She moved with a rope slung around her neck. The giant before her having owned her now for a while. Useless, he called her. The rope was tight and she had to practically trot to keep from having it choke her every step of the way. The light of the dawn had her pelt warming in the colder land, not that she minded or was even allowed to care. The moment the male in front holding her rope stopped she tilted her head. She was aware they had further to go. He'd said so. But he'd also been complaining that she was reeking, not like she could smell and he knew this. Something was up though. Her brain was working it out. He seemed angry. It was never a good thing when Fin was angry. Her ears pressed and then she was yanked forward. Shit. She was about to start begging for forgiveness but he was quicker, grabbing her and tossing her. Right over a branch, and then she was dangling. Her eyes wide. Paw coming up and trying to put space between the rope and her neck. The sound of him laughing as he tied the rope and then retreating bringing tears to her eyes. She was fresh two and now she was going to die? Fuck her luck. She was gasping for breath, doing her best to try to touch the ground or get the rope to loosen. What had she done to deserve it? "Speech"

The Warlord avoided the woods for the most part. He had discarded the land once the blight had claimed it. But he kept an eye, ensuring it wouldn’t cause him further use. As the days turned to months, the traces of the blight seemed to vanish. It had left its mark in dead woods, and a thinning of prey, but its initial onslaught was long gone.

He found himself today stepping through the twisting trees before he caught the scent of others. He followed the trace of it, and found… an unexpected sight. A tiny creature that resembled a fox at a glance, but scented of wolf. But that wasn’t the strange part. She dangled, struggling, from a tree branch. Held by a noose around her neck.

He approached, sniffing the air curiously, studying the stranger. She was a well torn creature, scars lingered across her scrawny body. She didn’t look like she would be worth much. Deadweight if he brought her home. There was also Yara’s absence to consider. The former slave had up and left them, and there was a lot of work to do in the den with all their growing pups. This wolf.. that leg did not look as if it would allow her to move quickly. Much harder for her to slip away…

Decided, but not fully convinced, he stepped towards her. Her neck was an easy thing for the behemoth to reach. He glanced at her bulging eyes for a moment, and then used a cat-like claw to snap the rope. She collapsed helplessly at his paws. He stood there a moment, listening to her desperately drawing in air. “Rise.” he ordered her, curious to see how mallabale she was despite her condition.


"Basilisk Fatalis"

She was unable to hear Fin anymore, her struggle in vain against the rope. She couldn't figure how long she hung there. Her body struggling to get her out of the situation. She was about to give up, let it happen when the sound of another came to her ears. Damn she hoped Fin or whoever it was would just either kill her outright or let her down. She hated Fin with a passion, this was low even for him. Her eyes bulging but desperately searching caught sight of a massive brute. Fuck. That wasn't Fin. Hopefully he wouldn't leave her hanging here though. He stood there and it felt like eternity. Her struggles had ceased, paw on the rope but unable to slip inside it. Then finally he was cutting it lose. She fell like a ragdoll, her breath gasping and coughs coming from her. Damn that Fin. Then there was an order to her given by the brute. Purple eye shifting back to him, before she took the moment and while still breathing heavily sitting up and shaking her pelt from the previous fear. No now she was left behind with someone she had no idea about. Eyes shifting to the right and avoiding his eyes now. Then soft vocals given to him "Thanks, ummm?" The tone thankful but still defeated and meek. Ears folded as she found her feet. "Speech"

Basilisk watched the struggling wolf silently for a moment. With two new territories, the Armada had a lot of work ahead of them. Had it been a foolish move to free this damaged, tiny wolf? He shook his head, undecided. “You can call me Warlord.” he told her as she struggled to her paws.

His muzzle set into a thin line as he surveyed her. He wanted her to prove she was not worthless to him, but in her current state she would take forever to return to the Armada with him. After a moment of deliberating, he nodded his companion forward. The reindeer trotted into position beside her, standing steady and still at her side. He grabbed her by the scruff and pulled her upwards, depositing her on the deer's back. She weighed so little, it wasn’t a difficult feat to move her.

