From behind that creature, heard by no one: Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

It moves too quickly, and covers too much distance. Ellis is briefly livid, choked with frustration as he speeds after it. Even when stood directly beneath that creature, it had been hard to tell exactly what toll their efforts had taken. Ellis' borrowed radiance has begun to fade; there's a moment where he wavers between casting it again and trying a different approach.

He can hear the sound of Fitcher's further retreat, curses under his breath and takes a running leap forward and launches himself at the creature. There is, as always, the moment when Ellis thinks he'll regret getting this close just because of the stink of it, but it's too late for a change of course. Trying to choke this thing with the long handle of his mace might at least keep it on the ground long enough for her to get another shot off. His mouth and nose are filled with the scent of decay. There's something slick clinging to his skin, soaking all down his front.

The walk back to the carriage is going to be miserable.

"Try something else! Another bolt!"

Which are probably Ellis' famous last words before this backfires on him.