Drake's Stories

Rogue Trader: Drake Dynasty
GM
Adam
Dynastic Power
Character Level: 31,250 XP / Rank 8
Profit Factor: 43𝖕
Command Crew
Lord-Captain Drake Navigator Primus Mordecai Arch-Millitant Winter Astropath Solarus High Factorum August
House Drake Fleet
Aurea Albion Hound of Albion • Abhorrent Fortuitous Purpose • Penance of Iocanthos
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Schedules

Bunny reached out to take an empty keg for tea and data slate from her large and rumbling superior. She nimbly slid the data slate under an arm and wrangled the tea keg onto a serving platter with grace that belied strength.

A little strength was useful when one assisted a Space Marine. She continued with her announcements while he sipped from a fresh keg of ale.

“Also, the Lord-Captain is requesting your presence at supper once more.”

Winter nodded in return. “Please inform him I will be there presently.” He stood, taking his tankard with him as he walked out the door, grabbing a belt with a sheathed chainsword and bolt pistol as he made his way to the Captain’s Table.

His vox-caster gave a silent buzz.

- - - - - - - - - -

Catyaina Curiatia toyed with the stick in her beverage, watching the juice come out of an unknown but delicious fruit. The fruit was the dish of the week. Harvested from the world the Aurea Albion had last visited, the damned fruit was a star of every dish presented.

Catyaina hated it, but would never say as such.

“Come on, I’ve never really asked you because I was too scared about it. What it is it like then, being with him all of the time?” The eager question came from across the table, an early friend made aboard ship.

Focusing on the fruit spoiling her drink gave her a few moments to consider her words. The question, fortunately, was one lobbed at her a lot. She wanted a response that would keep her friend intrigued but was still surefire to disappoint.

“I don’t see everything that the Lord-Captain does during his day, I mean, I’m here now, right?”

The two laughed. Catryaina continued. “But… it is my profession to see a majority of it. He keeps a schedule.”

The face across the table was flabbergasted. “We have a god amongst us mere mortals, and all you can say is he keeps a schedule?”

“He keeps a schedule.”

The remembrancer’s vox-caster chirped. Her friend looked at her.

“Some schedule, Cat.”

- - - - - - - - - -

The Rogue Trader Drake was not keeping his schedule and he was thoroughly upset.

He was just not operating at optimal levels.

More specifically, the Lord-Captain was favoring his right shoulder, which was tight inexplicably, leading to a need for more careful stretching, an alternate exercise plan, and approximately 3.712 more minutes added onto his evening workout program.

In short, he was incensed, and loathed his body.

This necessitated doing his cool down while hearing the evening report from his first officer prior to bathing, which was unbecoming. Not that any of this showed to his first officer. Or, if it did, he certainly didn’t remark on it.

First Officer Fitzwilliam stood in the reception salon of Drake’s quarters, an impressive scene in wood and silk damask. While the two were of similar age, and Fitzwilliam could get quite familiar in tone, the man still stood properly to give his report.

Drake didn’t want to touch, let alone sit on the furniture in the salon in his state, but knew standing would be off-putting. While Fitzwilliam spoke, Drake gingerly leaned his hip ever so slightly on the back of a chaise. He mentally scrolled through various positions for his arms that would convey attentiveness and settled for a benign pose.

“…those are operating fully and retraining has been scheduled for the crew. I’m sorry sir, the Balistum are still exploring a few possibilities for the cause of the fire.”

Drake waved a hand. “It’s better to be thorough than have incomplete data.”

“Of course, sir. It would be improper to jump to a hasty conclusion.” Fitzwilliam paused. “Oh, I don’t know if it was relayed to you yet, but the Chief of the Adiutrix is celebrating the early birth of his firstborn. They are moving the celebration dinner accordingly to tonight. The other chiefs will be in attendance.”

Drake stirred from his careful perch, a few emotions going through his body. One was clear, a further frustration as he would need to change plans even further. The second, he assumed, was some sort of empathy for the clan chief, and an unknown sinking feeling accompanied it. He filed these to process later. He spoke, informing both his First Officer and the nearby staff who would likely follow out the orders.

“Most excellent. Inform the Adiutrix of our attendance. I assume this may take an unknown quantity of time and I will not be available for the evening inspection on the bridge. Send invitation to Brother Winter and Void-Master Tacticus to attend me at dinner this evening. It might be entertaining - send for Cat, as well. Fitz, after inspection and drill, you may pass your duties and report to the event.”

