Horacio kept up his stare upon the Inquisitor, eyes narrowing. Until he found out whether the man was radical or puritan he would have to keep himself reserved and quiet, only adding what he should. When Kliment brought up the rot, he nodded grimly. "We'll leave nothing of it, Lord." he said, his eyebrows getting together in fury. "If death is the result, then it will have been for good purpose, and by the will of the God Emperor." Satisfied, he quietened down.

The man seemed to want to be all dark and mysterious, but his words didn't really form anything good. It wouldn't do well to get the baby-faced youngsters all frightened, which would be the only outcome of such warnings. A good preparatory speech made one's eyes have a golden fire in their soul, it would make those who heard it spill the blood of the unrighteous, and it would make the blood of the righteous boil with zeal and fervour. Perhaps the Confessor best give the Inquisitor a lesson in short speeches, and how not to do them if unable. It would seem that the uplifting words would be left to him.


Upon the ship he merely followed the attendants to his quarters, where after thanking them nearly instantly fell on his back to sleep with a snore that permeated the plasteel walls. As if driven by some internal alarm, he would awake several hours later and go to the chapel where he would pray for the rest of the day. He tried to socialise as little as possible for that would mean people would get an idea of his personality, something a good Confessor best avoid. Usually he had the advantage when speaking to people, but if he spent time around them then they could learn his ins and outs, and perhaps be able to conceal things from him. Thus, he preserved himself for the crucial moments and continued in his cycle of prayer and sleeping, eating in private. 


Finally, when they arrive upon the planet he emerged with various scriptures, seal, aquilas and bits of ammunition all jingling with each step. He went into the lander, holding his power-maul as a staff rather than his shotgun (which was slung upon his back). He was quite eager to see action of any sort, be it the of the face-splattering or the hymn-singing variety. He certainly seemed the least imposing of the group being perhaps the only one without power armour. Still, he had war-hymns, and the rosarius to rely upon, with his carapace being at least helpful. There were other ways to display one's grandeur than height and girth, although perhaps he had the later. Regardless, he resumed the stare he had from the moment before they embarked on the journey. After a while, he spoke up. "I only wish to know if this von Behner has been investigated. Heresy can hide anywhere."