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Post by theredauthar on Mar 28, 2024 23:55:03 GMT -5
There’s a brief flicker of hesitation in Treston’s movements. The man is desperate, what would he do? Take a hostage? Fight? Flee? What moves would he make?
But years of Training and Tradition remind Treston that Mordians only answer such behavior in one way: Stand Firm.
Treston has no time to attach her bayonet, so instead she grips her lasgun tightly and stands firm, bracing herself against the charge.
LanternO'Red Request: `[4df+1]` Roll: `[+, , -, -]` Result: `0`
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Post by hobbsy on Mar 29, 2024 17:03:04 GMT -5
After taking a look behind, Cudjal returned his attention to the driver. "I'm going to have to see who your passengers are, possibly scam the vehicle." he said in his usual, more quiet voice.
He glanced over to the location of the runner, just in time to see the freight collision of 'ready for frying poultry' and 'Mordian steel CO'...
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Post by LaxKnight on Apr 1, 2024 23:30:29 GMT -5
Prue half-raises her gun as the man flees, not eager to shoot an unarmed civilian in the back. When Treston fires at his feet she adds a round over his head. Let the local law enforcement deal with criminals in the refugee camp, she wasn’t going to chase someone into that warren. She takes a moment to fix the runner’s face in her memory to describe to someone later, then turns to the rest of the line. “Anyone else without an ID should shift it back to the tent city, save us all some time. Next!” No one seemed to get up immediately. Trooper Dekker could see the fear in their eyes as they seemed unsure that the gunfire was over. All but one. Taking a moment to get up, a woman in a light gray robe would dust herself off before going to approach Dekker. Her hood was up but it didn't shield her thin pale face from the light. Prue could see a small symbol of the Adeptus Administratum on her left breast. She had a gray ID card in her metal bionic right hand while her left wrapped around her frame in an effort to stay warm. She’d stop a few feet away and hold out her ID to the Steel Legionnaire.
There’s a brief flicker of hesitation in Treston’s movements. The man is desperate, what would he do? Take a hostage? Fight? Flee? What moves would he make? But years of Training and Tradition remind Treston that Mordians only answer such behavior in one way: Stand Firm. Treston has no time to attach her bayonet, so instead she grips her lasgun tightly and stands firm, bracing herself against the charge. LanternO'Red Request: `[4df+1]` Roll: `[+, , -, -]` Result: `0` The runner made his choice. He braced his arms in front of him as he tried to plow through Specialist Treston. ((LaxKnight Request: [4df+1] Roll: [ , , -, -] Result: -1)) Unfortunately for him, not only was Treston ready for him but she was a Mordian Iron Guard. Few regiments can ever hope to hold the resolve of a Mordian holding the line. There was a crash as he ran into her but he fell to the ground while Adela stood firm. The way his eyes seemed out of focus made it seem to the medic that he was dazed as he looked up into the night sky. He also seemed to have lost his breath.
After taking a look behind, Cudjal returned his attention to the driver. "I'm going to have to see who your passengers are, possibly scam the vehicle." he said in his usual, more quiet voice. He glanced over to the location of the runner, just in time to see the freight collision of 'ready for frying poultry' and 'Mordian steel CO'... “Scam?” the driver exclaimed. At this point the door to the car-carriage would open. Poking her head out was the yellow shawl with black rings of a young woman. She’d look around in distress before her blue eyes framed by stylish yet thin red rimmed glasses settled on Private Cudjal. “What is the commotion going on here?” she asked. |
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Post by hobbsy on Apr 3, 2024 1:12:00 GMT -5
The results of the collision were pretty much as Vernard had expect, but it was still as entertaining as he had hoped. With the show over for the time being, he was about to reply to the driver's exclamation when another voice demanded his attention.
To Vernard, she was the prettiest thing he had seen in a while (and you wouldn't believe the variety of pretty things one finds in the sewers these days!). For a moment the PDF trooper simply gawked at the young woman. Eventually his senses returned to the point were he could function again.
"Just a slip of the tongue, I'll handle it from here and will have you away in no time." Pte Cudjal said in his whispered tome as he gave the driver a friendly pat on the shoulder and moved to the side of the passenger compartment. He looked up to the young noble and gave his politest attempt at addressing her question.