“Very well, sir. Thank you sir.”

Drake again scrolled through options to settle on something befitting his first officer. Ah, of course:

“Oh nonsense, Fitz. You should be there and toast the child. Come have a drink.”

First Officer Fitzwilliam grinned. “Of course sir, to the good health of the babe.”

“Dismissed.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Drake’s bathing was not all that refreshing. He went quickly and through much of the motions in a blur to catch up on lost time rather than any usual fastidiousness. He was still troubled by his emotions from earlier, but equally knew they wouldn’t be solved. Perhaps to the household staff he looked a little more brooding or serious.

He also had chosen a militaristic coat for the evening, which cut a little more severely. The garment was similar to ones worn by the officers, which would command respect from the clan known for their valor and defense of the little realm that was their ship.

However, Drake left off much of the ribbons and cording, wearing his weapons and only a Badge of the Dragon, the symbol of his own membership in the crew clan system as Chief of Clan Draconis, current members onboard: one. Total: two. Or three?

Drake did not want to count further extensions, the ones that might inherit in the same vein he did should he perish, nor shipboard bastards long removed from the succession. It was not that he did not wish to address the danger he regularly put himself in. Rather, it was acknowledging that the dynasty came to him, he embodied the dynasty, and most importantly, full acceptance of the idea that was once so challenging to embrace: that rebuilding and succeeding was Acanthus Reginald Drake’s fated purpose.

It was that sense of purpose that fueled his stride leaving the Lord-Captain’s apartments - a mansion of suites that had also once felt completely alien but were now home. That purpose fueled careful nods of acknowledgement to the staff who fell in line to accompany him. That purpose turned to pride seeing the officers posted outside his doors snap to attention as he passed.

Drake had created the time in his schedule to make a slower progress through the ship, able to greet his crew along the way. Laying burdens of the mind aside, Drake stepped into a role he was trained for from birth and smiled.

And then he remembered. Crap. It was his own fault, but he smiled nonetheless. Drake inclined his head to issue an order over his shoulder.

“Someone please inform Void-Master Tacticus, Brother Winter, and my remembrancer that dinner is not at my table this evening.”

Documentarium

THE LORD-CAPTAINS APARTMENT

Drake is positioning himself on a suffah. The suffah is a pale - not faded - mint silk with gleaming wood on the arms. It is accented by deep blue tufted pillows and a silver knit throw of unknown substance or origin. The Rogue Trader Himself is clean shaven although his hair is growing out roguishly. He wears a light and well-worn cream turtleneck and grey leggings. He is also still armed, with twin plasma pistols on each hip. He adjusts a vocorder and as he settles he comes into clear focus. He gives a smile. Blue-green eyes flash.

DRAKE Catya? Is this good? Does it sound alright?

CURIATIA Yes. It is functioning well and I am receiving you.

DRAKE Good, good. Um… Um. What should I tell you?

CURIATIA About your life before. Or now. Or why you want me to record these things.

DRAKE Yes. Good. Hello there, future and unknown. A while back I hired Catyaina Curiatia as a way of telling my name and story to others, as no one knew it. Those who knew the name Drake knew it as a dead house, but it lives on. If you are in the future listening or watching or reading these words, then you will know how this came to pass from the Drake Dynasty being on the brink of failure with one remaining heir to… to I hope something greater than that. Much greater. I needed Catya in the moment to spread my -perhaps our - name and story. To gain support, reputation, and loyalty. Now she will help tell it for posterity.

CUT TO ADIUTRIX HALL

A man of bulk, both in his own girth as well as protective armour and swathes of stiffened cloth and hide fills the frame. His hair is close cropped and he bears old facial scarring under a well maintained auburn beard. He also sports an elaborate roundel with a sigil that marks him as the Chief of Clan Adiutrix]

THE ADIUTRIX Ah didna think much of the lad when he came aboard. ‘Ees a scrawny fella, see, an jus’ a lad. Wha would ‘ee know of the life aboard, or commandin’? ‘Ee changed mah mind, ‘ee did, when th’ treasonous bastard an’is ilk mouthed off in fron’ of everyone. ‘Ee showed ‘is mercy by killing ‘im ‘imself ‘n’ brandin’ all the followers with his sigil, offerin’ tha lot a chance a redeption for their damned foolishness.

External Note: Edit segments to fit, continue finding clips of interviews to include for initial impressions of the Rogue Trader Drake to establish his rise from Ryza to command authority over the Dynasty. Choose appropriate diction and when to let their words speak and when to use voice-over narration using footage from early events in His company.

