This is the lore from a 2025 warhammer crusade I took part in. My army was Imperial Agents, led by a Rogue Trader named Emberlyn Driftwood. It was an uphill battle, but I had a lot of fun with it.

In the grimdark void of space, distant stars stared at the voidship emerging into reality once more through a purple vortex crackling with dark energy. The light cruiser had just passed 350 years old, with the battle scars to prove it. The Illustrious Vexation had passed through several hands throughout the centuries, and now found itself in the possession of the Driftwood Dynasty, led by a Rogue Trader of the Imperium.

Rogue Traders were freelance explorers, conquerors and interstellar merchants for the imperium of man. They each possessed a Warrant of Trade – a rare and ancient hereditary writ which allowed them to travel freely within the Imperium and beyond. It also allowed them to interact with the non-imperium and xenos in any way in which they saw fit, with no legal consequences. In other words, the Warrant of Trade let Rogue Traders do whatever they wanted. The Driftwood Dynasty’s Warrant of Trade remained securely sealed deep in the vaults of the Illustrious Vexation.

The bulkheads of the light cruiser moaned under the stress of the return to real space. The latest warp jump had invoked an especially dire demonic incursion on board, the ship was heavily damaged and the crew capacity was down to 30% – barely enough to keep vital systems running. To keep morale up and to save her ship, the Rogue Trader herself went into the depths of her ship, to kick, maim and kill the Blood Thirsters on board. Consecrated flames had cleansed the rest of the heresy.

Back on the scorched command deck, Rogue Trader Emberlyn Driftwood rotated her golden captain’s chair endlessly as she awaited a report from her senior crew. It was taking a long time to compile a report which would essentially end up saying ‘Gellar Field failure, demons wrecked the ship and ravaged the crew’. Incompetent, the lot of them. Things would have to change around here.

“My ladyship, Illustrious Rogue Trader Emberlyn of House Driftwood. I have news,” her Voxmaster said, kneeling before the throne. Using her full title. My, my – he was apologetic.

Emberlyn tapped her nails on the arm of her chair, enough times to make the poor man squirm. “Finally. I was beginning to think I would have to extend my life unnaturally by pledging myself to demonic forces. And we all know how that would go down. Do we want more demon forces to breach the bulkheads?”

The Voxmaster adjusted his uniform. “No captain…. My ladyship.”

“Get on with it then.”

“The ship has taken extensive damage and repairs will take several months, even if we activate our stock of back-up servitors and find a reputable space-dock. It also appears that we have arrived in an undiscovered system. We will know more once our Auspex comes back online.”

“Is that all?” Emberlyn asked, noticing the twitch in his eyes. It must be tough to be the bearer of bad news, but alas, that was the life of the Voxmaster.

“There is one more thing which requires your immediate attention, my lady. We’ve received an encoded message of Imperium origin. I’ve never seen these codes before, but perhaps you have?”

Emberlyn slipped out of her chair and snatched the datapad from her Voxmaster’s hand. “Ordo… Oh shit… An Inquisitor requesting aid. The last thing I need is an inquisitor sniffing around.”

“My ladyship, should I assume we scrub the logs of all-”

“No,” Emberlyn interrupted. “I could use an indebted inquisitor. I can make this work.” 

“Should I get the crew battle-ready, my ladyship?” the Voxmaster asked. “Just in case?”

“Yes. As I always say – expect the worst, do the worst. If we run into a military vessel, we can salvage it for spare parts. If it’s civilian, we recruit the crew. The lower decks need more hands since the incident. If it’s a trap, which it often is… we shall show them what our macro-cannon can do,” Emberlyn said.

“Then I shall send the message to focus repairs on the Gellar Field and macro-cannon, my ladyship” The Voxmaster said, spinning on his heel.

With that, the Illustrious Vexation approached the unknown passage of space ahead.

*

The Rogue Trader went to visit her voidsmen-at-arms, who had valiantly fought off demons during their last stint in the Warp.They stood in the training barracks, which were still under repairs.

“How long have you served the Driftwood Dynasty, Voidsman? And… by His Name – is that a… dog?” Rogue Trader Emberlyn asked the voidsman-at-arms, who was standing nervously in front of her. To him, getting visited by the Rogue Trader herself, was akin to getting visited by royalty.

There were in fact three hounds the voidsmen-at-arms were currently training: a white canid named Fenton, a spotted mystery-hound named Doo, and the last one was a cyber-mastiff named Preston. 

Woof. the white canid barked. It then, very enthusiastically, wagged its tail. Certainly not aggressively enough.

“But it’s not very… exotic is it?” Emberlyn commented, comparing the canid it to the glorious cyber-mastiff in her view. “Unless it secretly is. Perchance, how would it fare against a Kroot Hound?” Emberlyn asked.

“It – ah…” the voidsman stuttered. “It probably wouldn’t, my lady.”

“How do you know, though?” Emberlyn asked. Curious to see how viciously the canid could devour its foes.

“This is Fenton 14,” the voidsman answered.”

Emberlyn knelt down and petted the good boy on its head. Perhaps it just needed some time on the battlefield to harden it up a bit. “There are more Fentons?”

“Not quite, my ladyship.”

“Then what happened to Fenton 1 through 13?”

The voidsman swallowed. “Kroot Hounds.”

“Oh.”