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Thou pulleth out thine sword and move forward, crying out with a mighty yell, "Thou shalt falleth undereth mine swordeth!" Thine insults needeth work, verily. Nevertheless, thou hast inspired fear into yon lesser wolves. They doth scattereth, leaving thee to battle the headmost wolf. As ye moveth to smite the wolf, yon wolf doth standeth up on two legs. With a snarl, it doth leapeth straight up in the air, leaving thine sword no mark to hit as it cutteth through the air. As thou pondereth whence yonder wolf doth learneth such trickseth, yon wolf doth landeth upon thine back, tearing mightily with fang and claw. Good thing thou still hast thine armor on, else thou wouldst no doubt be wolf meat right now. Ye shouteth a few epithets about canines in general and spinneth around quickly, knockingeth both of ye on thine respective fannies. Ye sitteth in thine positions for a moment, staringeth at one another with a strong lack of affection. Then yon wolf begins to laugheth as it getteths up. Ye wondereth why this is. Then ye realizeth that ye canst not get up with the weight of the armor. At least ye still hath thine sword. Ye thinkseth. This suckseth.

Unconfirmed