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

“No, we got this,” the Steel Legionnaire said, “You can get back to your post. Just spread the word about the kid ID policy to your comrades for us if you can please. If you have questions on it, well, there’s the command phone; and if that’s too scary then I’m not going anywhere.”

If Trooper Brembenak took a peek she’d see Xavier was now conversing with the woman in light gray Administratum robes that Ilona might have recognized from being in the line earlier. However, his daughter was looking at the Mordian with big, curious blue eyes.

((When Ilona steps out and sees the truck she will suffer future tests at a -1 while it’s there since it bothers you to such a degree that it occupies some of your attention. If you wish to push through, brush aside, or otherwise repress these negative feelings and ignore the penalty, roll for with a target of 3 with whatever Approach seems appropriate.))

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Penelope wouldn’t need to be told twice. She’d give Specialist Treston a nod before happily and quickly scurrying away through the gate. No one could blame her; they were all feeling the foreboding aura from the truck but some could handle it better than others.

For Specialist Dekker, this feeling was probably something she’s never really felt before and it terrified her. There was something wrong, something dreadful hiding in that truck. Her instincts that she honed in the jungles of Armageddon screamed at her that something was off. She of course couldn’t see it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. The ambushes from the jungles taught her that too well.
((Specialist Dekker failed her role to resist the truck’s dread. She will take a -1 to all rolls while it is on scene as it occupies her thoughts.))

Private Cudjal had already braced himself for the truck and had plenty of experience dealing with unpleasant things. He worked in the sewers after all with rats, fecal waves, trash piles taller than him, and other unspeakable things. While this was a new type of ill feeling, the rat catcher dealt with it like every other thing. Besides, there was nothing wrong with this truck. Outwardly anyway. When he went to the driver, he’d see a clean shaven, blue eyed man in gray coveralls that looked like it had some use. He also had a simple gray watch cap covering his black hair. He had a brown leather jacket with his hands firmly in his jacket pockets as he huddled in on himself. If he was affected by the ominous aura it didn’t show, but it was clear the cold did. Seeing Vernard, he’d give him a nod. As for the rest of the cab, it was pretty empty and looked fairly standard. The heater was roaring in an attempt to warm the cab. Nothing seemed off about it. Whatever the bad vibes were coming from, it wasn't from the driver nor the cab.

While she acknowledged the bad vibes from the truck, Specialist Treston steeled herself by simply focusing on the task at hand. Naturally, as both a Guardswoman and a medic her first task was to separate the civilian from the potential threat. With Penelope now gone she could focus on trying to identify why she was feeling this way. Nothing visual stood out to her, perhaps it was something else? Maybe a psyker? But… that didn’t seem right either. They would likely be more subtle. It felt more like… a void. And that’s when it clicked. In Adela’s medical training they briefly covered beings known as Blanks or Pariahs. Her teachers described them as anti-psykers; their very existence is an abomination to anything vaguely connected to the Warp to the point where psykers are in pain around them. She was told this aura could also be strong enough to affect normal people too. However, as much as one may loath it, they were much safer than psykers and to be treated like any other Imperial citizen.

Hearing Cudjal’s request, Dekker brings up her lascarbine, covering the back of the truck with a slightly wavering hand. She is muttering into her gasmask, too quiet and muffled to be intelligible, reciting a list of the dangers of the Armageddon jungles set to rhyme- a calming technique from her youth. “…rock wasps and rad-asps, sinking sand and ork traps…”

Ilona pointedly did not return the child's stare as she exited, noticing the truck a moment later and feeling a wave of unease pass over her. Her lips twisted in a snarl, the brutal training of Mordian coming to her aid as she steadied herself.

It was a truck. And it felt wrong. That was a Tuesday on Mordian.

The trooper moved forward, not even realizing that she was stalking, long strides eating up the ground between herself and Vernard at the driver's door. The others were clearly showing the same effects, this truck was odd, and she wanted to be in prime position to shoot the hell out of it should it turn out to be more than just odd.

She cleared her throat as she came up behind Vernard, the sound coming out more as a growl than anything else. A sign to him that he had at least one Ironguard watching his back as she glowered at the truck driver.

((Invoking Ilona's stunt "Iron Without" to push through the unease of the vehicle. Trucks aren't scary. Ilona is scary.))

"What's in the truck?"

Cudjal question was as blunt as the club he used for rats. Hopefully the answer would be as simple as his vocabulary. Observing the ID, everything seemed in order to him. If it wasn't for that throne forsaken feeling, this truck would be out of sight by now.

The growling from behind him made Cudjal tense up and pause. More out of instinct than fear. One had to tread carefully in the sewers. Looking over his shoulder, he relaxed as he realized it was Ilona. Her sneer reminded him of some of the faces first timers make in the underground tunnels. He held the card over his shoulder so she could have a good look of it herself. "See anything out of place?" Cudjal said, hoping an actual guard could pick up something he might of missed.

The Mordian’s lack of concern does nothing to alleviate Prue’s dread. All it serves to do is reinforce her notion that all Mordian’s are toy soldiers too uptight to have an ounce of self-preservation. Balls to that, Prue thinks, I’m not letting the first decent one of them I’ve met get killed.
Drawing herself up to her fullest height and squaring her shoulders, Dekker steps up next to Treston, ready to riddle the truck with lasbolts if it so much as rocks on its axles.

((Roll to get past the dread, +3 forceful result: 2. Bah))

“Transporting some people,” Corporal Castillo replied to Private Cudjal as he lightly tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in a small effort to keep them warm.

It was unknown if Specialist Treston heard the driver, but her auspex would indeed confirm that there were 6 lifeforms detected inside the truck, one being the driver. The unfeeling truck was not intimidated by Specialist Dekker’s display of bravado. Its aura continued to seem wrong to the Ork Hunter; almost taunting her.

When Trooper Bembenak spoke of how the truck seemed suspicious and may warrant a more thorough search, the Lucifer Black’s blue eyes froze on the Mordian for a moment before moving back to Cudjal.

“Suspicious?” he asked, “I get you don't see a hardshell every day, but suspicious?"