> You eschew all hope of fighting for your life, and just start sobbing in terror. The Grue grins malevolently from the shadows as it steps towards you, causing you to vent your bladder.
> The Grue then stops, sniffs the air briefly, and steps back. The scent of your urine is most unappetizing, even to the ravenous Grue. Still, no Grue would turn down a free meal.
> The Grue drags you off to its lair, where it starts to clean off your filthy body.
>
> You in the lair of a loathsome Grue, where a Grue is cleaning off the numerous and varied filths from your disgusting body. It is surprisingly less erotic than one would think.
> The Grue is impervious to heat, cold, disease, and every sort of earthly weapon. It knows no fear or pity. It is stronger than the strongest Norseman, smarter than the smartest cyborg, and faster than the fastest wind. You are FUCKED, my droog.
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