He held her in place with his muzzle, and they walked. Heading to the Armada, and straight to the Col. First order of business would be having Oleander check her out. If he deemed her fit for duties, she would start her work in his den. He sent Larimar ahead to fetch him.

"Basilisk Fatalis"

It took her a few moments to catch her breath. He gave her something to call him in that time and she nodded. Whatever kind of title Warlord was she wasn't sure. The coughing and wheezing subsiding but no sooner than it did she was being man handled. He deposited her on the reindeer she hadn't even noticed before but she had heard it the moment it started to move. Her eyes widened and she gave a surprised gasp. He was massive so she had no chance to even fight back, not that she did. No she was smarter than that. Her chocolate dipped ears folded. Guess it was from one hell to another.... She couldn't catch a break could she? He seemed to be a man of few words at least. She could appreciate that. Hopefully it would be orders and silence then. She glanced to where they seemed to be heading. Least there was no rope for now. She hated being leashed like some dog and having to try to keep up or be choked so much. A glance down at the reindeer, the ride was nice compared to that at least. Though she felt like she might be an annoyance to the beast. "I can walk Master Warlord...." ears folding to the sides. She barely whispered it but she was used to speak and get your shit knocked loose. Fin had been the most violent master but she guessed her use to him had been outlived. He could of at least sold her if he was done with her.... he hadn't needed to try to leave her as a corpse hanging in a tree in some foreign land she didn't know. Now it seemed this man had some kind of idea of use for her. She didn't hand her name to him, used to a policy where they got to decide what to call her. For Fin it had been stupid, for others she had been through a plethora, you there, hey bitch just a few among them. A wonder at what this man would deem her to be called. She'd seen the man sent his other servants forward and she had to wonder why. Questions on her mind that she wouldn't ask. Dared not speak anymore unless spoken to. It was the best survival tactic she had learned. "Speech"

He snorted, mildly amused both at the title she gave him, and her offer. She was a little taller now that she was aboard the Reindeer, but not by much. He studied her as they walked, noting the purple in her eyes that had been difficult to discern when she had been struggling to breath. He had already noted the pattern of scars across her coat, but now he would see the band of gold around one arm. Not too dissimilar from the wedding band tattooed across his foreleg.


“I'll not be slowed down.” He warned her, giving her no chance to dismount. They weren't far from Oleander's healing den now. “You can call me Master Basilisk, or Warlord. Don't mix the two.” It wasn't really a suggestion. “You were a slave?” Her body and how he had found her certainly indicated it.

He snorted at her words and she looked down at her paws. Of course he wasn't gonna let her walk. Likely scared his new slave would run the first chance she got. Well she would be the one to surprise him then if that was the case. She had known nothing else but being the property of others in her life, so she wouldn't make it a day on her own. She wasn't that stupid. Unlearned but not stupid. His words only confirmed it and she gave up the thought then, shifting herself so she was hopefully more comfortable to carry for the beast, but not daring to dismount it. The man keeping her here was over three times her size and from the look of him he could easily dispatch her. Not that anyone would miss her. His words of what to call him were received with a stiff nod of acceptance. So Master Warlord or Warlord Basilisk was unacceptable, noted then. His question had her eyes on the ground once more and another nod. "Yes Warlord I am..." he'd invited her to speak with the question, but she only gave the answer to it, not intent on getting on his bad side already. She made it clear she was also aware she hadn't been released from her bonds. "Speech"

By her own admission, she was already broken in. That saved him some effort. They reached Oleander's den, but there was no sign of the healer yet. It wasn't uncommon for him to take house calls. If he was out, he'd be back soon. Meanwhile, he stepped into the den. His new slave aboard his deer easily fit through an entrance built to allow wolves of his own stature entry.


