[...] Something huge and furred and stinking smashes into you and knocks you from your feet. Claws rake into your chest. You swing out wildly, but the attack is already over; the Vake has retreated for another charge. [...]
[...] You raise your club and swing with every ounce of strength you have. It bounces harmlessly off leathery skin, but the Vake is deflected, at least. It screams with laughter as it whips past you.
