Tyrian had been wanting to speak with Pestilence almost since the moment she had arrived. Yes, he wanted to see how she was liking the pack and fitting in, and blah, blah, blah. You know, the important official stuff. But more than anything else he had questions about why she'd chosen to pack up her life and move to a pack she knew absolutely nothing about except that it was Alarr's home. Apparently some part of his soul belonged to an old gossipy hen because he was hungry for that information and if his suspicions proved to be true he planned on mercilessly pestering Alarr about it.

So against every gossipy bone in his body he'd given Pestilence time to settle in and now that a respectable about of time had passed he was going to call for her and under the guise of checking up on her he was going to see how much Alarr information he could get out of her. Okay, only kind of. Tyrian was still an alpha and he did genuinely care about the well being of his pack and members, so he was interested in seeing how she was liking Fireside. And maybe she was ready for a rank. He could, he reasoned with himself, be a good, thorough alpha and a nosy brother at the same time.

After stopping at the base of a big oak tree on the southern edge of the Knolls, Tyrian barked softly for Pestilence. He wasn't quite sure where she was but he thought she was somewhere nearby.

Pestilence was still a bit confused on what it was she should be doing here, especially an unranked nobody. Livestock duty? What the hell was livestock duty? And so she stood with her paws upon the fence looking out into the sea of sheep and sighed. There was only so much feeding and brushing and caretaking she could do before it was done, and nobody ever came to try and eat or steal them so she couldn't get a good battle in either. When Tyrian called for her it was a massive relief and she was quick in reply, pushing off the fence and rushing to her King. What would he need her for? A mission? A raid? A siege? Pestilence was hungry to prove herself.

She did not slow until she was nearly right up in his face, screeching to a halt and standing before him expectantly. "I'm ready! What's up?" Behind her her monkey ran along desperately trying to catch up, in his arms the pack he always carried that contained her battle claws and bracers - just in case.

Tyrian wasn't quite sure what he had expected, but what he definitely hadn't been prepared for was the enthusiastic entrance Pestilence greeted him with. She ran at him like she was starving and he was in possession of the last meal in Boreas. He was not at all disappointed, no, rather he was just fairly certain that he himself was about to do the disappointing. All he had in store for her was a rank - maybe - and an interrogation - definitely - but now he felt a bit obligated to step up his game if she appeared disappointed with his agenda.

"You certainly are,"he said with a laugh. She'd gotten so close he could make out the detail in her eyes. Had he been so inclined she was almost within kissing distance. "I wanted to see how you're settling in and uh, perhaps if none of the higher ups have tested you yet," Hint Alarr, hint, hint. "See what kind of rank you're ready for." He had the beginnings of a plan in mind if she seemed disappointed with this. Maybe escorting one of the healers to the Gulley, guarding the flock as they were taken out of packlands to graze the Orchard or culling that ever growing coyote pack. He'd think of something.

If the reply her King gave had the potential to be disappointing it certainly did not cross Pestilence's mind. She grinned at his laughter, lavender eyes bright with excitement and anticipation. "Oh, okay!" With a dismissive paw she waved Pasketti back, sparing the monkey a glance as it collapsed atop the bulging pack exhausted. "I didn't think it'd be so soon. I mean, I know Alarr told me he got promoted really young but.. I don't know, I thought it was because he was family." That was not to say that Tyrian would give any sort of favoritism in his ranks, merely that he'd known him practically his whole life and didn't need time to learn how Alarr could benefit them. "In Ashen I was never ranked above an apprentice, I was too young." She frowned, but the expression did not last long.

After a moment she recalled his wording and spoke again with a questioning tilt of her head. "Higher ups?" Pestilence thought hard, but could not for the life of her recall any high ranked wolves in Fireside aside from Alarr and Tyrian himself. "Who are you going to have test me? I'm sure Alarr could do it... but maybe that's not the most fair since I'm his friend." Best friend, in fact, as far as Pestilence was concerned. If he'd had a better friend then her she was sure he'd have mentioned their name to her.

