Candlemass Guard Duty [Closed][Imperium][Semi-Canon]

Adela sighs at Prue’s words, “You’re right, I suppose. At least it was just the boot and not his foot, Though I’d rather not have to remove Cudjal’s foot due to frostbite. I don’t think he could afford a replacement.”

She rises to her feet, and calls out to Ilona, “Lower the barricade!"

She then turns back to Cudjal, “As the barricade lowers, pull your boot free. With any luck the moving parts should allow your laces to slip free.”

“…small…boat…” Dekker finishes writing and stashes the notebook back in her coat as she makes her way back to the guardhouse. She finds a nice spot out of the weather to lean against just a breath before spotting the incoming figure in the robes. With a long-suffering sigh she stands back upright and positions herself to be the first one the techpriest meets at the gate.

Specialist Treston continues to demonstrate why she became the de facto leader as she gave out orders. As a dutiful Mordian should, Trooper Bembenek lowered the barrier as she remained vigilant. For Private Cudjal’s part, he held onto his boot and with methodical care gently pulled his laces from the gears as they came out until the barrier was nearly all the way lowered and his boot came free. While they were slightly frayed, his laces were still strong and in one piece along with the rest of his boot. Perhaps only the angriest and perfectionist of Commissars would care to harass him on it once he got the grease off. He even managed to remain standing without setting his bootless foot onto the cold ground.

Ilona would see that the barrier was still operational and there was nothing indicating it was damaged in any way. When she looked out, she saw that the man who owned the broken wagon was tending to his bright orange cows that were still easily seen in the relative dark thanks to the light from the walls.

Adela would know that, with how the temperature was now and seeing Cudjal’s foot at the moment, Vernard was in no real danger of getting frostbite anytime soon unless he got his boot or sock wet.

---

Specialist Dekker was used to the presence of techpriests, but she’s only seen them in red robes that made them stand out. The newcomer wore blue robes which may have confused her at first, but as they got closer Prue could see the Omnissian Axe and some mechadendrites that made their identity unmistakable. As they hobbled closer, she could see that all visible metal was a dull silver. Their face was completely covered by a mask with glowing blue lenses and a pair of tubes spouting from their mouth to their chest. She could see that one large mechadendrite was folded behind them, perhaps carrying something heavy she could not see.

The Techpriest would stop before Prue and a vox modulated male voice would ask, “Specialist, is this the hatch that called for aid?”

Cudjal gave a sigh of relief as the boot finally came free. It still looked alright despite the whole ordeal. "Thank you." he said to Adela with a small, humble bow of his head towards her. Vernard meant every word of it too. His boots are a vital part of his income, hence a vital part of his survival.

He did make a mental note to get some better boots without laces whenever he came into enough money.

He moved to put the boot back on, though stopped as he realized his woolen sock was still damp even after his best efforts to preserve them. After a moments consideration, he removed the sock and wrapped it below his scarf. A shiver ran down his spine at the cold touch, but at least it smelt better than the scarf. With the sock now stashed away to dry via body heat, Cudjal once more began to unlace the boot to reattach it to his foot.

“You are too kind, Specialist. I am just a humble Tech-Priest. I would probably be a Engiseer assigned to a regiment at this moment if things were not as they are now,” he replied.

Seeing him this close, Specialist Dekker can see that the Tech-Priest was carrying a wheel in his large manipulator mechadendrite. It was perhaps a bit too big for the wagon. Both Prue and Specialist Treston could see Rupert was tending to his cows when he noticed the Ork Hunter and Tech-Priest approach.

“What’s all this?” he asked them.

“I was told your vehicle required repairs. I have come to assist,” the Tech-Priest replied.

The old man blinked in surprise. “Oh. Uh… sure,” he said, “Do what you need to. I’ll keep these out of the way. Just try not to knock any kegs out.”

“Of course,” the Tech-Priest said. The manipulator would then flip so the wheel was in front of him. He’d take a bit to simply look at the wagon, during which he’d say, “Specialist, what happened to this vehicle?”

---

Nothing else happened that could interrupt Private Cudjal putting on his boot or Specialist Treston (and perhaps Trooper Bembenek) taking a moment to look out into the nightscape around them. The snow also seemed to have lightened up so nothing could obstruct their serene view. The village in the distance were vague silhouettes now with dots of lit windows of families celebrating the night. No movement could be seen as the world seemed content for the night. Even the cold seemed to respect the holiday as its bite lost most of its edge. It was very likely that once that wagon was gone, they were due for a peaceful rest of the shift.

((Everyone at the gate may roll a Careful or Quick test with a target of 1 to see if they hear or notice something.))

“I thought sewer gaiters were common, though some argue it’s sewer crocs. I find it hard to believe someone would mistake the two,” Adela replies, her voice is very neutral, hiding if her words were a joke or if the Mordian was unfamiliar with the large reptiles referred to as crocs and gators.

LanternO'Red Request: [4df+2] Roll: [+, +, , -] Result: 3
Instead of clarifying or saying more, the medic quickly returns to surveying the area for approaching refugees, vehicles, or trouble.