It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Grog Strongjaw, a goliath barbarian . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, you stares up at him and his many guards. Tylieri leaps up onto the ceiling and sticks to it, skittering across like a spider.
DM: He jumps up and spider-crawls across the ceiling, and then drops down. Yeah. With deft acrobatic feats, he leaps across, drops and lands right in front of you. You can see now in his face, as slovenly as it is, there is a look of deathly hunger in his eyes, and fangs bared from under his lips.
Player: That's a neat trick.
DM: He is now going to make two melee attacks against you. That's a natural 20 with the claw, and the other one's going to be a 15? I don't think it's going to hit.
Player: No.
DM: So he now has these long claws in his hand. The first one (whoosh). It catches you off guard from the sheer weird assault that he's brought to you.
Player: What's wrong with you?
DM: You take 16 points of slashing damage (whoosh) from the first arc, and he goes up with the second hand and this time you (grunt) pull out of the way. His hand manages to knock some of the bolts free that were jammed in your chest.
Player: Half the 16, right?
DM: Half of 16, correct.
Player: So, eight.
DM: Because you're raging, so eight on that one. That's his go. And he just grins at you with this hissing sound, licking his fanged lips. That ends his turn. That brings us to Grog. You're up.
