Warhammer 40K: Voyage of the Solar Drake

Good evening,

This is a forum roleplay story set in the world of the Warhammer 40K. This is the story of a cargo of civilians, prisoners, volunteers, and other assorted humans aboard the Rogue Trader vessel Solar Drake. You have been snatched up/conscripted/volunteered/whatever reason you choose and you have been chosen to settle a far off world beyond the edges of the Imperium's borders. All that you know is that it is in a place known as the Qantm sector. Imagine that you're kinda like the First Fleet venturing off to the unknown to settle a mysterious land.

The story will be taking place primarily aboard the confines of the Solar Drake, a Warp-capable heavy transport that contains approximately 20,000 crew and settlers and about 2 kilometres long. The journey to the Qantm sector may be long or it may be short, which I shall leave mostly in your hands. In addition, you may start your story with how you first became a denizen aboard the Solar Drake so be as creative as you want.

I will give guiding narrative every so often but otherwise I shall leave this the collective hands of anyone who wants to participate. Pretty much anything is fair game so go nuts with description or introducing new narrative elements.

Feel free to ask any questions that you want but I'll throw narrative in after everyone has introduced themselves.

Its Cold in here. 

There were very few things he knew, an that was chief among them. 

Where hear was, he did not know. Cargo-11B was written in faded paint, but it meant little to him.

Why he was at Cargo-11B was also a mystery. There were many people here, but they did not seem to be doing much. just waiting. Existing. 

He did not even know who he was. His name. 11-06 was labeled on his collar, but that did not sound like a name. 

He had spent some time watching the other people in the hold, trying to figure out what they were doing. He had learned things this way. 

The things that smelled nice also usually tasted nice, and made him less weary when he ate them. 

The liquids that smelled bad tasted worse, but made him less cold. 

And to get any of these things people wanted the shiny circles. The bigger the number on them, the more people wanted them.

He was not sure why they wanted them, but as best he could tell they were for a game.

The game with the dice.

Put in your circles, tell them the number they intend to roll, then roll that number.

He did not fully get them game, and why they did not just roll the number they chose, or choose the number they would roll... either way it was confusing why they got so mad when they chose different than the roll, and loose their circles.

Perhaps it was just a game that let the feel things. He did not feel much, not much more than cold or weary anyway. He was jealous of how playing the game with the dice could make them happy, even jealous how it could make them feel mad.  

Cold. Weary. Confused. Jealous. His life consisted of these for emotions. 

Mostly he just feat weary now. He needed more things that smell good. He only had a few circles left. He did not know where he got them, and so did not know how to get more.

Except perhaps the game. Could he play? he wasn't sure he knew how, or if they would let him. 

Only one way to find out, he thought. he had watched enough. 

He walked over to the table. "Got room for one more?" 

He had heard people say this when they join.

The players seemed to accept this, and invited him to join them.

He put down the last of his shiny circles, and said the number the next man would roll on the dice.

It was an Eight. 

For some reason the others said Seven and Two. 

He was suddenly nervous he had played it wrong. 

But the man rolled his Eight, and the others seemed surprised, but gave Him their Circles anyway. 

The group repeated the process, but this time the next man was going to roll a Seven, so He Said Seven, put in his circles, and waited for the man to roll. 

A Severn was rolled, He got the Circles. 

The other people seemed to think this was good, they congratulated him, even smiled and called him Lucky.

"Whats your name pal?" one of them asked. 

They called him Lucky? was that his name? No.. that made no sense... the man heard them call him that..

"My name..?" he uttered to the man.

Then, slowly, almost more an enlightenment to himself than to the man "Jeff. My name is Jeff."

A sound blarned throughout as the vox-arrays transmitted a message to the entirety of the vessel.

”All crew button down hatches. We’re getting ready to jump.”

There was a sudden commotion as ratings and other crew ran to their stations, activating huge cogitator arrays or hauling heavy cables and cords across the many decks of the vessel. It seemed the whole ship buzzed alive after this announcement and all of the thousands of crew leaped into action.

The cargo was mostly left alone, safe and secure in their holds as a few Orators took to their posts and began praising the servants of the Emperor, blessed and mighty is he. A number of the passengers bowed their head in quiet salutation while others knelt and clasped their hands and mimicked the words of the Orators. On and on they spoke of His grace and wisdom and how all men, women, and children served Him and His Imperium. They exalted His benevolence and prayed for His safety as they ventured into the blackness of the void.

The Solar Drake was tracking away from the planet of Soriasis, its last port of call before its odyssey. On the bridge, a sour-faced man gave the order that was repeated in the bowels of the ship, deeper than even the humming and firing of the plasma engines. The servants of the Omnissiah acknowledged his instruction and commenced the ritual to launch into the Warp. The warp drives spooled and called out with arcane technology and ancient power to the realm of the Immaterium. The final shutters were closed and the bridge was the last as the darkness of the void was replaced with the brutal grey of adamantium plating.

The Navigator’s den had been prepared with lavish furnishings and comforts as she took her station. Her attendants bowed before they abandoned her, as she reclined and gazed out into the void. Carefully, she unwrapped the bandages around her forehead as the warp drives made their connections with the darkness. Her third eye opened wide to absorb the full extent of the rift that had opened before the Solar Drake. It was a terrifying sight, where a myriad of colours clashed with each other and bled out into the vacuum of space. To her though, she saw the faint traces that they must follow and instructed the captain to move ahead. The captain, having taken his command chair, bellowed the order to his bridge staff and the ship slipped through the gateway before it began to wrestle against the ethereal tides. Foul creatures and beasts tried to grasp hold of the vessel but they were repelled by the ancient technology of the Gellar Field, and their inhuman shrieks rang out through the Immaterium.

