So... his weekly task had been to teach a class on any subject he sought fitting. Well, he supposed he should get right on that. An idea had come to mind and so, after shortly receiving his task, the pale green doberman had sauntered off somewhere to prepare himself. He'd stopped by his room, rummaging through a couple of his own things until he found a familiar backpack. He hadn't touched it since he had joined the Sanctuary - there hadn't been a need to all this time, since he had severely cut back on adventuring through the wildest of places for a long, long time. The worn black leather backpack that had all kinds of pins and such from Earth secured to it was covered with a thin layer of dust from its disuse. After wiping it off with a cloth, Val picks up the thing by its straps and takes it outside.
Val finds himself a spot within their home to go about this "class" of his, which he decided it would be a class on how to survive the toughest wilderness out there. The deputy drops his things on the ground before sitting next to it, opening it up to search through its contents. After he's made sure everything is where it should be, Val leans back and dotes on the words he would choose. "Hey, so I got a question. Does anyone know how to survive on their own? You probably do - I mean, it's your survival instinct, right?" A worn smile is brought to the canine's face at the play on words, continuing on before he started laughing at his own horrible pun, "But, really, surviving in harsh climates is arguably the most dangerous thing ever, especially when the odds are stacked against you. You guys are lucky you got someone like me, whose very namesake is what I'm teaching you all today, to teach you all about the art of survival." Quite an introduction, wasn't it? Oof... he already felt exhausted. Was it too late to go back home? ...Probably so.