An announcement concerning sensitive clan-wide plots has been released! You can view it HERE!
Check out Ivoria in Agrelos! They are an evil backboard group situated on the waterway. Successful completion of a trial is required in order to join. We have a great OOC community and would love to have you!

    His golden gaze shifts from his paws and peers up at the new arrival, a maned wolf hobbling forth on three legs. He couldn't stop his breath from hitching in his throat. The injury only reminded him... His ears swivel back against his head again, and the little confidence he tried to use to save face quickly crumbled again. "Nice to meet you, Juba..." He murmurs as he rolls his already bruised underlip between his teeth until crimson blossoms upon his tongue. His inquiry took him a bit off guard. Seeking shelter, or join? "S- Shelter." Sleepy says, slowly rising to his paws, "I, uhm... There's a place I really don't want to go back to. I'll be safe here, right?" He asks, his brows furrowing worriedly against his forehead.

    He had always thought that he would turn out better than both of his parents, that his love life would be true and full of good things only. His parents love had never been true, not for one second, and if he were to be frank, it scared him deeply that he would end up like that: sad and unloved, used to only make connections among the royal families. It was a miserable future, one that he apparently could not escape even though he was sure that he had been right in putting his love and dedication into Breakout. He found that it hurt a lot more when all of his efforts meant nothing to begin with.

    "Hello," A voice greets him, and it's such a soft voice that captures his attention. His eyes fix themselves upon the stranger that approached him from the other side of the border. He appeared to be cautious of him which... was to be expected, he supposed. He couldn't pin it against him to harbor some form of distrust. After all, he ran with a clan that had a pretty terrible reputation... twice over now. "You're at Wind Haven territory currently." He breathes, and then sighs out. "O- Oh..." A moment, he pauses, lashes dipping over amber eyes. "I see... Wind Haven." So that was what they were calling themselves now? It sounded nice... admittedly nicer than Amalfi Heights to be frank.

    His troubled silence is broken when the stranger before him speaks again, and the question obviously takes him off guard as he stares at Chasingcosmos with slightly wider eyes than before. "No, not really," He says with a sniff, but forces a smile to his lips. "I'll be fine though, no need for that." He could hear the sympathy in the kitsune's voice, could see the inquisitive and empathetic glint in his violet eyes. He shifts his stare to his paws, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "I'm... Sleepingdogs." A new start required a new name. He breathes outward, brows furrowing against his forehead. "Could I stay here awhile, please?"

    Soft amber eyes sting from the tears that had been rolling non-stop down his face. He had left the Cartel immediately after he had been unceremoniously dumped. He couldn't stand being there anymore. Just remaining there, hovering, lost, he didn't want to go through that and he sure as hell didn't deserve it. He was done with being used and then tossed away because he wasn't good enough. He was sick and tired of being someone's pet and pretending that everything going on with him was a-okay. Carrying that stigma, of being just a pretty little thing to be owned and paraded about, did horrible things for his self-esteem. Out of everyone, he would have never thought that Breakout would be one of those people to treat him like that. He thought that they'd be for forever - that they were meant to be.

    Apparently, the feelings had never been returned; it had been all lies. He had been lied to once again, and he was such a fool to believe that even for a second that he'd find any kind of true love after knowing what his parents had gone through. Never again. He left all of his things behind in the Cartel, his accessories, his perfumes, everything. Even the promise ring he used to always keep on his person.

    He hid away his birth body where no one could find it even if they tried. That was the reason why so many people seemed to only want to use him, for his body and nothing more. It was used, just as he had been. Absolutely disgusting.

    The rust colored canine pauses at the border of Wind Haven. He had been here before, briefly, but it had been way in the past before it had been called Wind Haven. The scent remains the same, however. This was where he'd start again. His name, his appearance, things would be different now. He won't be lied to ever again, and he'll kill the next person who thought that playing with his heart would be a fun game to play.

    His eyes slip close, a shaky sigh leaving him. He lowers himself to the ground, deciding to catch his breath, his shoulders quaking briefly as he brought his paw up to wipe at his watery eyes. "Everything will be okay now... E- Everything will..." He says to himself, his voice brittle. There is a few moments of quiet. The wind tugged at his coarse fur, the scent of the mountains flowing into his nose. Another shuddering sigh leaves him and he lifts his head, his ears slowly angling forward as he steels himself, finally. "H- Hello?" He winces as his voice cracks, "I... I'm a bit lost? Anyone around?"