[[Roll to speak to women= -1]]
"Oi! Miss. Got an ID? I need to see it so I can get you on your way. Also tell me if there are any other passages so I don't have to climb up and check."
It is safe to say that Cudjal hadn't talked to a lady in a while either.
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quoth
Junior Member
Posts: 82
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Post by quoth on Apr 4, 2024 12:54:19 GMT -5
Prue takes the proffered ID badge from the clerk and gives it a once-over. If it seems correct she’ll let the woman through without hassle. “See, you lot? Simple as. Up you get, form a queue.”
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Post by theredauthar on Apr 5, 2024 23:21:36 GMT -5
Treston points the lasgun at the runner, looking him over.
“What kind of dumbass are you? You could have been shot! There’s easier ways to get yourself killed!” she snaps.
She pauses kneeling down to check the man’s pulse, “On Mordian, you likely would have been shot on the spot. Well…that or…”
She stands and jabs him with the lasgun, “On your feet recruit. You just enlisted yourself into the Guard! I’m sure the Commissar won’t mind filling out the paperwork for you. In the meantime I’m putting you to work!”
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Post by LaxKnight on Apr 8, 2024 1:18:48 GMT -5
The results of the collision were pretty much as Vernard had expect, but it was still as entertaining as he had hoped. With the show over for the time being, he was about to reply to the driver's exclamation when another voice demanded his attention. To Vernard, she was the prettiest thing he had seen in a while (and you wouldn't believe the variety of pretty things one finds in the sewers these days!). For a moment the PDF trooper simply gawked at the young woman. Eventually his senses returned to the point were he could function again. "Just a slip of the tongue, I'll handle it from here and will have you away in no time." Pte Cudjal said in his whispered tome as he gave the driver a friendly pat on the shoulder and moved to the side of the passenger compartment. He looked up to the young noble and gave his politest attempt at addressing her question. [[Roll to speak to women= -1]] "Oi! Miss. Got an ID? I need to see it so I can get you on your way. Also tell me if there are any other passages so I don't have to climb up and check." It is safe to say that Cudjal hadn't talked to a lady in a while either. The driver did not look comforted but remained still as Private Cudjal walked to see the woman. With where he was he’d see her lovely gold ballroom dress, black leather jacket with black fur inner lining, and the gold gloves he saw earlier. She was indeed one of the prettiest things he’s seen in a while, especially when she smiled at him. “It’s just me and Roland in here. I gave him my ID,” she pointed to the purple ID in the driver’s hand, “I didn’t realize you were going to be so thorough. Apologies Private.” Her sapphire eyes looked over his helmet. “That is an Arbites helmet, yes? Did you serve?” she asked.
Prue takes the proffered ID badge from the clerk and gives it a once-over. If it seems correct she’ll let the woman through without hassle. “See, you lot? Simple as. Up you get, form a queue.” At this distance not only could Specialist Dekker see the face of the woman before her and realize she might actually recognize her. This woman, name Andrea Writemore, rank Adept, department Adeptus Administratum on her ID, gave her and probably a good majority of other people here their IDs. Indeed her name was written on the back of her ID. The long black hair, dark ale colored face, and bored expression of someone who’s dealt with one too many officers was the same when she issued Prue’s ID, on the ID the Legionnaire held, and what she had now as she waited for her ID back. The back of her ID had a different signature verifying authenticity. Once given her ID back Andrea gave her a nod before walking in. Seeing this and hearing Prue’s words, plus no one shooting or aiming guns in their direction in a while, the others started to get up. The next in line was an older woman with two children. She kept them huddled around her legs as she offered Prue a green ID.
