As the first arrow flew, causing a little environmental damage, Lezard's patience began to wear thin. To begin reaching his perceived limit in this damned form was nothing short of frustrating - nothing they've faced on this mountain would be of any difficulty were his powers restored.

Yet, with grit teeth as he fought to remain cool, he reached once more into his soul. His end of the resonance wavered once, but Lezard gave it a push to maintain his connection. Sweat had beaded at his brow within the soul space as he conjured one more group. He would have those souls, by the foul gods... he would not let himself fall here.

"Make them count!" He warned. He was sure this would be his last, as much as he hated to admit it. As the yeti quickly approached, throwing snow and soil everywhere, he would maintain his composure the best he could. He's faced down gods... what were foolish immature demons!?

"Flames are not only heat; they are light as well. The hair is thinner over the face, the eyes. When it is distracted, strike without mercy!"