Even muffled, half-lost as Ellis struggles to keep his grip while the creature bucks and thrashes beneath him, he hears enough and catches enough dread in Fitcher's voice to understand that they're fucked.

Potentially fucked.

Ellis doesn't say as much, because opening his mouth is sure to invite more of whatever this creature is excreting in. The noises it's making are horrendous. He tightens his grip on the mace, tries to draw it closer to choke it more effectively. The calculation he's making is...less than ideal. If he wants to tear wounds open across this beast's form, he'll have to let go of the mace. But he keeps relying on Fitcher, this could go poorly.

"Can you—"

Shoot it again? It's probably just as well Ellis is choked off by the creature's disjointed twisting beneath him. Ellis digs his heel in hard to the first foothold he finds (a hip bone??? maybe??) and spits out the disgusting taste in his mouth.

"Oh hell, stop!"

There's power imbued in that word. The vibration of it echoes outward from Ellis like a struck gong. He doesn't use this spell often enough to know immediately whether or not it works, and there's a pause, everything freezing while the creature struggles against the effect.