Rose knew that going down the vine was- well, it wasn't exactly smart.
In fact it was actually a pretty dumb move, not much more then a gamble. There were a number of things that could've gone wrong: The ogre could swat them. The vine could break. The ogre could stomp them. Maybe her body, not having moved for years, perhaps centuries, would lose grip. The ogre could grab them and eat them.
Unfortunately Murphy's Law was not on the witch's side. The ogre moved like something that was not a giant lumbering monster. The ogre's hand shot out at Rain, barely missing her, the girl falling into the mud below. Luckily she got out unscathed, but that truth wasn't the same for Rose. As she made contact with the ground the massive creature grabbed at her, desperately grasping for her arm. The ogre successfully caught its prey.
Rose felt herself being lifted into the air, the crushing pressure of the ogre's hand on her arm like a vise. She heard a loud snap, and felt a sharp pain in her arm. Shit, shit, shit, shit, not good, not good. She was internally screaming, and then she externally screamed. A sharp, shrill, very loud screech escaped her mouth- it seemed like witches, as a rule, were good screamers. For the first time since awakening Rose had lost her cool, understandable since she was dangling in front of an ogre's gullet with a broken arm. "Let go of me you bastard!" She grunted out in pain. Okay, c'mon Rose, think, you've got to get out, you've got to get out or you're going to die.
Witchcraft was a very exact art. It required preparation. It required exotic reagents. When one performs a spell or ritual they are in essence borrowing a piece of some hellish deity's power, all the steps that go into it are merely to appease whatever terrifying creature that is being called on. In theory it is possible to cast magic without going through the proper rituals. Of course attempting to call on a creature's power without performing these rituals was absolutely, totally, completely insane, and was certain to draw some sort of terrible repercussion. Any respectable witch would not consider this. In a world of blood, bones, and child sacrifice it was the closest thing there was to a taboo. It was simply in bad taste- bad for the witch herself, bad for the people around her, bad for the demon they're calling on, all in all a very unwise idea.
All of this is to say that Rose was about to do exactly that. Rain would more then likely be unable to save her from the ogre. She couldn't get out by herself. She needed magic. She rose her free hand to her mouth, putting a finger to her teeth. Very pointy teeth. Pointed teeth were a valuable asset for any witch. They were scary, they were handy as a weapon, they could do all sorts of things. She bit down, drawing blood from herself. The blood dripped freely to the ground. It wasn't much of an offering, but it was more than nothing. She chanted under her breath, "Xaphan da mihi spiritus autem ignis." It was a small spell. If there was a hellish being listening the ogre would be hit by a small blast of fire- not enough to kill it, more than like, but it should hobble it, and hopefully force it to release her. Of course that creature wouldn't be happy to share it's power. It'd more than likely take more from her- maybe more blood, maybe a limb, maybe it would decide to set her on fire too.
She could only hope it would only maim her a little.
In fact it was actually a pretty dumb move, not much more then a gamble. There were a number of things that could've gone wrong: The ogre could swat them. The vine could break. The ogre could stomp them. Maybe her body, not having moved for years, perhaps centuries, would lose grip. The ogre could grab them and eat them.
Unfortunately Murphy's Law was not on the witch's side. The ogre moved like something that was not a giant lumbering monster. The ogre's hand shot out at Rain, barely missing her, the girl falling into the mud below. Luckily she got out unscathed, but that truth wasn't the same for Rose. As she made contact with the ground the massive creature grabbed at her, desperately grasping for her arm. The ogre successfully caught its prey.
Rose felt herself being lifted into the air, the crushing pressure of the ogre's hand on her arm like a vise. She heard a loud snap, and felt a sharp pain in her arm. Shit, shit, shit, shit, not good, not good. She was internally screaming, and then she externally screamed. A sharp, shrill, very loud screech escaped her mouth- it seemed like witches, as a rule, were good screamers. For the first time since awakening Rose had lost her cool, understandable since she was dangling in front of an ogre's gullet with a broken arm. "Let go of me you bastard!" She grunted out in pain. Okay, c'mon Rose, think, you've got to get out, you've got to get out or you're going to die.
Witchcraft was a very exact art. It required preparation. It required exotic reagents. When one performs a spell or ritual they are in essence borrowing a piece of some hellish deity's power, all the steps that go into it are merely to appease whatever terrifying creature that is being called on. In theory it is possible to cast magic without going through the proper rituals. Of course attempting to call on a creature's power without performing these rituals was absolutely, totally, completely insane, and was certain to draw some sort of terrible repercussion. Any respectable witch would not consider this. In a world of blood, bones, and child sacrifice it was the closest thing there was to a taboo. It was simply in bad taste- bad for the witch herself, bad for the people around her, bad for the demon they're calling on, all in all a very unwise idea.
All of this is to say that Rose was about to do exactly that. Rain would more then likely be unable to save her from the ogre. She couldn't get out by herself. She needed magic. She rose her free hand to her mouth, putting a finger to her teeth. Very pointy teeth. Pointed teeth were a valuable asset for any witch. They were scary, they were handy as a weapon, they could do all sorts of things. She bit down, drawing blood from herself. The blood dripped freely to the ground. It wasn't much of an offering, but it was more than nothing. She chanted under her breath, "Xaphan da mihi spiritus autem ignis." It was a small spell. If there was a hellish being listening the ogre would be hit by a small blast of fire- not enough to kill it, more than like, but it should hobble it, and hopefully force it to release her. Of course that creature wouldn't be happy to share it's power. It'd more than likely take more from her- maybe more blood, maybe a limb, maybe it would decide to set her on fire too.
She could only hope it would only maim her a little.