Tyrian shrugged, then explained, "I'm not keen on wolves staying ranked as commoners for long. It's a boring rank, you know? Flavorless. Even if I have to place you in the lowest rank of the class you choose it's better than sleeping with the sheep." The commoner rank was meant to be boring and back breaking in order to foist new wolves onto greater things. It also served to separate the chaff from the grain; who would choose the mud over advancement? Likely, someone who the perks of Fireside would be lost on. "Besides," he said with a grin, "I'm the same age as Alarr and I've been an alpha almost since my first birthday. Pups are one thing, but anyone older than that who has put the time and effort into mastering their craft deserves a rank that says as much."

"Yeah, higher ups. I'll test you since I'm here now, but anyone with a master rank certainly could have ranked you and I would have taken the rank recommendation of a guardsman, raidsman or any of the other fourth tier wolves." Pretty much all of his wolves were fighters of some kind. If Pestilence still wished to be a fighter then Tyrian would have gladly given her a rank if one of his already ranked wolves had vouched for her without testing her skill himself. But, since he was here now, why not do it himself?

He eyed her exhausted companion and then cocked his head to side eye Pestilence. A simple spar should give him an idea of her skill set. "Are you still interested in being a fighter? Or," The corners of Tyrian's mouth rose slightly. "Has sleeping with the sheep changed your mind? Lemme guess, those dumb cuddly bastards have got you thinking about being a herdsman now..."

It seemed a simple enough explanation, and Pesto was not the type to argue when a king dangled a promotion in front of her face. She was however the type to be much, much too excited about the prospect but thankfully for now she managed to keep it under control, only her slow wagging tail openly telling of her happiness. "Oh I've put time in." She explained with a laugh. Her entire life had been spent training to reach the unreachable strength she desired. Only recently had she begun winning fights, even the ones that mattered like maims and raids. Pesto knew she was ready, it was only up to her to prove it to him.

Her confidence was easy to see as he continued his explanation, and at mention of the cuddly sheep Pesto's eyes did roll. "Oh, gods please, not more sheep." The exaggerated offense was partly joke and partially true - sleeping with them did suck, though watching them absently do their thing wasn't the most boring thing in the world. "If anything my mind has been even more made up, throw me with the raiders so I can stay as far from the woolly stink as possible." She gave him a toothy grin, her body beginning to sway with excitement. Would they spar now? Oh man, she was so ready to show him what she could do.

Her response earned her a hearty laugh from Tyrian. That was exactly the kind of reaction he was hoping for; not too much complaining but a solid desire move on to better things. Better, less smelly things. "Perhaps I should have warned you in the beginning. I'm afraid the smell's going to stick with you for awhile. Could be worse, though. I'm of the opinion that goats are right up there with skunks as far as potency goes. That stink will stick with you for a season." He was only partially kidding. Goats were awfully smelly bastards. And their odor was oily and, in his opinion, the worst of all the prey species Fireside owned.

To indicate his intentions, Tyrian adopted a battle stance. He lowered his head, quirking a brow at Pestilence as he did so, widened his stance and bent his legs slightly to loosen the joints. "How about a quick spar so I can get a feel for your skill?" What he had in mind was a simple little thing. She didn't have to win or even wow him, just show him she was proficient, although certainly a high proficiency would help her in the long run. If he got the sense she deserved it, Tyrian would give her raidsman right off the bat and offer her the option of a secondary rank as well.

After a quick study of Pestilence, Tyrian leapt forward. He was going to make a couple of quick assumptions off the bat. She was a very tall woman and not a lightweight, which Tyrian took to mean - if she was as experienced as she claimed - that she would have learned to use her size to her advantage and thus be a decent grappler. So grappling was going to be one of his main focuses. He would have liked to see her against someone lighter and faster, and whose skill set would have made them more keen on using distance and speed so he could see how she fared against someone with a different fighting style, but that would have to be for another day.