UNKNOWN PRIVATE QUARTERS, AUREA ALBION

Drake in close-up. The background is of rich velvet drapery. He is wearing some sort of dark fur or pelt cloak. His hair is shorter than the introduction clip.

DRAKE Like you, I was contacted by Felix, too. This place can - and does - run itself. It is a city- a tiny world unto itself. It has it’s clans, and councils. But it has been without guidance and goals for an age. They’ve kept hope for my return and I d-

The footage jump cuts but to the same shot.

DRAKE It was fortunately timed. Felix came to present the Warrant of Trade to me - thankfully just a copy - just as a band of troublemakers came for my assassination. We made work of them in defense as the Arbites came. I was starting to panic because of getting caught up in the law. When they came, Felix whispered to me to introduce myself as the Rogue Trader Drake and showed the Warrant - and that our problems would go away. That was… that was my first real sense of having the power and authority of this position. Even as a captain or with noble upbringing I was a teenager and of no importance, from a forge world. I was expecting to need to hash things out and argue or charm my way out of trouble- because it was my trouble. Those words changed everything: ‘I am the Rogue Trader Drake, and I will see to this at my convenience.’

CUT TO BRIDGE OF THE AUREA ALBION

One gets the feeling of being in an extended mezzanine or choir loft of a great cathedral. Buttresses soar upwards out to the distance and marble slabs and illumined glass provide light between. Unlike a choir or organ loft, or even a pulpit, the bridge projects outwards allowing for room and movement, and the stone railing projects and curves outwards. If one were to stand at the front edge, however, one would have the commanding voice and presence of an ecclesiarch addressing the masses.

Administers and officers come and go passing documents and reports to a center table, at which some individuals can be seen. Blocking the view is a large standing individual, clearly an astartes. He is at rest. The person at the head can not be seen from behind his glorious bulk or yardage of cloth. He is a member of the Star Knights, from the emblems on his robes. Visible to one side is a clear member of the Mechanicum, a female tech-priest with a mechadendrite arm; an explorator. To the side is a man in robes. His head is bald and completely scarred. Standing is a tall, lithe, and equally bald man with a delicately and intricately wrought mask; the navigator. Others in officers’ uniforms of high rank are at the sides as well. The navigator speaks.

MORDECAI It will take us a week to get there.

[The bald man rolls his head and one can see his eyes are completely black.]

SOLARUS Sight of your light is weak when it is always a ‘week.’

MORDECAI That light is how we get anywhere and I say it will be a week!

DRAKE “A week in the warp is fine. One never knows what time passes on the other side so there is no use in bickering. Barring an incursion and dinner invitations, what do you have for the week?”

DRAKE's voice comes from in front of the astartes. The astartes speaks with a voice only possible from the resonance of a large fused chest and strong diaphragm.

WINTER I’ve come up with what I think may serve as a regular training schedule for the various House forces and wish to test it out. Regular exercises to get in shape, laps, maintenance and training with the new weaponry, and simulated skirmishes as a goal. I will also clean my own armour. It needs some adjustment.

DRAKE Of course, Winter.

DOMINICA I could adjust it for you, Brother Winter.

WINTER No.

DRAKE What is it you have planned, Dominica?

DOMINICA Deconstructing my prize. I want to see it’s glorious innards and what makes the tech tick.

DRAKE Fantastic. We all have our jobs to do. See that this gets to Captain Aizdar before we go, Solarus. Dinner at the table is of course open invite for you all, but I will be with the clan chiefs tomorrow so you’ll be on your own. Thank you for the week Mordecai.

There is a pause in conversation. While not dismissed, it is a chance for any last business. The Star Knight stirs.

WINTER I will take my leave then.

DRAKE Of course - ah! Who is this behind- Are you Catyaina Curiatia? Welcome aboard, glad you made it to the bridge!

Drake comes forward to formally bow and then informally lead the viewer closer to the table. He wears a long coat with a single plasma pistol.

DRAKE Solarus, you’ll have to send a message to Felix that she’s arrived safely. You have arrived safely, haven’t you? Good. Allow me to introduce-

CUT TO THE LORD -CAPTAINS DINING ROOM

New footage shows A.R. Drake. He is at a table of warm and richly polished wood. Two crystal goblets are set out, filled with dark amber liquid. Light is provided for by several taper candles on the table, just beginning to dribble, and mirrors on the wall. Placemats for two are still on the table, but no dishes. Drake’s hair is noticeably longer than the other two clips, just brushing the dark blue silk and leather of his shoulder.

