Information

Badwik has a minion!

the Bad Egg

Badwik
Legacy Name: Badwik

The

Graveyard Charlie
Owner: Abysmal

Age: 16 years, 4 months, 2 weeks

Born: November 4th, 2009

Adopted: 16 years, 4 months, 2 weeks ago (Legacy)

Adopted: November 4th, 2009 (Legacy)

Statistics

Level: 20
Strength: 22
Defense: 20
Speed: 20
Health: 21
HP: 21/21
Intelligence: 74
Books Read: 53
Food Eaten: 7
Job: Groomer

CREDITS

profile template (c) helix (get it)
BG by Hermes Rivera on Unsplash

He vomited once, more of a ragged cough, and again but there was nothing in his stomach to expel. A small trickle of bile dribbled from his trembling lips and mixed with the copious amounts of blood surrounding him. As his entire body broke out in shakes, he gripped the knife tighter with both hands and stared at the stained blade. He focused on it desperately as an anchor while waiting for the ringing in his ears to stop. He waited and waited, trying in vain to steady his breathing at least but no relief came. and willing his breathing to finally steady. All he wanted was for it to end, but he was afraid to close his eye again. Afraid of the images of the massacre that would flood in like a suffocating wave. Something inside of him swelled and at the crescendo of the strangled shout he hadn't realized was spilling from him, the knife plunged towards his abdomen.

Badwik woke with a deep guttural moan, senses immediately assaulted by an overpowering stench of death. It clung to him, clawed at his every pore with each ragged breath. He was sprawled on the stone floor and everything ached, dull and constant but the searing pain from the knife was gone. He tried to roll over onto his side but almost blacked out as the pounding intensified in his skull. Resigned to his prone position, he slowly took stock of all digits and limbs in the smallest possible doses. As the ache became familiar enough to overlook, he gingerly inspected the bloody tear in his shirt. The knife he had intended to sink deep into a vital organ was lying innocently nearby as his only companion. He glared at the inanimate object, cursing his luck for not having landed on it, and reached out for the hilt. It was cool in his hand when every inch of him felt on fire.

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