The crew breathed a sigh of relief as they sensed that the jump had been successful. It was never anything less than uneasy in these times but, for the sake of their duty, they must be brave.

Their cargo knew not what had transpired. Their hold was cut off from all viewports out of the ship and they would remain oblivious to the enormity of their passage. The Orators and clergy completed their sermons and devotional hymns as the passengers returned to their pastimes and frivolous activities. It was approximately mid-afternoon on the ship while seconds and years danced past them outside the safe confines of their vessel. Few knew where they were journeying but all knew that they had been swept up in something bigger than their old lives.

Finally, they could serve the Emperor in something greater.

The repulsion of the warp jump had balanced, though the initial turbulence had successfully disrupted Moses' slumber. As he sat up, his travel journal and research documents had scattered to the floor. Moses pushed his designer glasses into place before assessing the mess and muttering to himself.

"An absolute bloody mess."

Moses was perched on one of the many stacks of equipment cases secured within his R&D team's VIP cargo hold. It was a drastic change from his research facility on his home planet, a Agri world turned metropolis center. However, it was better than the crowded hall below the gantries that connected his and the other Private holds of the rest of the ship.

Moses took to his feet and shuffled over to the makeshift refreshment station. A large bowl of water with a few linens, a small mirror and a collection of grooming utensils. Moses could be describe as rugged. His build was surprisingly athletic for a scholar, a result of one of his mantras 'a healthy body begets a healthy mind'. His dark thick brown hair was now a endearing but messy pompadours, which he attempted to tame before scratching at his stubble. He rubbed his teeth over with his tongue and then splashed his face with the now chilled water from the near by bowl.

Moses dried his face and stumbled back to his iron perch. He picked up his journal from the scholarly debris and liberated a scribes tool from his jacket pocket. He wrote down his thoughts, as concise as they were, after labeling the journal entry Day 8.

Day 8, still in the box and shit all has happened. Emperor be praised.

Moses dropped his book deliberately back in the pile of papers he had created earlier. He leaned back and kicked his feet up on another nearby stack. Once comfortable, he retrieved his data slate and began to go over his irrigation and sustainability research. Moses was interested in eliminating or at least drastically reducing the impacts of industrialization in natural environments. If he could find away to produce the same outputs as other Agri worlds with a fraction of the overheads using the technology available to the mechanicus, he would be known to untold billions galaxy wide.

Moses was perched on a stool, sitting at a work bench in front of several screens showing drafting schematics and data feeds. Moses removed his glasses and dropped them on the desk before rubbing his eyes. He had been researching for hours. He felt like it was the small hours of the morning, though there was no real way to tell when it was. It didn't really matter though, even if he did know the exact time it would only serve to compound his looming fatigue.

The lab equipment had been unpacked and set up for days now, and research had reached peak productivity. Moses wondered over to the kitchenette, a generous description for the collection of portable cookers and utensils strewn across the bench. Moses poured himself another cup of recaf and took a sip grimacing at the bitter lukewarm taste of his brown beverage. As he drank he looked over at his research team who had gone to sleep hours earlier. Joel and Fen had taken to napping against the empty creates and containers that once housed their equipment. Patrice was the only one to have actually taken the time to unpack and use her sleeping gear. She was across the room from them, with a her computer left idle displaying her last search. Moses polished off the last of his horrid drink and moved back to his stool. He mounted his chair once more and put his glasses on before trying to refocus.

Moses was working on a device, or rather a machine. One that could clean the air of of pollution, permanently extracting and distilling the adversities in the air into liquidized toxic waste. The project had many interested suitors willing to fund it, but the largest contributors were arms manufacturers that were interested in weaponising the toxic concentrate. Moses wasn't particularly proud of this, but the toxins would eventually be used for combat against the Imperium's enemies, a means to an ends if ever he saw one. What made his project particularly unique was the machine being create was capable of covering truly exception expanses of land, meaning a planet would technically only need four to six of these machines to make the air pure again.

Things were looking up for Jeff. The game with the Dice, Which he had learned was called 'Craps' had served him well. He had as many of the disks, referred to as "Crowns", as he could use. 

Jeff had also been introduced to other games from the group he began to play with. Winger, Solorian and Andolph. Jeff had become their man, they always placed bets in his favor, and the group was on the rise. 

The gambeling ring's had grown more stong wince the Solar Drake took to the warp. People needed distractions, and found them in any way they could. For some it was work, Some in deep prayer, but many many more flocked to Cargo Bay 11B. It had everything, if you had the Crowns. Fresh brewed Amasek, Meat that tasted almost exactly like Grox, and many things besides which were Forbidden by both the Imperial Creed and Ship-bound Mandate. 

Jeff felt more and more awake every cycle. New experiences and the companionship of a wide variety of people was making Jeff feel more and more alive each day. Best of all, he had begun to remember who he was. 

Jephorus Vomanov. Laborer on a planet called Kyrus. He used to serve someone he recalled only loosely as being of grand importance. Cant have been that important as Jeff could recall little else. He had no idea how he got from there to hear, and much else was still jumbled. Something had happened, The Large metal plate reconstructing much of his skull attested to that, and also apparently could explain why his memory's were so foggy. Amnesia some said. 

Still, he could remember more and more each day. And had decided this new life was far better than the last. The Emperor had given him a new chance, and he would take it. He went simply as Jeff, and was well known around Sub-Deck 11B. Life was good.