Tymor digested their words, eyes narrowed behind the skull visage of his helm. The one mounted he marked briefly as a target. Astartes plate could take a bolt round far more successfully than whatever natural armour he had. The armours daemon spirit concured, and they dismissed him as a threat. Should he try anything, he would not last long.<br/><br/>He lowered the knife, sliding it back into it's sheath and reached his hands up to his helm. Turning it carefully he unlocked it and removed it, revealing a pale skinned head with almost black eyes. He narrowed them at the light, waiting as they adjusted, before securing his helm to his belt and gathering up the skin of water. He briefly considered the possibility it was poisoned, but if they had wanted to harm him, all they would have had to do would have been leave him there.<br/><br/>He raised the skin, taking several long swallows from it, before lowering it again. "Tanvi. Dauskin." His eyes flicked from one to the next as if locking on to targets. "I am Tymor." His voice was deep, gravelly from lack of water most likely.<em>And I do not like the idea of any gods taking an interest in me.</em>he thought as he looked around.<em>But since dying will make it rather hard to fulfill my Oath, let us see where this game goes. At least til I can recover my strength and kill that waste of geneseed Harakk.</em><br/><br/>He gestured towards the figure lying still on the ground. "Will your mount take his weight?"