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

The sound of the lasgun discharging brought Vernard back to reality from wherever the passing oddity had sent him. He turned around and did a quick assessment of the current flow of the gate after the carriage's departure.

Man shot dead. Most likely deserved it. Flow of traffic? Only a trickle of people now. Work to be done? Might as well help the legionnaire.

With his mind readjusted, Cudjal walked over to support and cover Specialist Dekker just as the man mentioned that his wife didn't have a pass. He made an exaggerated effort to look behind the pair to the freshly shot stiff which lay in the snow behind them. "I don't think he had an ID either." Cudjal said indirectly, but loud enough for the pair to hear him.

Adela shoulders her weapon again, as a sign that she has no intention of killing the old couple at this time.

“No need to be nervous, unless you have something to hide,” she says.

Treston takes the ID card from the man to Carefully look it over.

“What’s your cargo and purpose?” she asks calmly.

LanternO'Red Request: [4df+2] Roll: [+, +, , -] Result: 3

Hearing Private Cudjal’s words, the couple got a bit nervous. “Bu… but they said that we could get IDs here. I did!” the man said, looking between Cudjal and Specialist Dekker along with bringing up his green ID he was already holding as proof, “I mean, where else are we supposed to get them?”

The wife clung to his arm, obviously worried considering Cudjal’s comment.
“My… my work said that… I could get one here,” she stammered to add.


For Trooper Ilona's part, the only people left in line, a man and a child, were well behaved. That was probably because they were too busy shivering. Likely sensing this might take a bit, the man would crouch down and envelop the girl in the rags that could barely be classified as a blanket. While the temperature wasn't freezing, it was still fairly cold.

---

The ID was blue with the name Rupert Rumsmith. The address she recognized to be the same as Penelope’s, and the employer/sponsor was Rumsmith Brewing. The back had the print permitting him to do business in the Inner District along with the Administratum signature and stamp. The picture on the ID was a man with low fade, old slate black hair, round face with fair skin and a burn on his left cheek, close beard, and ale brown eyes. This indeed looked like the man before her as rubbed his hurt shoulder, saying, “It’s booze you see. I’m delivering it to a place called Tavern’s Harvest in the Outer Ring. Supposed to get there before tonight’s party was over but… yeah.”

He’d nod to the broken wagon before sighing.

“You said you wanted to see the contents of the cargo? Penelope has a mug for you if you want to check,” he’d wave to his wife, who stood at the back of the wagon with a mug.

[[Roll to remember the brief=0]]

Although the Arbites helmet covered the top half of his face, the look of bewilderment was still clearly visible. "One moment." he whispered back before shuffling over to where Ilona was standing. "Do you remember where the officer said the office to get IDs was?" he whispered in turn to the Mordian.

Trooper Bembenek glanced to Cudjal, memorization had been beaten into her relatively early during her training within the Astra Militarum. "We detain them until a noble, commissar, officer or Munitorum official verifies them or takes them for processing." She replied flatly, trying desperately to sound as robotic as possible.

She pointed at the man and child and called out sternly, "You two, approach and present ID's." Her eyes stayed locked squarely at a point above the man's head, not wishing to look at the child. She didn't think she could handle that.

The couple watched as their question was passed down the line; getting increasingly worried until an actual answer was given. When Private Cudjal finally spoke to them they’d give a nod as the man tucked his ID back into his pocket. They’d follow Cudjal to wherever he took them.

With Cudjal gone and Ilona tending to the last people in the line, Specialist Dekker now found herself alone at the wall.

---

Since Trooper Bembenek was looking above the man’s head, she didn’t really see much except the man coming toward her. They’d stop a few feet away and she could hear a gruff voice croak, “Do you know if the Temple is open?”

---

Penelope would give Specialist Treston a nod before putting the mug away. Rupert would sigh as he too looked at where a wheel should be. When Adela would ask her question he’d rub his shoulder in thought. “Well, it’s fixable… but I don’t have a replacement wheel. Unless you guys have one laying around… I guess… maybe Penelope could go to the Tavern and ask around. It’s gonna take a while though, especially if no one there can help,” he sighed, “If you want this moved off the road I’m gonna need some help.”

Ilona gave Prue a solemn nod, and then after a beat turned her attention back to the man and his . . .child. She allowed her hard eyes to fall just a bit and stare at the man with a cold expression. "No clue." she stated flatly, "Do you have ID or not?" As an afterthought, she asked "Your reason for entry is the temple, then?"