DRAKE I knew thought about things differently than my peers. I considered things more and asked questions when I wasn’t supposed to. I was given an education, and put on a special coursework with others like me and I wondered what that would lead to. I saw I was intelligent and charismatic but that Mechanicus society - especially on a forge world - would not value this.

CURIATIA So you were part of it but also part out-of-place?

DRAKE Yes. When I was old enough, I wasn’t allowed to take augmentation, not even the most basic modifications for connectivity or beautification. Oh, I did question this, with some teenage anger, but I found solace in the advice of faith, that there would be a reason revealed in time, and to trust in my superiors. That’s hard as a questioning teen but I tried.

CURIATIA I get the feeling there were other things you questioned.

Jump Cut to: same shot.

DRAKE From an early age, I knew my parents were not my own. I was told I was loved, and that there was a home for me always on Ryza. But that implied I might leave. It implied I was different.

CURIATIA Did you have a sense you were different, Acanthus?

There is a distinct pause. A.R. Drake looks pained.

DRAKE Catya.

CURIATIA Did you know early, then?

DRAKE I knew I cared for some of my friends differently, but-

Jump cut to: same shot.

DRAKE -I hurt a friend. I questioned myself deeply.

External Note: Perhaps he can be found, or at least what happened to him. Don’t share unless confirmed, and be discreet: Drake still sends messages back to his adoptive parents to show he is on his destined course set out by the Omnissiah, that his life is on its proper path of directed motion and he is beginning to… understand things. I really must ask him more about what this means.

CUT TO SMALLER CHAPEL ABOARD THE ALBION

A man in robes of the Imperial Cult. He is white-haired with a gentle demeanor.

BISHOP RAPHAEL DECARTO I thought I had retired! I returned home to the Albion and was just settling in when the God-Emperor delivered us the young Draconis! Yes! Lad cannot help being cared for and secreted amongst the Mechanicum, but they did keep him alive and safe! He could’ve been more… odd.. Or adamant, but a dragon is flexible and wise- not just powerful. He has been receptive to my own administrations that work well aboard the Aurea Albion. We should get along just fine.

CUT TO THE LORD -CAPTAINS DINING ROOM

Drake is resettled and leaning back in his chair. The glasses have been refilled with a light, gold flecked liquid.

CURIATIA But then you came of age.

DRAKE And could not enter the occupations available within the Mechanicum for an individual of my station. I was shown a glimpse of my ordained path: I was given instructions to voyage out and seek lost archaeotech for the Mechanicum. This, they explained, would fit my ambition, skill set, charisma for working with other people, and would be a culmination of my education and knowledge to date. The Mechanicum needs people who could work with and lead others, to interact with the outside world, and harness their ambition. For the first time, I felt like my ordained place had been revealed and like I was doing what I was supposed to in life. I began to enjoy the success of beginning a quest and it would be good.

CURIATIA How long did that last?

DRAKE Not long. The close calls started. Then the close calls became clearly attempts at murdering me. The pattern became clearly one of assassination, though I did not comprehend why. Then one came close to succeeding and hit me upside the head.

Drake knocks on his skull

DRAKE It was a concession granted by my adoptive parents: a replacement and reinforced adamantium skull. Anything to help keep me alive. To protect the rest of me, a personal shield was the answer. The event restored questions in my now protected brain: Why am I not like others? Why am I treated so unusually? More importantly, why are people trying to kill me?

Then I met Felix, who saved me and gave me truth.

CUT TO PRIVATE QUARTERS WITH VELVET DRAPES, AGAIN

A.R. Drake in front of the velvet drapes again. His face is angry and stern. He looks incredibly older when fuming-

DRAKE She’s beautiful and they wanted to scrap her! They were going to sell her bit by bit for gambling and sex and booze and drugs and Emperor knows what vices. She is not some derelict. She’s a living breathing ship with a living breathing crew.

CURIATIA A living breathing ship?

Drake is grinning broadly. He now looks incredibly young when grinning like an idiot

DRAKE Of course she is! She has her own Spirit. You can feel her hum and purr! She has a temperament all her own. She’s incredibly old and wise and… and ready for action. You know she handles better when there’s impending action? She’ll chase them down. She knows what she was built for. It’s still in her steel and stone bones. She knows what to do and dammit, she knows we’re back.