A zombie giant tiger was not something I had prepared for. I was approaching a bandit camp, and should have known better, but didn't quite connect the smell of death with it. My elvish guide had been pretty badass up to now, getting all the kills while I toyed around wrestling. Her iron spear didn't serve her for long, and as an elf she had probably had no experience fighting any animals, and it pawed her head off half a minute after she congratulated herself for getting better at fighting.
My best weapon skill was high master swordsman, but an iron shortsword still couldn't make any progress against it. Fortunately I had a masterwork silver pike that I snatched away from warlord, literally, but I'd only used it against him. I had to learn to use it quickly, because I'd been taking sleep in 3-hour doses and wasn't sure how long before drowsy again. I felt like a matador, dodging around it and poking at it until I finally broke off one of it's legs. It switched to grabbing, but it wasn't as good at that as I was at dodging, and I could at least get some breather distance every time I got Tired.
I didn't have to learn that much pike; enough skull stabbings and I got one lucky shot in the eye to take him down. This necro-bandit is pretty brilliant; zombies are already marathon battles, and small army of these are enough to wreck any settlement short of a fortress.