One man's trash

Today was the day they would hopefully be rid of this wretched curse. One thing Pyrrhic had neglected to mention to the young sabertooth was that he was getting, shall we say, damaged goods. The mutated slave, while intriguing, was nothing but trouble and Pyrrhic could see no better use for him than to pawn him off on a potential rival. He'd never met Tyrian before the day they'd talked about Erystotle and while the name 'Legion' was familiar, the name 'Fireside' was not, but in Pyrrhic's mind everyone who wasn't a ally was at the very least a rival.

Once his brother and the buyer came into view Pyrrhic paused to assess the scene. He then yanked on Erystotle's rope and confidently strode forward. With the rope still clenched between his teeth he dipped his head to both wolves in turn and said, "Eligoss. Tyrian, I'm glad you came. I ssaid you wouldn't be dissappointed and I sstand by that sstatement." He then motioned to Erystotle as if to say 'well, here he is.' Feast your eyes, and all that. And for the love of god take him away.