Kneeling to bless the flesh of the fallen man, Adan's hand drifted down to touch him at the neck, at the shoulders, and thrice on the sternum, in the star of Trigu, before he spoke in the ancient tongue of the church, a blessing for the fallen. '"Requiem aeternam dona ei, Trigu, et perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Trigu, eleison."
As his hand came up from the clammy flesh, taking in the wax, the dagger, and the scroll, Adan frowned, straightening entirely. "You're right. This stinks of magic." Looking down, the once-paladin, once-guardsman nudges the body with his toe. "Warded against sound, but he still got taken. The question, then, must become: Did what he ward against catch him, and defeat him despite his precautions, or was it another? In any case, it had not interest in his flesh, which is disturbing. A natural beast would have been attempting to defend itself or sate it's hunger, and there would be injuries."
For a moment, he presses his lips together, a brief prayer to his Lord and Master drifting through his mind. "We have some courses before us, friend. It will be luck to build even a cairn for him, in this wood, though something must be done. There are rumors of the Banshee, and here..." Adan swallows deeply, the shot of fear that shivers down his spine quelled forcefully, though consciously. "Here we begin to approach the area that yet may be the demense of my nemesis. Its end, even should it cost me my life, is everything. I cannot permit anything else to kill me before I destroy it. We are far, however, from the stronghold of the Holy Swordswoman, and her power in these swamps is not impressive. Prudence, then, speaks that we should retreat some miles, and await the coming of the sun. Valor dictates that we should hunt and destroy his killer. What think you, Kyrian?"