Moros Insognia Son of Russ draped himself in his frost white wolf pelt over the Mark VI power suit. It's head was his helm the teeth resting on his brow and the glassy blue eyes facing forward to stare at the enemies to be cut down. He listened to each word spoken by the inquisitor though he had some contempt for those who acted with little more than indignation and zealotry to back their cause up. No he was a man of calculating and intense conviction based on fact, reason, and in fact the good of mankind both small and big. As the high inquisitor left and the ship doors opened his blood surged and he caressed his Sacris Claymore the blades edge sharp and maintained as prized to Moros as his armor in many regards.

The kill team now aboard the ship consecrated and heading towards the inevitable and savage blood bath. This was a death march and all who opposed them would find themselves the foundation for the very road all would follow on. As he thought he knew the fear others would feel when they recognized his raiment. For the emperor he had fought many times and the foes that laid in his wake could fill a thousand graves over. He looked to each member of the squad and began to size them up access their specialties and find out how best to coordinate and attack as one creature in unity to quickly end their foes.

"So who among you has fought the Tau?" Moros said his blade resting across his lap as he looked around the ship. His voice was cold and deep. His face the only part of his body one could see was strangely plain. It was a face one could simply lose among a crowd.