It’s been a while since he’s been in immediate combat like this: not facing grandiose spellslinging Venatori on the back of a dracolisk, just an elf brandishing a sharp stake. But a companion. One he doesn’t want to harm.

Strange’s arm whips up with a glowing golden shield snapping into place: the stake slams into the magical barrier and skitters off. The sorcerer keeps the shield up as the Urge comes barreling at him, swinging wildly, and Strange has to desperately meet each strike with a deflect of his own. He has to occasionally sidle backwards and give way, not going on the offensive yet, shouting instead:

“Tav! Tav Whatever-Your-Unknown-Last-Name-Is— Tav, for the love of god, stop this. Snap out of it!”