Tyki's effort to contact the witcher isn't entirely in vain. Tyki's and Yuya's texting rings, if they're paying attention, light up with a short but none too descriptive message.
On my way.
In the destruction that the Mother of Invention's wrought, there's no shortage of shadows, and while everyone else is in the middle of preparing for their assault, the witcher shows up and off to behind her side, coughing in the smoke pouring in from the Farm. It's hard to even make out where any of his allies are, from here, but if nothing else, the Mother of Invention makes herself a ready target.
Childermass is gone as quick as he dropped him off, hopefully back somewhere safe, and Lambert honestly hasn't got the slightest idea if this the best place for him to be right now. But nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? He grips the iron knife between his teeth and starts running at the Mother of Invention, ignoring the pain racing up his side and changes mid-leap.
So yeah, now there's a dragon trying to leap onto the Mother of Invention from the flank, his aim to find purchase on the joint of her shoulder and use the force of his landing and weight to tear that arm off . Lambert doesn't know if the spell from Wismuth that's supposed to keep him from being grabbed and held will hold any water against a True Fae, but he sure as hell hopes it does, or at least keeps him from being immediately slapped away by one of those nasty-looking mechanical arms.
no subject
On my way.
In the destruction that the Mother of Invention's wrought, there's no shortage of shadows, and while everyone else is in the middle of preparing for their assault, the witcher shows up and off to behind her side, coughing in the smoke pouring in from the Farm. It's hard to even make out where any of his allies are, from here, but if nothing else, the Mother of Invention makes herself a ready target.
Childermass is gone as quick as he dropped him off, hopefully back somewhere safe, and Lambert honestly hasn't got the slightest idea if this the best place for him to be right now. But nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? He grips the iron knife between his teeth and starts running at the Mother of Invention, ignoring the pain racing up his side and changes mid-leap.
So yeah, now there's a dragon trying to leap onto the Mother of Invention from the flank, his aim to find purchase on the joint of her shoulder and use the force of his landing and weight to tear that arm off . Lambert doesn't know if the spell from Wismuth that's supposed to keep him from being grabbed and held will hold any water against a True Fae, but he sure as hell hopes it does, or at least keeps him from being immediately slapped away by one of those nasty-looking mechanical arms.