The clomping of hooves echoed through the caverl as they stopped before one of the beds set out in the main antichamber. He grabbed her by the scruff once more, and without warning before depositing her on the bed. “My healer will check you over when he returns. Meanwhile, there are a few things you should know.” He told her, making up for his silence during the journey to the pack. “You now belong to the Armada. You will be sleeping in a side room to the den occupied by myself, my wife, and our children. You will see to any of their needs, but your primary objective is to answer to me. With me so far?” His voice was brisk, commanding, and gave no room for arguments. Not that he expected any from her. “I assume by the way I found you that I don't need to look over my shoulder for your previous master. Sounds about right?” She belonged to the Armada now. If anyone came knocking for her, he'd deal with them.

She didn't expect a lot. She hadn't even known when they crossed a border. Her nose having very little if any scent receptors left to it was sometimes a blessing and sometimes a curse. Her eyes cast to the large den when they approached though, a blink given. He lived in caves? Did he know he could craft homes? Huts with firepits inside? It wasn't her place to ask though. She lifted her mangled leg and crossed it across her body, grasping her own shoulder. There was an uncertainty with this place but she had little choice. The change of lighting had her blinking a few times, trying her best to adjust to it as quickly as possible. Then he was manhandling her once more, this time though she was more prepared, giving him no fight and even curling like a pup for his easy of carrying her. Though the plopping on the bed uncerimoniously had her releasing a breath with a small oof. Then without waiting he started in explaining her new role and who she belonged to. The sleeping arrangement was explained as well. She cast her eyes to the floor, one ear pressed back and the other towards his voice to show she was listening, regardless of where her eyes fell. A healer to check her over? That was a first. She'd never had a doctor look her over. Paw grasped at her shoulder again to cover her nerves again. What if they found something wrong with her other than what she already knew? She gave him a nod though when he asked if she was with him so far. She understood plenty. He was her main master but he had a family and she was to care for them unless he had a different order for her. his next statement had her eyes shifting to him for a second before dropping to the ground before his paws. "Yes, Warlord..." Should she tell him before his doctor examined her? She was used to being sold and her masters being handed her ownership papers as well as being told everything they needed to know. "Speech"

He studied her a few more moments and then shook his head, turning away. They had the healers den to themselves for the moment. No one was critical enough to warrant staying here. He contemplated leaving her there for Oleander to find, but he didn't know her well enough. He couldn't risk her poking through the critical supplies that could be found here. 


He yawned, standing around was catching up to him. He was usually on the move too much to feel the exhaustion that would otherwise seep through his bones. He turned back to the slave, a frown on his maw. So far, her answers had been short, revealing little about herself. “How many masters have you had? What duties have you performed? Do you have any skills?” He grilled her, killing the time until Oleander turned up.

He became quiet again and she sat there a bundle of nerves. Would he discard her like Fin had done if something was found to be wrong with her that he disliked? Did she actually stink? Fin had been adamant that she reeked. The downfall of being nose blind, you couldn't actually confirm or deny scents. Then he started speaking more. The Warlord asked about her and she folded her ears back. He was asking a lot really fast.... and all of it information that she didn't know if she wanted to give. Though she also didn't want the pain that normally came with not answering. Best bet was to answer him and let him know some stuff. "Three previous.... I've cleaned, scrubbed floors, been a punching bag, been anything my masters told me I was..... And I can cook, clean, and I stitched my own wounds before...." she looked toward her newest master and squeezed she shoulder a little. She probably should tell him. "My first master made sure I couldn't run.... my second.... she ensured i wouldn't go sniffing after anything she didn't want me to." There it was. Cat was out of the bag. "Speech"

This pesky sliver was no match for him. At least that's what he told the tiny Selene before it became abundantly clear that the sliver wasn't his only opponent.

As soon as he got within an inch of it she was screaming and writhing and doing her best to get away from him. It took both him and Ignita to get her still enough to find the damn thing in the girls paw. That was when Larimar showed up and made it obvious Ollie was needed elsewhere. Well, he was sure the Warlord would understand that he was tending to his slippery daughter who hated him just as much as sitting still. No amount of cooing or distracting was consoling her. Finally, the thing that seemed to break through was Ignita's soft explanation of what needed to happen. Once it was thoroughly explained the girl even curled up and stretched her paw up in the air and squeezed her eyes tightly.

