If nothing else, at least that's proven that lets them get their attention. Lambert isn't paying as much attention to his surroundings as he should be, but with the strength of this spirit powering him, he at least manages to brace against being knocked down flat, though he skids back a few good feet or so and the flying ice shards cut at his arms. Ice spikes come up to gash at his belly, but another surge of will and a wave of his hand -- he's cast a spell like this before so many times he's already lost count -- push a wall of flame outwards from his hand in a steady stream, melting a path through the ice.
A familiar screeching overhead makes him glance up.
Right. One of the other reasons he's doing this. Though every second they spend standing here is bringing back more of his real memories, part of him still clings hard to the false life he's lived here, and his resolve firms again, raising his chin and looking at the count. Even if the fae wears no expression at all, Lambert grins, reaching over his shoulder.
It's a funny gesture, since he doesn't have anything there, but the moment his fingers touch it, there's a blaze of light and -- he's holding a sword? It's kind of like a sword. It's really concentrated willpower and whatever the hell kind of earth spirit high he's currently on.
"Come on!" he shouts -- at the Count of Crows, at everyone else trying to converge at the ritual point, at the Earth Spirit, who knows -- and he rushes forward again. He'll be using the 'sword' to parry and cut through whatever's flung his way, entirely heedless of the fact that he's started dripping blood from his nose.
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A familiar screeching overhead makes him glance up.
Right. One of the other reasons he's doing this. Though every second they spend standing here is bringing back more of his real memories, part of him still clings hard to the false life he's lived here, and his resolve firms again, raising his chin and looking at the count. Even if the fae wears no expression at all, Lambert grins, reaching over his shoulder.
It's a funny gesture, since he doesn't have anything there, but the moment his fingers touch it, there's a blaze of light and -- he's holding a sword? It's kind of like a sword. It's really concentrated willpower and whatever the hell kind of earth spirit high he's currently on.
"Come on!" he shouts -- at the Count of Crows, at everyone else trying to converge at the ritual point, at the Earth Spirit, who knows -- and he rushes forward again. He'll be using the 'sword' to parry and cut through whatever's flung his way, entirely heedless of the fact that he's started dripping blood from his nose.