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We're in a Silver Hand hideout, and I'm sneaking up on three of them, who are currently gathered around a table discussing their plans. If I can hit them when they're lined up just right, I ought to be able to freeze all three of them with an Ice Shout, and we can pick them off at our leisure. But I've got to be positioned just so. I inch forward, silently, stealthily, and start to draw in my breath to Shout...
...And Vilkas charges past me, waving his two-handed sword and shouting, "Skyrim belongs to the Nords!" The Silver Hands scatter, and my Shout only catches one of them, leaving us two big angry werewolf hunters to deal with.
"Sweet Mother," I mutter under my breath. "And this is supposed to be the smart twin?"