Ketchup

Alaric's ears perked and listened for Atreyu's response. He let out a low grumble, a smile forming on his maws. "Yes, good. But there's more to the muscle too." He told the spotted she wolf. "If you manage to lay a wolf on their side in combat, attacking the muscle and holding it can prevent them from moving or getting up." He paused, letting it sink in. Then, he continued. "On a darker note, the muscle is also a gate way to many vital organs and intestines. You could disembowel someone from attack the muscle as well." He stated lastly, letting it sink in. He wanted her to know every option available about the muscle. Where it was located, what it did, it's weakness, and how to use it to gain advantage on her opponents. The world was a cruel place in Alaric's eyes, unforgiving and cruel. Ruthlessness was mercy upon ourselves. To be ruthless to ones opponents meant mercy for yourself, or that's how he saw it. Yet Alaric wasn't what one would consider an honorable man. He never saw the point in honor. He only saw survival. He only saw victory.