Chalk dust filled the air as Edgar worked his equations along the wooden mat he had placed in his living room, though truth be told it was much more like a vast study filled with books and trinkets across the ages. Along the walls were the words AIWISS and 418 etched in chalk like the marking of days in a prison cell. He seemed a madman, though his demeanor was calm and full of focus. Just now he was finishing the pentagram along the floor. 

He had read the Liber AL vel Legis, having been written by that fool Aleister Crowley whom he'd met a few occasions before the fellow's untimely death. He wrote his work in a completely esoteric fashion when it should have reflected the layman's occultism, and Edgar had to agree with Israel Regardie's criticisms of the work, and not just because the wizard had been far better friends with Regardie when he was alive! 

So it vexed him that despite the blathering, there was a bit of truth in the Liber AL, and after careful study, Edgar had deduced that there likely had been some [i]being[/i] that had visited Crowley when he was penning his work at Cairo over a century ago. Aiwass was one evidently known by Aud the Deep-minded in Snorri Sturlsson's 3rd and 4th lost manuscripts; the Galdr Edda and the Seidr Edda. No one save Edgar had touched Snorri's tomb since the 13th century, so Crowley couldn't have used the name in those lost books to perpetuate his own lie. 

Had that idiot known a form of magick that Edgar had yet to learn? Granted he still knew more about the Nordic way of the wyrd than any occultist, but it still vexxed him. Perhaps if Odin remained elusive, he could converse with this entity Aiwass and discuss magic  properly. He was nearly done with his ritual circle, merely needing some goat's blood to call the spirit into the room. He passed the burning hearth and entered the kitchen, washing his hands with Dawn(™) before collecting the blood bags from his freezer. 

Then his Android phone `pinged` like a morning bell, and he checked it to see he had a new email. "Bloody technology" he muttered, and opened the email after having to sign in and scroll and found Ellie needed him at the office. He lifted his lip in distaste. Not at Ellie, but the timing. It seemed the Norns still had their fun with him when they could, and he placed the blood bag back in the freezer and collected his things before entering the closet where he kept the Fjarskiptingu Steinn, or 'Teleportation Stone.' 

It was dangerous to teleport often, but as long as everyone at the office followed the bloody rules and kept out of his office, no one would end up as a Draugr or a blood smear upon the walls. He plucked a small sack of sulfur from his robe pocket and began to sprinkle the mineral upon the stone at his feet, humming a tune. 

[center]Be it Grim and the Grave, Wizard or the Knave. 
Hearken to my plea, grant me passage to flee. 
Your power I ask to loan, my precious teleportation stone.[/center] 

Ozone filled the air as lightning engulfed Edgar Stormraven's form, which gave his jackets nasty static shocks if he might add, and with a flash and a boom he stood at the center of a smoky room. Couching and waving about his arms, he fumbled for the door and opened it, letting the fog dissipate into nothing as he blinked, standing amid the office center. His room was the only one that was obscured by a windowless wall, so he could perform his experiments safely (for others, not just he!) 

"Oh this better be good, this better be good." The old man murmured, making his way to the break room. A small half room with two round tables, five chairs, a vending machine that ate up coins like Fenris ate hands, and a coffee machine that had been dubbed "jormungandr" because it was everyone's world in this place. He poured himself a hot cup of the brew, hoping beyond hope it was actually drinkable this time. Back in his day, they used fresh cow's milk for creamer rather than this corporate shit. 
 
[hider=Summary]He makes it to the office and grabs coffee[/hider]