"It was a beast," Edgar answered, vaguely recalling rumors of the undead that haunted Doyleton on one of the previous trips- before his time, he imagined. "Some sort of a feral cat, but its flesh was decaying, its body playing host to parasites. Our attacks did little to slow it down until the very end- and believe me, we had a powerful weapon on our hands." He couldn't help but grin, thinking of the chainsaw in his hands, the handles shaking in his grip as the engine roared. Powerful and beautiful.

No use getting nostalgic now, especially since it was unlikely he'd be finding another opportunity to hold such a tool for some time, even if he could find one. Guy's mention of healers, though... It occurred to Edgar that while he'd lost his skills in magic since his arrival, other more adept mages might have had more luck. "I'll have to look into that," he said, gripping the fork in his hand tightly as he leaned back, hissing as a wave of pain tore from his shoulder through his neck. "I never realized how dependent I was on heavy armor and potions until now," he muttered to himself.

He continued after a moment: "I've already redesigned the tool I was working on before- had to shift the weight to the other side and to my waist, since carrying anything with this arm is out for now."