Tyrian reared up on his hind legs and sought to slam his chest into the left side of Pestilence's lower neck and upper chest. Simultaneously he sought to throw his right foreleg across her shoulders in the hopes of gaining a grip. With his left foreleg he sought to reach under Pestilence and hook her right foreleg. The goal there was, after gaining a hold there, to kick backwards with the limb and hopefully yank the leg out from under her. This move combined with his chest slam would hopefully throw Pestilence over.


Tyrian versus Pestilence for Spar
Round 1 of ???
Age: 1+
Size: Extra large
Build: Heavy
Offensive Battle Accessory: Bladed forearm bracers
Defensive Battle Accessory: Polar bear cape
Companion 1: Snow Leopard, Female - Battle
Companion 2: Black-footed Langur, Male - Battle
*Companion 3: Striped Skunk, Female - Battle
Mutation 1: Retractable Claws - Offensive
Mutation 2: Saber Teeth - Offensive
Skills: Master Intellectual & Master Fighter
Specialty: Bard (n/a)

The offer to spar was one Pestilence was pleased for, she quickly turned towards her thoroughly exhausted monkey and beckoned him forward so she could equip the accessories held in his bag. Some sharpened tips for her claws and the latching of quilled bracers and she was ready to go. Pasketti on the other hand was much less ready to go, but damnit he was going to fight with her anyways.

Tyrian was fast in his attack and Pestilence grounded herself in anticipation. His chest impacted solidly with her own and she lifted her opposite limb to try and grip upon him as he did her. The clawed paws would hopefully prove an advantage to her, though she was careful with their placement so if they did touch flesh that it would not be too aggressively. While she assumed it was fine to use her equipment to her advantage, Pesto was not okay with potentially doing real harm to her new King.

His sweeping move with his left foreleg was something Pesto knew well, as Sirius had attempted it nearly every fight in their training. As soon as she felt his fur touch hers she threw herself into his weight, moving to bring her second limb up and hopefully around his neck to use the momentum throw Tyrian instead.

Pestilence Klein - Abraxas vs Tyrian for Spar
Round 1/2
Age: over 1 year
Size: Extra large
Build: Medium
Offensive Battle Accessory: Sharpened claw covers
Defensive Battle Accessory: Leather bracers
Companion 1: Red-handed howler monkey, Male - Battle
Companion 2: Saw-scaled viper, Male - Battle
Skills: Master Fighter & Expert Intellectual
Specialty: Marauder (N/A)

His claws hit air as Pestilence swept it up out of his grasp and around his neck. Good, good. Although he couldn't tell if she'd anticipated his move or gotten lucky by virtue of making her own attack, there was one thing he knew for sure: she was fast. Pestilence had succeeded in getting her arms around him in a flash. If she had made any miscalculation it was in thinking her momentum would be enough to unbalance him. He felt her shove against him, but with his greater weight and widely planted feet there wasn't much more he needed to do to thwart her attack than windmill his tail a couple times to steady himself.  

Tyrian loved a good fight and already he was getting a sense that she hadn't exaggerated her skill. Even though he couldn't put it into words there was something about those first few seconds when going hands on with someone that spoke volumes. He lifted his left foreleg and attempted to wrap it around the underside of her neck and hook it around his right forepaw, thus turning his one armed, good Christian side hug into a full on, no room for Jesus bear hug. If they were going grapple, by they were going to grapple. Tyrian slammed forward, attempting to use his greater size to muscle Pestilence to the ground.

In a real fight he would have used his saber fangs by now, but they were meant for stabbing and that was a little much for a friendly spar like this one. He had yet to work the specifics out of Alarr but he doubted his brother would be too happy with him if he accidentally stabbed his girlfriend to death.

