#truthhammers

Drogar scoffed, looking at the mixing bowl in front of him, in which he'd precisely measured various ingredients. "Oh ye of little faith," he said as he precisely cracked the second egg, depositing the innards into the other wet ingredients, before taking up the whisk and beginning to blend.

"Faith has nothing to do with it, son." Drogan replied, his voice reverberating with the dark energies that animated him, his eyes aglow as ever. "I have the capacity to recognize patterns. A rare thing these days."

"Father, I love you, and I'm happy that even in your cursed state you have returned to spend time with th' family, but I am one of th' realm's greatest scientific minds, and I can make a bloody birthday cake by followin' a bloody recipe! I dunnae need t' be coddled!" Drogar insisted, beginning to blend the wet and dry ingredients, before speeding up to fold in air to give it the desired fluff.

Drogan arched an eyebrow. "You have a chef on staff. I understand he makes a fine cake."

"It is my wife's birthday and I want to do something special for her! Is that so wild and unreasonable?!" Drogar sputtered, flicking batter across the counter top.

"It is my daughter-in-law's birthday and I think she'd like her kitchen un-exploded." the old undead replied, face fittingly as impassive as a gravestone.

Drogar sighed, picking up the tray filled with batter and walking over to the oven. "It's going to be fine, I'm just following the recipe. This will work out pe-"

The next sensation Drogar felt was a chilling sensation at odds with the odd heat he felt across his body. Blinking his eyes, he rubbed at his goggles and looked up into the glowing eyes of his father, who was channeling ice across Drogar's body and the kitchen as a whole, putting out various flames.

"Wha... what happened?" Drogar asked his father.

Drogan could only sigh. "If I knew, I'd be taking your place as one of the realm's finest scientific minds. Clean yourself up and go to the bakery so you don't ruin the entire day for your wife."