just like a one winged duck

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..."