Edgar felt the flames licking his skin, and the screams of those long dead still haunting his memories. He had to tell himself not to cover his mouth, for the air around him wasn't thick with smoke or embers that were scattered from fallen debris. It had been nearly two hundred years ago, on pentecost at Grue Church in Skulstad, on a bright morning when the fire had started. It had ended the lives of one hundred and thirsteen people on that day, the deadliest disaster by fire in Norwegian history. Only Edgar had escaped alive, and only he had discovered it was started by demons. The wizard clutched his shirt, trying to shake away those memories from so long ago. The elderly man was not there any longer. He told himself he was in the Seattle-Tachoma International Airport, and the panic around him was of the making of strange monsters, yes, but not the fire he had experienced so long ago in his childhood. 

He opened his eyes, and he was no longer the child caught in the fire. Flame was his tool and under his command, as were all of the elements under the sun. He did not have his grimoire handy, but he needed it not. He glanced Eleanor's way, watching the afterburn of her hex on the crowd and understanding the goal of her spell, even if he wasn't entirely certain of the end goal of how it would effect the monster-men attacking his comrades. Knowing Mael and Clive, they'll give as good as they get in most instances of danger. He needn't worry on them overmuch. 

His would-be apprentice on the other hand, was a different matter. At the corner of his vision he saw a brilliant flash of light from a ruined storefront, a sparking sign with DELTA CONVIENCE in large words died of power as he watched Val crawling away desperately from the monster-thing. Clearly it wasn't a norse beast, but he'd fought more than those chronicled by the Northmen. He started walking, making his way past screaming men and women tripping over themselves, grim as Odin himself. The wizard's casual-ware gave way to his arcane robes, brightly colored and etched in runes of old. He saw the thing reared itself up, spreading its arms wide to engulf Val in its embrace where it would devour her alive. 

Edgar, now around a score of feet away, flung his arm in the direction of the thing. Impossibly, a spiked chain shot out of his sleeve just under his arm. The spike impaled the demonic thing in the chest, causing it to wretch up ichor and bile onto the tiles just before Val's feet. The thing looked powerfully built and beyond his strength, and yet the chain held and despite the thing's desperate yanking, it was stuck with the chain impaled in its torso. 

"I banish you to Hel, beast. Know you not who wrought this chain? Made for Fenris himself it was, and you nor any other being on earth save the Christian Leviathan might even test its strength!" He declared, producing his shillelagh from behind his back. The creature, simian in build and demonic in visage, turned to screech at him. Instead it received a sound 'thump' as Edgar's blessed stick cracked its skull like a walnut, and it hit the ground noiselessly. Whether it was dead or not, he didn't know. But it wouldn't move from this spot so long as the chain bound it here. Even now Val saw the chain in its chest connected to some eldritch hole in the floor. 

"Get up girl, by Grimnir!" He chastised. "We have no time for you to be playing with these troll-spawn."

[hider]Edgar teaches one of these things a lesson in manners and saves Val[/hider]