Treston points the lasgun at the runner, looking him over. “What kind of dumbass are you? You could have been shot! There’s easier ways to get yourself killed!” she snaps. She pauses kneeling down to check the man’s pulse, “On Mordian, you likely would have been shot on the spot. Well…that or…” She stands and jabs him with the lasgun, “On your feet recruit. You just enlisted yourself into the Guard! I’m sure the Commissar won’t mind filling out the paperwork for you. In the meantime I’m putting you to work!” Aside from looking a bit battered, nothing looked broken or demanded medical attention. His pulse was racing when Specialist Treston checked it. Makes sense since he just ran in a likely life-or-death situation. The man didn’t seem to listen until she jabbed him with the lasgun. He seemed really confused at her words. “Enlisted?” he asked. ((For a more detailed search/description please make a roll with a target of 3.)) |
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Post by hobbsy on Apr 8, 2024 3:22:50 GMT -5
Vernard looked over to the driver, still holding the two ID cards in confirmation. "Ah. Um.. no need to apologize Miss. You just gave us a bit of a scare with your approach. Might do better to be more steady coming up to the check point aye." he said while still looking at the driver instead of facing the noble. Hopefully whosever idea it was to rush up would get the point.
Her next comment did return his gaze to her. But the mentioning of the helmet quickly converted the attentive stare to a rather more shy lowering of the head. To the point that not only the eyes, but the face too was covered from her view by the dented, yet well cared for helmet.
This wasn't any sort of shyness from being questioned by a pretty face, but more a reaction of shame as the rat catcher, let alone anyone of his pass or future family, would ever reach such a respectable stature. The tunnels made it particularly sure that his stature would remain slightly bent over.
"No Miss." He finally replied. "Just a family keep safe that keeps me safe in both my occupations.". After a moment of awkward silence (but before anything more could be said), Private Cudjal began moving back towards the gate as he raised his voice once move.
[[Roll to yell once more = 1]]
"Alright! You're clear to hop back in and drive. Just be careful of the pedestrians aye. Move the barrier!". He rubbed his throat and lifted his scarf as he made his way back. Speaking louder and generally more than usual was taking a toll on his voice.
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Post by theredauthar on Apr 8, 2024 21:58:18 GMT -5
Treston looks at the man, “I mean if you’d rather I shoot you, it’s no skin off my nose.”
She begins giving him a brief physical, checking his eyes and ears and for any injuries.
LanternO'Red Request: [4df+3] Roll: [+, +, +, ] Result: 6
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Post by Fate's End on Apr 14, 2024 22:15:21 GMT -5
Trooper Bembenak finally let out the tension that had been building in her body, though a sickly feeling in her stomach roiled still. Had Cudjal just gotten them all killed? Nobles on this damned planet, like so many in the Imperium, didn't like being held up. And could object, or perhaps retroactively deliver retribution, in a hyper lethal manner. But probably not tonight. And maybe they hadn't seen her face. Maybe.
She loosened the grip on her rifle and slung it back over her shoulder, heading back into the gatehouse and activating the barrier controls to allow passage to the hopefully magnanimous feeling noble.
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quoth
Junior Member
Posts: 82
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Post by quoth on Apr 15, 2024 10:36:28 GMT -5
With order apparently restored to her little crowd of pedestrians, Dekker proceeds with the officious duties of matching IDs to faces. She takes the green card, scanning it and its owner without much suspicion.
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Post by LaxKnight on Apr 16, 2024 0:37:56 GMT -5
Vernard looked over to the driver, still holding the two ID cards in confirmation. "Ah. Um.. no need to apologize Miss. You just gave us a bit of a scare with your approach. Might do better to be more steady coming up to the check point aye." he said while still looking at the driver instead of facing the noble. Hopefully whosever idea it was to rush up would get the point. Her next comment did return his gaze to her. But the mentioning of the helmet quickly converted the attentive stare to a rather more shy lowering of the head. To the point that not only the eyes, but the face too was covered from her view by the dented, yet well cared for helmet. This wasn't any sort of shyness from being questioned by a pretty face, but more a reaction of shame as the rat catcher, let alone anyone of his pass or future family, would ever reach such a respectable stature. The tunnels made it particularly sure that his stature would remain slightly bent over. "No Miss." He finally replied. "Just a family keep safe that keeps me safe in both my occupations.". After a moment of awkward silence (but before anything more could be said), Private Cudjal began moving back towards the gate as he raised his voice once move. [[Roll to yell once more = 1]] "Alright! You're clear to hop back in and drive. Just be careful of the pedestrians aye. Move the barrier!". He rubbed his throat and lifted his scarf as he made his way back. Speaking louder and generally more than usual was taking a toll on his voice. Trooper Bembenak finally let out the tension that had been building in her body, though a sickly feeling in her stomach roiled still. Had Cudjal just gotten them all killed? Nobles on this damned planet, like so many in the Imperium, didn't like being held up. And could object, or perhaps retroactively deliver retribution, in a hyper lethal manner. But probably not tonight. And maybe they hadn't seen her face. Maybe. She loosened the grip on her rifle and slung it back over her shoulder, heading back into the gatehouse and activating the barrier controls to allow passage to the hopefully magnanimous feeling noble. The noble was about to say something to Private Cudjal but he left before she could say anything. After his yell he’d hear the noble call, “Thank you, Private Cudjal!” The driver for his part didn’t hesitate to move as he moved back into the car-carriage. The doors closed, the driver gave the purple ID back through the middle window, and kept both hands on the wheel. Trooper Bembenak lowered the barrier and as the car-carriage passed she and Cudjal could see the noble lowered her window so she could wave at them, saying, “Happy Candlemass!”
