Get the lube

"I have some bear grease," you say, stepping over to your dresser. "I use it when I jerk off, as well as for keeping the rust off my blade and protecting my leathers from the rain. Tastes pretty good, too." You dig around in your collection of knives, bone ornaments, arrowheads, elk teeth, and who knows what else, looking for the little earthen pot of grease. "I know it's in here somewhere..."

"Don't bother," the foxboy snarls, and you turn just in time to see his swing a heavy iron candlestick into the side of your head. Luckily for you, orcs have thick skulls. If you'd been any other species, you'd be dead. Instead, you drop to the floor in a daze, lights sparkling all around your head as the room spins.

You see the foxboy standing over you, then he rips off his collar and throws it down. He spits at you, then runs across the room, shoves your window open, and scrambles outside, vanishing from sight.

When the room stops spinning, you climb to your feet, your head pounding, and pick up the leash. That mangy little cur! Stupid, flea-bitten mongrel! He's going to be sorry once you get your hands on him!