugs! He honestly has no idea what that red mark means. A warning, a reminder, something else entirely...all he knows is that it won't come off and just looking at it made him intensely guilty of dragging her out there with him. He's just as attached to Bell as Rocket is to Lylla. He wouldn't let that happen to her again.

"Bell isn't either," Strange admits. And to be fair, he's not fond of the place as well. He's just shoving that down and hiding it under the veil of academic curiosity.

But he does understand Rocket's line of thought. For all everyone said the dragons were dead, seeing their bones like this puts everything into perspective. He can't help but smile a little as Rocket continues talking. "It's a pity that I haven't really seen any animals around here. There could have been some fat, happy vultures if they were adventurous enough to come close."

Rocket snorts again and imagines vultures too fat to even fly just lazing around on the ground. It would have been a hilarious sight and an interesting compiled effect. Vultures becoming food for wolves and bears and then smaller scavengers, who would feed more vultures, small predators, and other scavengers.

He has never been the biggest fan of the food chain, given his uncertain place on it as small as he is. He makes up for it with ferocity but the manticore had proven that wouldn't always work. And now Lylla was in the equation as well.

"I'm just glad whatever ripped us out of the ground decided to do it after the rotting part ended." After a pause he rubs at his own arm, pushing his fur back against the grain. "And without rot."

Which makes another thought occur to him.

"I didn't have any injuries when I came back." He should have. The thing had been dead set on eating him. Rocket hadn't been alive for that and he's glad, but it makes him wonder how his body even came back from that.

"I didn't either," Strange admits. "And considering that I practically bled out, I should have some." Or at least a huge scar on his side. But no, when Strange woke up, it was as if he had never been injured in the first place.

It's odd. And slightly worrying. And he's not entirely sure what to think about that.

"I'm just glad that Bell isn't injured. She was hit hard."

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[open] don't you want to come with me?

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best friends

they get along so well

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