    Oh, oh no. It was just one thing after another, wasn't it? Why couldn't he catch a break? Just when he thinks he could relax even just a little bit, the image is shattered and ruined with a raid from one of the clans he despised the most apart from the Exiles. A healthy mix of panic, anger, and frustration swirls about in the catsune's stomach, forming a hard ball of lead within it that made his teeth grit.

    He had been caught out in the open unawares, attempting to tend to his garden when he heard Petra's caterwaul. With a shaky paw, he picks up his satchel that was nearby and slings it across his shoulders before spreading his wings and taking to the skies. His chest was shuddering with each breath he took. He didn't want to fight - couldn't in the state that he was in - but he doubted that the Ruiners would even care about that. He'd help where he could, even if it was a meager attempt.

    Alcibiades seems to deflate slightly as his question was ignored in favor of speaking to the two other Cartelians that had arrived after him. What the hell was he, chopped liver? His ears swivel back, brushing slightly against his horns as he points his stare to the floor and his golden marked paws. He personally didn't really care about a hat rack or whatever it was that the Chemist had called it. It was likely that he wouldn't ever need to use it anyhow since he didn't own any hats, but he guessed some decoration would look nice in the mansion nonetheless. Alcibiades shrugs his prettied shoulders, not having one favored option over the other. "I guess what Penny suggested would look good..." Alci's gaze shifts to the right as he tentatively adds on, "Yellow doesn't really match with our interior anyways."

    Of course, Alcibiades would have been totally unaware of the Chemist's joining since he had been missing from the Cartel for months. He still had so much to learn about in his absence, though the worst thing for him to find out was that both of his children had gone. It was as if everything else wasn't already horrible enough for him, and the world just kept placing things in his lap for him to react to. It was exhausting being this upset all the time, but he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't sleep, and taking poppy seeds just to go to sleep felt wrong... especially so since the nurse division's stock was already suffering with its losses.

    Alcibiades decides to get up a little earlier than most. The first rays of light were streaming through the mansion's windows, and the alabaster and golden marked catsune, whose eyes were dull and body shook nearly constantly with fright, would be seen quietly slipping out of his room. He wanted to work out in the greenhouse to tend to the flowers he had planted all those months ago, just to keep his mind off of the thoughts that crept into his head. That had been his initial destination, at least, until he came across someone odd.

    The scene itself was odd. The walkway was messy, with tools and sawdust lying everywhere. His gaze trailed from the messiness of the walkway up to the hat stand and then its creator, who was teleporting around it and giving it a once over. Alcibiades stands there quietly for a moment, simply staring, uncertain, a pensive frown upon his weary features. "W... Who're you?" He decides to ask, his voice a subdued mumble.

    - this is supposed to take place almost right after breakout returns with alcibiades!

    He shudders. Everything felt so cold to him and he didn't understand why. He was still floating in a dreamlike state, unsure if this was reality or if he was dreaming a cruel dream. He was paranoid that he would just wake up and find himself all alone in that cell, with Val leaning over him and demanding him to expose his neck and wear that collar. To be pulled and led around like he were a pet, a thing to own and show off. The small touches, the looks he got, the menial tasks he was made to do, and more... he hated them; he despised them.

    There was only so much that the mind could handle and, to be perfectly honest, he doesn't remember a lot of what had happened to him in those three months he had been gone. The worst of what he had endured had been blocked out, buried in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind. He does not want them being pulled into the light again. He doesn't want to remember those things. He raises his paw to his throat, his paw pads feeling across the soft leather of his favorite collar. His memories, hazy, begun to grow clear, flashing past his eyes like a movie, his heart going ba-dum, ba-dum oh-so painfully in his chest.

    ( It made him want to rip his heart out. )

    He had to get rid of it. This aching in his chest would not go away until he did. With his panicked breaths becoming labored and heavy, his lungs screaming for the air that constantly fled him, Alcibiades clumsily stumbled outside. Tears burned at his eyes, his whole body quaking with the fear of remembering. With no regard, he grabs pawfuls of dirt just beyond the mansion and throws it behind him until a deep enough hole had been made. Every movement he made was sloppy, his paws shaking as he struggled to remove the collar from his neck. A harsh half-growl and half-sob left him as he decidedly tears off the accessory and throws it down into the hole. He kicks dried leaves and straw in with it to fuel the flames when they caught. He fumbles with the lighter he'd snatched up in his panicked state, his eyes alight with the flame as it appears before he drops it in.