Tyrian versus Pestilence for Spar
Round 2 of 2
Age: 1+
Size: Extra large
Build: Heavy
Offensive Battle Accessory: Bladed forearm bracers
Defensive Battle Accessory: Polar bear cape
Companion 1: Snow Leopard, Female - Battle
Companion 2: Black-footed Langur, Male - Battle
*Companion 3: Striped Skunk, Female - Battle
Mutation 1: Retractable Claws - Offensive
Mutation 2: Saber Teeth - Offensive
Skills: Master Intellectual & Master Fighter
Specialty: Bard (n/a)

Tyrian was strong, and Pestilence suddenly regretted not eyeing him up better before he had the chance to initiate. He was heavier then he looked and was using that extra weight to overpower her. When his second arm came up and over Pesto was brought into a very tight bear hug, feeling herself stumble slightly as she struggled to maintain her balance under his weight.

He was polite in not using his teeth and damnit, Pesto was determined to return the favor if only so if she did win, that he couldn't claim she'd tried harder then he had. If this was to be a bout of strength she would channel all she had, throwing her paw over in an attempt to match his hug, and begging every muscle in her body to outlast his. Her head craned forward, almost leaning on his neck as she aimed to drive more weight into the grapple. One of them was ending up on the ground and if it was her, she knew she'd never forgive herself.

Pestilence Klein - Abraxas vs Tyrian for Spar
Round 2/2
Age: over 1 year
Size: Extra large
Build: Medium
Offensive Battle Accessory: Sharpened claw covers
Defensive Battle Accessory: Leather bracers
Companion 1: Red-handed howler monkey, Male - Battle
Companion 2: Saw-scaled viper, Male - Battle
Skills: Master Fighter & Expert Intellectual
Specialty: Marauder (N/A)

And the winner is...

TYRIAN

PESTO must give up by submitting, fleeing or passing out. Totals: Adjusted rolls: 120.9 3.6 21 87.5 TYR'S total is.. 291.25 Adjusted rolls: 21.6 29.9 62 96 PESTO'S total is.. 261.88

He'd seen enough to be satisfied with her skill. Pestilence was good; quite good, in fact, and more than capable enough to skip over a 'common' rank and go straight to raidsman. "Alright, that's enough," he said as he stepped back out of both the fight and the mindset that came with it. Tyrian relaxed immediately into his usual blase stance. "You're quite good." He was very pleased to be adding Pestilence to the fighting ranks. As of late it seemed like Fireside had been getting more than enough healer types and he was ready for a change of pace. Perhaps he'd take a jaunt around the battlefield and see if he could stir up any fighters. His expression serious and thoughtful, he mused, "I don't think you're quite raider material, however." Tyrian's eyes rolled heavenward and his mouth scrunched up as though in thought. In truth he'd already made up his mind. He shot a sly glance at Pestilence. "No, I think you're a bit much for that. Raidsman, though? I think that's fitting."

She'd held out as long as she could, but in the end her muscles gave way beneath his heavier build and Pesto found herself wrestled into another loss. Fuck. He announced it over before she could be placed into too humiliating a position, but they'd both known she'd failed in overpowering the King. She fixed her stance and brushed the dirt off her leg with a paw, the hint of a frown upon her face the only sign that she was taking the loss worse than perhaps she should be. Had she won a single fight since turning up at Fireside?

The King looked thoughtful, and as he spoke of her not being deserving of the position of Raider her ears fell to her head. Crap, was it possible to be demoted below commoner? Pesto's mouth opened to argue, to challenge him to a rematch or something before he continued and her open-mouth widened into a shit-eating grin. "Oh, fuck yeah!" The excitement flooded out the disappointment, and she could hardly contain herself from jumping all over the place in glee. "I won't let you down, boss. Point me at a pack and I will kick their asses and take all their shit." Yeah, there were others involved in a raid but Tyrian already knew their prowess. Pesto could ignore them for now. Already she was reaching for the next promotion in her mind - Ashmedai was getting older, how long would it be before he'd retire and she could battle for Master of the Guard? Damn this pack was the best.