Treston looks at the man, “I mean if you’d rather I shoot you, it’s no skin off my nose.” She begins giving him a brief physical, checking his eyes and ears and for any injuries. LanternO'Red Request: [4df+3] Roll: [+, +, +, ] Result: 6 “Well, not getting shot is nice,” that was probably the first words Specialist Treston heard him say. As the medic looked over the man a bit closer something caught her eye. The earlier collision opened his coat and some of his shirt. It was very faint, easy to miss, but on his chest was a very light scar shaped like a point. A little further investigation showed there was another point and they stemmed from a circle. While she didn't see the whole thing, Adela would realize she likely knew what it was the makings of. A Chaos star. Seemingly unaware, the man said, “So… you’re forcing me to be conscripted? Just for running?”
With order apparently restored to her little crowd of pedestrians, Dekker proceeds with the officious duties of matching IDs to faces. She takes the green card, scanning it and its owner without much suspicion. The ID Specialist Dekker had name: Rene Barkbell, residence in the outer ring, and employer/sponsor: Levman Monvinik. The picture was of a young woman with bright blue eyes, round face, sunkissed skin, and brown hair pulled back. The woman before the Guardswoman was much more haggard and her eyes, while blue, lost their brightness. She had a shawl, a leather jacket, gloves, and a brown dress. She had two children, a boy and girl, who were in dull orange wool coats that were far too big for them. |
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Post by hobbsy on Apr 16, 2024 16:14:55 GMT -5
After his yell he’d hear the noble call, “Thank you, Private Cudjal!”l When the noble called out her thanks, Cudjal didn't show much notice. It did strike him as odd though. But why? He quickly dismissed the feeling as probably because he'd assume that a noble wouldn't care much about a name of a lowly PDF private, let alone remember it. But something still scratched at the back of his mind, something that was just not quite right... But, not letting it bother him too much, Cudjal carried on with his duty. He gave a waved to Bembenak as she lowered the barrier and took up his previous position just past the barrier line. He watched as the carriage drove on by, giving a visible nod at the lowered window and Candlemas wishes. He was about to return the wishes, when that something at the back of his mind finally dawned on him. During the entire event, he never mentioned his name. His eyes widening with sudden realization as he turned and watching the carriage carry on into the base, he simply stood there. Mute to do anything. What could he do? Stop the carriage again because some rich girl guessed his name? No a good option. By now the carriage was well past the point of his area of influence. And so, he continued to stare, fighting back the different elements of concern. |
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quoth
Junior Member
Posts: 82
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Post by quoth on Apr 16, 2024 17:14:02 GMT -5
Civvies really do get hit hard in this kind of long conflict, muses Prue, noting the pronounced change to the woman’s appearance. She hands back the ID and waves the family past. “Next please”
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Post by theredauthar on Apr 21, 2024 1:18:53 GMT -5
As soon as she sees the scar, and realizes what it is, the brief physical is over. Treston stands, giving the man one final look before saying, “No.”
She then fires her lasgun into the man’s head.
“On Mordian there is only one solution for traitors and heretics,” she says calmly, if not a bit coldly.
She then turns back to the old couple, “My apologies. Where were we?”
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