    The dried grass and leaves catch flame. White smoke turned black as it began to burn the collar he'd thrown into it, and feels an immediate rush of relief as he sinks onto his stomach, covering his face with his paws, listening to the fire crackle and pop.

    At Clove's call, a head pokes around from the nearby corner closest to the doorway where the nurse division meeting was being held. Unmistakably, it was the recently returned Alcibiades. The acrid smell of smoke assaulted his nose, and he could only wonder what all had happened while he was missing for three months. A part of him felt guilty. If he had still been here, none of this might have happened at all. The heavy feeling in his gut would not leave him no matter how hard he tried to wish it away.

    Slowly but surely, the catsune would move forward towards the doorway. His steps were hesitant, his dull gaze directed towards the ground to avoid the stares of everyone else, and he wordlessly slips past Clove and into the infirmary. He lifts his head slightly, peeking out from under thick white lashes to examine the burned room. He winces. It looked absolutely terrible. He glanced back towards Ghoulian and Clove for a brief moment, his expression apologetic and sad.

    - tw for suggestions of sexual abuse

    "What do you mean, no? You're Val's bitch, aren't you?"

    Alcibiades' bottom lip quivered where he sat crouched against the ground, his ears swiveled back and pressing against his horns. His entire body trembled but he stood his ground, defiantly staring into the eyes of the NPC. He swallows thickly, fearful tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, threatening to roll, but he stubbornly does not let them fall. "I-" He breathes, daring himself to stand taller, "I'm owned by no one! I won't be hurt by you or any your other scummy friends."

    The fiend clearly didn't like his impassioned response. His lips curled back, exposing sharp canine teeth as a baleful snarl tore from his throat as he lashes outward to strike him across the face with the back of his paw. A cry of surprise leaves the weak catsune as he hits the ground, his cheek burning from the impact of the slap. A soft sob left the prisoner, his shoulders quaking with renewed fear. Perhaps he shouldn't have spoken up. Maybe he should've done what the NPC wanted him to, and maybe he could have gotten this all done quicker and be back in his cell. "That'll teach you." The dog spat at him, pressing a paw down against his shoulders to keep him pinned to the ground. He leans over him, leering spitefully, his ugly muzzle too close to his ears. "But now my mood's all soured up thanks to you. How about we do something else instead, eh? It won't be fun for you, but it will be for me to put a bitch like you in their place." The NPC's eyes glimmered with malicious intent as a sharp, barking laugh left him, lifting his other paw to strike him again.

    All Alcibiades could do was cower. Cower and hope that it'd be over soon. Obviously, Val wouldn't be happy that someone harmed his merchandise, but the panther was not around to stop all of this from going to shit. To be frank, he'd rather endure whatever this guy was going to give to him rather than what Valentino could possibly do to him. He waits for the first blow to land, achingly waiting for pain, but it doesn't come.

    Suddenly, all of the weight is lifted off of him, air whooshing past him as the NPC is suddenly shoved off of him by some invisible force. Alcibiades scrambles to his paws the first chance he gets and backs up, his sides heaving with panic as the NPC's body is pinned to the ground. The mutt was howling in pain and all Alci did was stare as karma was swiftly dished out to the asshole who put him into this vulnerable position, watching as blood flowed freely from the gnarly wounds on his face. The whole thing was over in the blink of an eye it seemed. Where he thought he could breathe out in relief, his heart is once again seized as a familiar voice uttered his nickname. A figure materialized before him and his eyes widened in shock.

    Was he dreaming? Was he actually dead, or unconscious? He couldn't find the ability to speak, his voice faltering and dying in his throat. He simply stumbled forward, a warmth touching upon his face. He doesn't realize they are tears until his vision gets blurry, a louder sob leaving him. So many emotions crashed into him at once. Relief, because he knew he was going to get out of here. Anger, because it'd taken Breakout so long for him to get here. Horror, because he laid here weaker than he's ever been and so, so much more. His relief was what overpowered and drowned out the others, his weak legs shaking as they struggled to carry him to Breakout. They'd give out on him as he trips, his face landing in Breakout's furry chest, where he cried.

