Post by Mammon on Sept 15, 2017 3:55:12 GMT
| Everyday Evil |
Mammon's PL: 146,860 Mammon's current PL: 146,860
GAIN BONUSES: 50x GRAV CHAMBER + AL PL MULTIPLIERS: N/A
One push up, two push ups, three push ups, four push ups, five push ups, he heaved himself up and down sweat trickling down his forehead as he rose and fell almost kissing the ground with his face, he was shirtless and had worked up quite the sweat training. hundred push-ups, hundred and one push up.
He stood and wiped himself down with a towel mobbing up the light sheen of perspiration, before following this up by strapping a thin length of pink fabric to his chest that came down to his knee’s, it was smeared in streaks of batter and another dark oily stain, it proudly proclaimed pretty princess. It was an apron, while he detested it he detested staining his clothes more. You had to make do with what you were given, hell didn’t have too many options and a man dying of thirst must drink what waters are offered, even if these waters be pink and princessy in nature.
He went to a small wood fired stove, stoking the flames with a wave of his hand and a silent muttering, ‘hey if you could light fires with magic you would use it as much as possible too’, he then opened a small wilting cupboard that was on its way to being firewood itself so scratched and scared was it, and withdrew a small cloth with two distinct round shapes tucked into them, and a pan putting it to the stove as he pulled the cloth away revealing two eggs and with a wave of his hand he brought them to a stove, cracking them on the pan’s edge and letting the gooey substance leak out onto the sizzling pan, following that up by placing a length of meat in the pan.
His lip’s puckered and he let out a high note, whistling to himself while thinking if the world could see him now, the scourge of worlds, the fiend of the pit, poacher of egg’s, maker of nutritionally balanced breakfast. He looked down and the egg’s and meat were starting to go black around the edges, he slid a spatula underneath the red cut flipping it and waiting five minutes before taking the pan off the stove, he began to set out a plate putting the eggs and meat onto it before leaving the pan to soak in a bowl of water.
“I am the scourge of worlds.”
‘More like the scourge of egg’s’, he poked the yoke and it dribbled out onto the plate as he began to use the piece of bacon to mop up the yolk and deposited into his mouth.
“The scourageist of scourges, yep. That’s me.”
I’ve been given permission by Somatrope to use his Gravity Chamber, and have flavored it during this thread.