Finally, the giant sliver in her tiny pink pad was fished out by careful exasperated raccoon paws among some more screaming and squirming but they got it, Ollie needed to sit on her at one point.

Blowing through his lips when he had a chance to turn away from them he couldn't help but exchange an eye-roll with his dextrous companion. He finally trotted back to the clinic where Larimar led him.

After a shake of his fur, he came through the door and shrugged off his kit.

He heard the small voice of the stranger talk about not being able to run and sniff and picked up his inner clinic kit while he strolled over to the looming form of Basilisk and what he was going to assume was his new slave. An... Ignita colored slave... Interesting. He gave the warlord a respectful nod.

"Hmmm..." He said plopping down the kit, "Can you tell me more about you not running and sniffing?" He asked without introducing himself, and invading her space by looking into her ears and eyes.
"Speech"

She spoke up at his prompting, supplying the answers as simply as she could. He had a suspicion She didn’t like to supply any information she didn't have to. He tilted his head, curious as he listened to her. So each master had left their mark upon her, had they? He glanced at her scarred leg again. The one that had done that had been messy, not surgical. But the nose… that was interesting. “And your third tried to snap your little neck.” He said conversatinaly. “So, Your nose blind?” He asked to confirm his guess. “You're in your heat cycle now, have any taken advantage of that?” He hadn't missed the scent. Alluring to any male with a nose.


He turned then, hearing the sound of Oleander approaching. He nodded his head to the white wolf as he reached them. “Ollie. I found this one hanging from a tree by her neck. Check her over for any injuries that need tending.”

The sound of another brought her eyes to shift to the corner of them to glance them then she dropped them. Basilisk's question was answered with a short curt nod. She didn't need to give everything up hopefully. She had indeed had an attempt on her life by Fin now, and was nose blind. Then he was speaking about something and she blinked. Heat cycle? It hadn't been covered in her basic slave training one-oh-one by any of her previous masters. "Master Fin complained about my smell.... What's a heat cycle?" She looked up, confusion of the term in her eyes. She didn't meet his eyes though. In order to answer him she needed an idea of what he meant. Then there was the white one in her personal space and she pressed her ears and her eyes widened as he invaded her space. He asked about her previously offered conditions and she blinked. She gestured to the scar on her nose bridge then the one on her forehead with the scarred leg, then to her leg with her nose. "My first master used his teeth to carve my leg, said it made me fetch higher prices...... my Mistress took a knife to my nose to sever the receptors she said after she bashed my head in.... She accused me of sniffing after her personal desert......." She wasn't going to tell them much more. Her mistress had loved that stupid knife and falsely accusing slaves. Her first was just an asshole who bought her from her father. She tried to divert her eyes away and down from the white male, Ollie the Warlord had called him. "Speech"

He lifted up the scarred leg and took careful stock of the state of her muscles. the scarring was severe and her limb seemed wasted. He hummed while he considered the state of her.

"Open up." he encouraged her to open her teeth after she asked the question about a heat cycle. He hooked a paw up to her jaw as he was checking her age and general state of health. He smirked to himself at the question but he was too busy making notes and measuring her teeth to respond. He let her close her mouth and moved on to the scars on her face. They were close enough, eye to eye that she could see the light flecks of lavender in one of his green eyes.

He wondered if the mark over her brow was going to affect her processing speed and intelligence, but with the way she was answering the questions she didn't seem that intellectually delayed. He parted the fur around her throat to see the raw rope marks, still fresh and oozing.

"Hanging from a tree? Hm." He mused, grabbing some tincture and leaves, to disinfect the area, he carefully placed paste-covered leaves over the toughest parts and wrapped them close around her neck.