    Alcibiades had lost count of the days that had passed since he had been captured and brought to that horrible place. When the days blurred into weeks, he decided that it didn't matter how many days passed. He had been forgotten, and no one cared enough to come find him. That was what his mind had drawn a conclusion to when he'd realized he'd spent about three months in the Exiles, forced to do petty slave work and look pretty for Val.

    No physical injuries adorned the catsune upon Breakout finding him, but the look in his eyes and the absolute deadness of his gaze seemed to say it all. He had nothing, felt nothing, his will in shambles and more. He had drawn back into the recesses of his own mind, to watch everything play out like a movie in front of his very eyes, a stranger to the life he had more or less given into now. Nothing but a slave, a pretty little trophy to keep clean for others to gawk at and occasionally use.

    His paws shuffle against the ground, every step he took heavier than the other. Tired, puffy red eyes stare emptily ahead. Alcibiades seemed more dead than alive at that point, and he had no broken bones or torn skin. He stops when Breakout stops, pressing himself almost desperately into the hellhound's fur as others arrive to look at him. To gawk. To point, examine -- he felt uncomfortable under their gazes, and shrunk away from even Clove when she arrived.

    His eyes flick over Batterychicken and even if he wanted to respond to them, he couldn't. He hadn't spoken a word since he realized he'd stayed a month there. Asimov answered for him, though his eyes narrowed at the words he chose. Used to live here. He didn't have a goddamned choice. It wasn't like he chose to leave! "S- Staying..." The first words that crawled from his mouth were rough from disuse. He swallows hard, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as the reality of it all finally set on his shoulders. He was back home. Home with his boyfriend and their children - oh, his children. Where were they? Batterychicken had spoken about Azalea. Where was his precious girl?

    He had the misfortune of not knowing that two of his children had gone to join the clan that had imprisoned and enslaved him. His heart would break upon learning such knowledge, certainly.

    A place undisturbed. The sinister chuckle sends an shudder of distaste down his spine, his eyes narrowing in blatant distrust. There was only so much that he could tolerate, his mind snapping back in time to how Leviathan had handled him in the Cartel's takeover. Val's tone was much too similar to that slimy bastard and he hated it. "I'm certain there will be someone down there..." He hoped, at least, but even if someone was down there, what was the likelihood that they'd stand up for him? A majority of the Exiles were pitiless. There were a few clean souls around here, people who have yet to dirty their paws with the blood of innocents, but their kind hearts were squashed by people like Val. His hopes are dashed the moment the words leave his lips, his rose colored eyes watching the panther warily.

    He is able to breathe somewhat when the other turns away from him, however brief it was. His wings shifted uneasily upon his back as he went straight to his collection of collars and leashes. He used to adore them as an accessory, and now he could only regard them with fear. He didn't want to be led around on a leash, the action of portraying himself in a submissive stature was plenty humiliating to him; the addition of a leash crushed his fragile self-esteem.

    He tilts his head from the leash to Val, swallowing thickly. "I've been obedient and good for a while... Are the leashes still necessary?" He asks through a shaky breath, "I promise I won't try to run away. I'll stay by your side... I just don't want that." He felt it was a fair request. He's done all of his chores without fail, and he's only sassed off to Corrupttimelines and the others only once since his arrival. He'd been good."No more leashes, please..."

    Alcibiades had wondered where his "benevolent master" had gone off to. He hadn't seen him that day, and that gave him the ability to do as he pleased ( at least while under the supervision of the Exile guards ). He certainly hadn't missed his mug, and personally hoped he might have been picked off and killed by one of the Exiles' many made enemies, but he was rather unlucky, wasn't he?

    Upon smelling the brute's smell upon the air in combination with blood, Alcibiades nearly rolled his eyes into the back of his head. Dammit. He thinks bitterly as he approaches the scene, wispy alabaster fur blowing faintly in the subtle breeze that carried his scent. He's visibly cold as he addresses the Exilers present with rose colored oculars, his eyes finally settling on Val and Viper. He was likely expected to help, being a slave and all, and so the catsune slips closer to his captor and presses his paws into the dirt. Magical light sprouted from underneath his paws, and herbs began to grow from beneath them. He steps back, and what is revealed is simply marigold and poppy plants.

    "I've grown the herbs. I'll leave the healing to your actual medics. Is there anything I can do, master?" Regretfully he is assisting them. He doesn't want to, but he also doesn't want to be beaten for his incompetence.

