On the banks of a great river, you see warriors, painted and wearing furs and leather, fighting viciously. As you watch closer, you realize that their weapons are blunt and made of wood, and that "killed" warriors are simply walking off of the battlefield, rubbing a bruise or two. Your pulse pounds as two of the tribesmen engage in a duel with spears, a savage dance of death. As their wooden weapons slam together time and time again, you realize you are not alone.
"Not bad," a voice in your mind says. Getting far more used to this than you feel comfortable with, you glance over and see a strangely calm wolverine laying in the shadows, watching the training clansmen. "Perhaps I can convince a couple of them to show you something. If they ever stop fighting, that is."
"Take a tip from a wise old predator," says the Wolverine, "Don't mess with dwarves if you don't have to."
"Rarely have I seen a more dangerous game," the Wolverine advises.