"She's been through the wringer for sure, made of some stern stuff I think. Probably a fresh two year old." He gave his assessment to Bas over his shoulder then turned to the little fox-like wolf, "You got any physical complaints otherwise? I didn't see any fleas or ear mites. Any injuries buggin you I can't see?" He asked seriously.
"Speech"

In the past, he had promised slaves that they would not be abused sexually in his pack. For the most part, that rule would always stand. However, in the case of Teegra, he intended to hold her presence over Ignita. The next time she pressed for children, he would offer her an ultimatum. 


When it was clear the slave didn't understand what her heat cycle meant, he sighed impatiently. Did no one educate their slaves on the basics any more? Perhaps they had decided this one wasn't pretty enough to warrant such an education. She told a story of terrible abuse, and he listened with a clinical ear as Oleander looked her over. “Your heat cycle comes into effect on the season of your birth in your first year, And every year after.” He decided to go with a very factual explanation


“The scent signals to males that you are fertile and ready to bear children.” It helped that she wasn't family, just a stranger to him. “In the Armada, you are not allowed to bear children without your Warlord's permission. Permission that is rarely given to slaves”

The white male seemed very in her face. Her ears remained pressed. Though for the most part she was silent now. As soon as she had asked what a heat cycle was Ollie was telling her to open her mouth and she did as she was told. But then he was practically manhandling her jaws. Her body was becoming rigid from the attention, used to being more abused then cared for. The moment he released her jaws she closed them and ran her tongue over her teeth. The Warlord started explaining a heat cycle and she turned the ear she had turned to him before back to him. Her master's words were law after all. He explained that the cycle meant she was fertile and that the smell was a signal of that to males. She let a blush color her cheeks at that. "Oh....." her voice was soft and she was just soaking in the education he had just given her. Then he moved to the fact that she was not allowed to bear children her and she gave a nod as Ollie was applying something to the rope wounds from today. She couldn't say she wanted children. She had never been around any really so she figured that wouldn't be an issue. Besides she figured any children she had anyway, due to her status that they would be taken the moment they could be and sold. Ollie gave his Assessment of her and she folded her ears and tucked her chin. Her eyes looked down at her paws. And his question was answered with a shake of her head. "Speech"

Ollie was half listening to Bas's explanation of heat cycles and struggled to keep his face neutral. That reminded him... His littermate's birthday is next season... Huh. Fancy that... His thoughts half drifted to Vesper and wondered when her birthday was. Not that he was looking forward to having his own kids anytime soon! He was having a hard enough time with Bas's kids! Ohhh these thoughts were probably spurred on by this one's scent... that makes sense.

"Anything else, Warlord?" He asked, shifting his pose ever so slightly to peer around the great wolf to Vesper's usual spot. Was she on cleaning duty? He had to get some implements cleaned.

"Speech"

The Warlord nodded his head to Oleander. “Yes, thank you” He said, giving the man the dismissal he clearly wanted. He looked back at the slave and frowned once more. “Do try to keep up” He said, the only indication she would get that she was supposed to follow.

That said, he turned and trotted out of the healers den. His companions moved away to continue their own jobs. Namely the herding of children, and he and the Fox-Wolf made their way up the incline to his den. When he arrived, he gave a specific knock to the door. One that said ‘it’s me, and we have company’ to Ignita’s keen ears.

"Basilisk Fatalis"

The warlord dismissed ollie and she sat with a blush still comprehending the information on heat cycles. Thankfully he wasn't ordering her to be mutilated somehow to keep her from having heats or children. His next words an order to her and she stood. Moving to be at his heels. His strides weren't slow, nor easy to keep up with. Her normal limp had been altered to keep up. She was faster on three legs if she had to run. So she folded her leg to her chest. Hobbled but not incapable of keeping up. Her tailess ass followed as close as possible, keeping her mouth shut to not anger him. When they arrived she slowed finally setting her leg down to hobble to his heel. The run wasn't long thankfully but she had almost sprinted to keep up, seeing as one of his strides were almost four of her own if not five. Her eyes dropped and ears pushed forward. The knock was strange. But she noted it down in her mental catalog. It had to be how the warlord asked to enter places. "Speech"