Iylldrraen watched as Garamon entered the challenger's ring conveniently in the middle of the camp. Apparently word traveled quickly, for all of the members of the pack, at least forty visible, were circled around the ring. Garamon strode forward without a trace of arrogance or confidence, but complete neutrality. He took the opposite side furthest from where he'd just entered, offering Iylldrraen the immediate advantage since he had to walk furthest and, should Iylldrraen choose, he could attack while Garamon's back was turned.<br/><br/>Iylldrraen knew better, though, thousands of years of combat experience disciplining the feral druid, knowing that that kind of despicable tactic was what Garamon baited Iylldrraen with, knowing he wouldn't sacrifice his honor for a temporary advantage. No, Iylldrraen walked with his lover right to the edge of the ring, stopped, turned to kiss her softly on the cheek, then stripped of his clothing. Before entering the ring he shifted, becoming that behemoth bear that Aelena was so familiar with. His shoulder, while he stood on all-fours, rose to Aelena's shoulder, a good five feet; standing bipedal he towered at ten feet. To any inexperienced onlookers, it would seem that Iylldrraen held the advantage, but the feral druid knew that he would lack the speed that Garamon possessed. He understood the limitations all too well, but also understood that he only needed to get one good jaw lock on Garamon and this fight would be over, though he would have to exercise extreme caution not to break the worgen's skin.<br/><br/>In most cases of challenges, they are to the death simply because the opponents forget about honor and decide that the best way to defeat a rival is to kill them; Iylldrraen did not sense that animosity from Garamon, so he decided that he would afford him the same respect, withholding killing blows unless necessary. Iylldrraen strode into the ring, taking his side opposite Garamon. They gazed upon each other stoically, realizing that this wasn't personal, but necessary, “just business” as humans were fond of saying. As custom would dictate, Garamon tilted his head back and a thunderous, regal howl erupted from his chest and out of his throat, filling the night with praise to Goldrinn. Garamon then looked to Iylldrraen, who rose high off the ground to his full height, tilting his head partway back, a deafening roar bellowing from the feral druid, curdling blood and blasting nearby low-hanging branches, resounding for several moments even after Iylldrraen lowered himself to all fours again. His golden eyes immediately locked with Garamon's, and he was glad, for he saw something he didn't think the powerful worgen possessed: fear. It lasted for only two or three seconds, but it was there. Iylldrraen was bolstered, not because he believed that he could easily defeat Garamon, but because Garamon now believed that he could not so easily defeat Iylldrraen.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>