Nimbus Summit and that hell had carved its name on his bones.

Though his attention had been called to Vein -- likely a natural reaction of many who had met the shaman -- he had not forgotten the arctic she-wolf who sat nearby. His pale gaze moved to her as the medicine man ambled off to the side and removed his burdens. 

At the Phoenix's freely offered words, words he'd never thought to hear despite his fervent search for the man who had been his battle-brother, a grin spilled across his features like warm honey. He barked out a chuckle of shock. 

"You don't say. I happen to be looking for Kynareth," he revealed with a few slow wags of his dark tail. Then, so she would know he was not a threat to Kyn, he added: "We grew up together in the original Saints. I moved to an ally charter back home, the Seraphs, some time ago but when I returned to The Abbey to visit with the Deagons, I found the Saints were no more." 

The Sergeant dared to rise and take a few steps closer -- though he lowered his tail and auds as he drew near on confident steps, hoping to let her know he meant her no ill will. If it were really true, she was his ally; Matias had no reason to hurt her. He proffered his left shoulder (the uninjured one) for Nyra to inspect more closely. 

A faded tattoo was visible there, warped scar tissue hidden amongst the thick chocolate fur. Similar to the shape of an auroch's skull, a symbol of the Seraphs' sisters, though it differed somewhat -- a demon's skull carved into his flesh and dyed a deep crimson with desert ochres to mark him as a leader of the Seraphim. 

But the Calaveras were another world away and the Stormborne had no idea if Kynareth had ever mentioned anything about Matias or the charter he'd escaped to in their youth. He wasn't sure his killmark would mean anything to the warwife. He was just about to ask her if it might be possible for him to have a meeting with the Grandmaster when Vein reappeared at his side and asked to apply a green poultice to the warlord's wound. 

"Sure," he agreed readily, though he wanted to insist that the man save his medicines for a more dire situation. Matias' little scratch really didn't require too much attention, he'd only planned to lick it clean and continue on his merry way. But Vein seemed insistent that it was more serious than the Ujier believed, leading him to give into the pallid healer's fretful care. "Thank you again," there was a hint of amusement in the faint grin that lingered on his lips.