Ares had been getting shit done since he returned home. He felt he had a responsibility to the pack and was high time he grew up (figuratively speaking) and maybe shoot for something more than what he had. Both Saxe and Imperialis blood ran through him, after all. And what better way to show his commitment than to challenge for a higher rank? He'd been working hard since he came back, after all. And while he was out there dicking around, getting laid, fucking shit up, and irritating strangers and packs alike, he had learned a thing or two. He had gotten much better at fighting, and even thinking as a real warrior would. Sure he seemed like nothing more than an empty-headed jock, but behind his lackadaisical and jokester attitude, was a tactician with a knack for analyzing situations and a critical eye. He had learned to barter. He had learned political shit (though that was definitely one of his least favorite subjects), and above all, he had learned how to read his enemies.

Surely that would all count for something, right? Well, he supposed he wouldn't know until he found out.

Heading to the barn, he stopped in front of the doors before throwing back his head to call for Tyrian. His howl made his intentions clear. He wanted to challenge for higher rank.

A rank challenge? Tyrian loved to see it. He’d rather like to see more of it, actually. It certainly made things interesting and he had few complaints as far as interesting went. This one would hopefully set a precedent and keep everyone on their toes. It would be a nice little reminder, maybe, that ranks had to be earned and you weren’t guaranteed to keep them just because you got to them first. Or something like that. “A challenge, eh?” he asked as he sauntered onto the scene. “Do you think you have what it takes, Ares? My brother’s no slouch…” Tyrian teased. “Old, yes, but not a slouch.” He grinned. “Although, between you and me, he might be old enough it’d be hard to live a loss down…” Was that too much? Maybe. ""

Ashmedai had been holding onto the rank, waiting for some youngin to come work up through the ranks all eager. He had thought it would be Calamity, but then she went up and had a kid of her own. Ash walked up just in time to hear Tyrian calling him no slouch, but that he may be old enough to not live down a loss. "Hey now, Ares ain’t no spring chicken either," Ash grumbled, lopsided smile on his face. "If I keel on over during this fight, though… hope one of y’all’ll hold me while I die." Ashmedai shook his pelt out, "Alright, ready when you are."