Despite the nipping cold, Nefarious was equipped well enough with fur, which had grown coarser over the course of the autumn months. He was part Arctic, he knew, which probably gave him a tiny percentile of an advantage against warding off the winter chill that was known to seep into the marrow of bones, but then again he didn't know for sure. Black, leathery nose lowered to take in the urine markings as the Kesuk finally reached the borders of the Creek. Though the Shaman's priorities were geared more towards the trades that would assist in his practices, he also enjoyed the repetitive motion of border patrolling and figured that it wouldn't hurt to aid in them, to put some effort towards the Warden trade despite that it wasn't overly pressing in his personal list.

Pumpkin orange eyes stared out at the free territories beyond for a few moments, un-moving, studying the fleeing shadows as the sun rose into the sky for a few moments before he picked a direction at random and began his first patrol of the Creek's borders, suspecting that he would pick up the routine quick enough.

A gruff greeting was issued to Nefarious, coming from his side of the borders which caused the shaman to pause in his steps. A glimpse was given over his shoulder to study the male that approached him. Nefarious did not know his name, and assumed as he did with everyone he met that he'd been around much longer than Nefarious himself. At some point, Nefarious knew he'd have to stop assuming that about everyone but for now it likely remained fairly true. Nefarious stance changed to one of neutral respect, saving the submissiveness for the authority of the Creek – Scimitar and now Kaskara, the newly appointed Beta. “Hello,” Nefarious returned the greeting, before he looked away, towards the free territory beyond their borders once, a sweeping gesture before he turned so that he was facing his pack mate figuring it was safe to give the other his full attention. Or if not his full attention then, at the very least, most of it. Since the word of this 'Shadow' fellow, the father of Paar's unborn children had been addressed at the meeting Nefarious had throwing himself into patrols, in a want to protect the exotic woman and her children, and because he knew he needed to earn his place as a valuable member here even if his shamanism was seen as unorthodox.

Nefarious attempted to be respectful with his practices and faith, performing his rituals and building his alters to Atka and Sos close to his own den. If he were to perform any sort of Voodoo directed towards the Creek it would be of protection as opposed to anything dark. Those magicks were saved for the enemies of the Creek and those who deserved to be cursed at the shaman's own discretion. “I am afraid I do not know your name,” Nefarious admitted to the other male, though this was expected as far as Nefarious could see since they'd only ever seen each other in passing and at the meeting. “I am Nefarious.” The shaman introduced, just in case and because it was only polite, after all.

Quote: not a prob, T.
Every time in look at your prof for Fari, & see Andy, I just fall in love all over again.

"I am Nefarious," He had only given his true name to Paarthurnax, spurred forth into confessing it by some strange feeling of trust for the heavily pregnant female though he's barely known her. Rarely did he ever speak the name Anik, possessive over it as Suluk had been over him. Apparently, possessiveness was a trait that was susceptible to bein learned. It was not one that Nefarious was overly proud nor fond of but it was one he had picked up to his great disdain nevertheless. Following his introduction the shaman fell to silence, figuring that if there was anything else that Saber was curious about he would ask.

Velveteen ear flickered lazily towards Saber when the other male spoke of not pushing another idiot sneak into their lands. A muted snort of amusement left the shaman's back, learhery nostrils. He had ideas of how they could ward off potential trespassers but whether it would be an idea accepted or spurred by the leadership of the pack Nefarious did not know. "They will learn their lesson," The shaman had plenty of curses in his arsenal that he could perform on those, as his companion put it, idiotic enough to cross into claim lands. Or poisons in the form of a gift. It depended on how legal it needed to be to get the point across. The shaman likes the side of neutrality, favoring neither Atka or Sos but balancing them both, though he harbor to darkness in his heart, the area in which Sos reigned supreme, like every man did.

Instead of spurning it, there were times in which Nefarious embraced it. There was no use in fighting what would never go away, he felt, at least when it came to internal affairs.