    The slave's ears flicked backwards just slightly as that chortle rolled off of his captor's tongue. He had to suppress the urge to reach into his mouth and yank out his tongue with everything he could muster. It was infuriating being watched in such a predatory fashion, his mind flashing back to how Leviathan had taken to him the day the Exiles had taken over the Cartel. It was a truly disturbing feeling, one he wanted to be rid of as soon as possible. He missed his children and his boyfriend; all he wanted was to go back to them and be in their loving embrace - but he was stuck here with an abhorrent man instead. His practiced smile wavers slightly as Val spoke, his brows wanting to draw and furrow together. He was talking about bathing him as if he were just a trophy, or a pet to just be taken care of.

    He flinches away notably when Val raised his paw to touch his cheek, a sharp breath exhaled from between his clenched jaw. His whole body tensed up. It was moreso out of restraint for himself to not lash out rather than being afraid ( or at least that was what he told himself ). He didn't want to squander his chances of getting out by getting himself hurt and so he reluctantly allowed for Val to brush his paw against his face. "O- Of course..." He responds quietly, his ears pinning themselves against his horns. "I don't think I've seen a bath-house here in the prison... Do I have to bathe outside?" God, what he wouldn't do for some sunlight for once. In addition to perhaps being able to go outside, he could at least be able to figure out a good way to go when he inevitably found a way to get out of the prison.

    He has been stuck here for little over a week now. His simmering feelings of disgust and hatred of the Exiles have only grown since his imprisonment and subsequent slavery. He doesn't blame the Cartel for not coming to rescue him, especially since they have been struggling with the Sanguine Ruins after one of their own had murdered one of their leaders. He could not be impatient with them. He was on his own. He would have to escape on his own, and his ideas as to how have been broiling within his head. He eyed up every exit he came across when he could, formulating a plan in his mind whilst he was within Val's line of sight, playing the part of an obedient slave.

    "Master," The word is sickly sweet when it rolls off of his tongue, so much bitterness held behind in his voice as the elegant hybrid approaches the Exiler who had taken him captive. He hates it, he hates that word. Its meanings and connotations made his stomach churn with discomfort. Rose tinted eyes dashed gold would lift up to the other's face, peering up at him through pale lashes. "I've finished with my chores." Cleaning, making and catching food, everything else that was beneath him was something he's been tasked to do every single day. His fur was a bit dirty from his most recent cleaning, such an icky, grimy feeling making his skin crawl with revulsion. "Is there anything else you'd like for me to do?"

    Big Valentino

    A pimp. He had gotten so lucky being snatched up this time, hadn't he? He is disgusted by the implications, the way the other stares at him and licks his lips hungrily. Like hell he would stay around long enough to be forced into that kind of work. It seemed like the Exiles had fell further and further into the disgusting hole that they've dug themselves into, downgrading themselves into sex traffickers. And to think he had once believed that they could have done some actual good. He had been ignorant back then. He tries to shrug off the comment, let it roll off of his back like water, but the words kept echoing in his head.

    He pauses as a child enters the scene, and he casts the girl a sympathetic look. Having to experience this at a young age was harrowing and, thankfully, she seemed thoroughly confused at her roguemates' behavior. How unfortunate that she would be raised to be just like them. Depraved monsters who cared naught for anyone but themselves. His gaze lifts from the child to Corrupttimelines, who he fixes with a hellish glare full of disgust and hatred.

    Cory was a pitiful man, a baby in an adult's body who threw a temper tantrum when he couldn't get his way. He couldn't have expected to get a partnership with the Cartel when their kind did shit like this. He couldn't hold his tongue as he snaps, velvety voice false and as he posed a seemingly innocuous inquiry, jutting his chin out. "Ain't it bad lying to children?" His tails give a short lash, cold murder screaming in his eyes as the child from earlier spoke out. Good grief, even the child had more sense than her fully grown counterparts. He disgusted by the way Cory tried to justify this.

    This was embarrassing, utterly unbecoming of someone with royal blood pumping through his veins. He hated this, hated this, hated this. Of course the person behind his abduction had been an Exiler of all people; could he not have been kidnapped by someone from a new or different place? He already despised this canyon and its people enough as it was and it brought back horrible, bitter memories of when he had been a high ranking member of these psychopaths. Moreover, he wasn't in for the usual capture or even a torture session, it was something he thought was far worse. He was being made into a slave, dragged back here for the pretty looks he had been blessed ( or perhaps cursed? ) with upon birth.

