Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-1734134-20190911202955/@comment-30488984-20191019031635

Cyradon lets the possessed marine slide off of his sword and leaves the body to the Magos. He remains silent, looking into the eyes of his dead cousin, the life gone from them. He has killed his cousins before, but it always felt wrong, no matter how corrupted or lost they were. It takes a moment for the Stormtrooper's words to break his thought. He looks around before answering, blood was everywhere, wet and pooling on the ground. He looks down to his arms and sees a mixture of black blood of the daemon host and that of the warp phenomena streaming down them.

He finally turns his gaze to Hen, "The body is useless. A daemon needs a living host to remain in our plane of existence. It's essence may still linger for a while but it can do us no harm unless the warp was to tear into our reality allowing it to take its true form. Though..." he looks over at the Magos defiling the cadavere, "I would have liked to search the body for clues of who this was and what he was doing here." Seeing the Magos walking over to the Scions, Cyradon takes the opportunity to inspect the little left of the marine's body. He looks for sings of any sort, be it chaos markings, warband sigils, chapter iconography, tattoos, the mark of power armor, and if anything like parchment or or data slates still remained intact.

He understands the barriers of the warp to be thin, but he decides that trying to divine the history of this man might shed light on what servants of the chaos lord are doing this deep in the Imperial-Tau warzone. He attempts to cast Psychometry to see what else he can find out about his cousin that would otherwise have been lost in the cleansing flame of Tarkhan's ignorance.