You're comfortable where you are at and, judging from the expression of the farthest creature, you don't think this tiny woman is incapable of defending herself. In fact, she seems rather confident, and is that a fireball in her hand? There's some conversation you can't follow partly due to language, but more due to the deep gravel voice followed by shrieks of a high pitched one. The little woman is angry. The ogre like creature behind her has had enough and the club comes swinging down. You flinch, anticipating the crunch of flesh and bones but hear a pop instead. There's no bloody pulp of a mess when you open your eyes again and the ogre is cursing as he throws his club angrily on the ground. The one the woman was screaming at is up and searching the brush; you need to move. It's too late. You turn and stand facing straight into the chest of one of these ogre type creatures. It grins, revealing a mouth full of yellow ragged teeth, and brings his own thick club down over your head.

Ouch.