    The ivory and golden marked catsune grit his teeth was he was tugged along on the leash, his wings tightly hugging his side. He glared down at the flashy collar that sat upon his neck, gritting his teeth in irritation. He wanted the thing off as soon as possible, he wanted to rip it up with his claws and throw it back into this pervert's face. He would never be owned or allow himself to be treated like some thing. He wasn't a pet. He wasn't, he wasn't, he wasn't...

    Alci's lips curled slightly when his captor began to speak, his ears flicking back warily. He wanted to show him off? A deep pit of disgust made his stomach curdle and curl into itself, but he says nothing. He stares at Val hard, rose tinted eyes dashed golden aflame. There was defiance clear in his eyes, but Alcibiades was not an idiot. As much as it hurt his pride, he'd need to stand down and figure something out. He would have to play his role, be a good little pet until he found a way to get out of the prison. It left such a bad, disgusting taste in his mouth. "You're lucky you picked yourself up a host, sir~" He says in his velvety voice, sweet and saccharine, plastic smile shifting onto his prettied features.

    He was tugged along to the table, a quiet wince leaving him as he was instructed to get onto the table. The briefest of moments passed before he hopped onto the table, golden painted nails clicking on the table's surface. The catsune pushed out a quiet sigh as he flicked his gaze to the panther briefly before he turned and raised his head to show off his impressive crown of horns, his nine tails wavering behind him as he lifted his beautiful wings. His elegant golden markings seemed to shimmer right along with his alabaster fur in its impeccably clean state, his delicate figure exposed to the eyes of the Exiles for their disturbing viewing pleasure. How degrading.

    It was pure misfortune that he had gotten sick soon after giving birth to his second litter. And in addition the strain put unto his body after the birth, Alcibiades had decided to give his secondary body a well deserved break after so long. However, it seemed like he had picked a rather poor time to switch bodies. He figured it would be fine to repossess his birth body so long as he stuck by the Cartel's mansion. Nowadays he grew a bit more cautious whilst he spent time in his catsune body instead of parading around in it as if it were something to show off. His birth body was everything to him, so well taken care of and absolutely precious. Furthermore, it was the only thing connecting him to his estranged family, those of whom he hasn't heard from in ages.

    Perhaps his preoccupied thoughts had been his downfall whilst he had been out that day. Maybe it was the fact that he was tired— it would make sense, seeing as he had young ones to constantly look over and make sure they were all safe and sound. His job was doing a fine job of running him into the ground, leaving him with little sleep; there were many factors that could've gone into this. But who would have thought that he would allow himself to be abducted?

    Oh yes, it had happened much too quickly for him to properly fight back. He was in a far smaller body now, the immense height advantage he had over others whilst he was in possession of his hellhound body gone as he was grappled. He flared out his wings in an clumsy attempt to get away, but it was all for naught. He couldn't reach his mysterious assailant with his snapping jaws and claws as he was promptly thrown down. His skull hit the ground and he was out like a light, the whole struggle lasting for less than a minute. And then, he was gone, taken by their common enemy, and yet nothing but his feathers and the smell of strawberries hung in the air. No scent, no clear clues to tell who might have taken him— but one thing was clear: Alcibiades had been forcibly removed from the Cartel's territory.

    It was soon after he had been sent for did the Capo arrive on scene. Simmering golden marked paws kiss the ground upon landing, two pairs of wings painted ash and gold folding neatly against his side. Within his mouth does he hold a satchel obviously full of quite a few things, namely the medicinal supplies and books Geralt had asked for. The nine-tailed vulpine-like creature moves forth through the group to stand beside Breakout, brushing against his boyfriend's leg as he went. "Here you are, hun," Velvety smooth vocals are warm and amicable as he formally addresses the Thunderlander, a soft smile curling upon his lips. He settles the satchel at Geralt's paws, his tails moving and wavering in unison behind his lithe frame. "I've packed serval poultices in here, bandages, tourniquets, things of that nature as you asked. In addition, I've also put in medical books of varying degrees of difficulty in there. I hope this will be enough?" Alcibiades would say, inclining his head to the side as he stepped back to Breakout's side, leaning up idly against his leg. "I would also like to extend my services to the Thunderlands if you need it. I'd be more than happy to teach your apprentices."