Fioncail and the Wise-but-dangerous-fool

Fioncail was one of the finest of us.  A dedicated servant of the Eldar people both in life and beyond. He walked the Path of the Seer for many days but sorrow had long walked beside him. The grief he felt for the lost was founded in great compassion towards those who had passed beyond physical life. So it was that he was drawn to walk the path of the Spiritseer, crossing the bridge between life and death.

Some said that Fioncail had not fully hardened his own soul against the danger of becoming too enthralled by his command over the dead and thus was on the verge of using his knowledge for darker deeds.  Others say that his loss was so great that he simply found greater comfort in the company of souls than the living. Whatever the true reasoning, whether to punish him as an outcast or simply to fulfil his desire for solitude the Spiritseer was charged with a great task.

Away from the travel routes of the younger races lay a barren, airless world. Upon that world an ancient enemy had laid deadly secrets which we could not leave unguarded. However, for fear of corruption, or eventual physical failing, it had been determined by Seer Council of Craftworld Kaelor that the world would not be protected by the living, but by Wraithguard. Thereby, even in death, they might provide eternal protection from the evils contained in that place.

Thus was Fioncail sent in a Ghostship to orbit that place, tending to the souls there and giving them solace while we believe he too found the exile he sought.

That was, of course, until the arrival of the Mon-keigh.

The first to come were raiders, servants of the Ruinous Powers and beast-like in their savagery and passions. How they found the place Fioncail did not know but he knew his duty and commanded his ship to engage them in battle.  No sooner had he done so but another Mon-keigh vessel entered the fray.

This was a somewhat larger ship of the kind used by the worshippers of their machine-god and as soon as it had translated from the warp it discharged weapons upon Fioncail's vessel. The Spiritseer was faced with a battle on two fronts but he knew the cost was he to fail.

Engaging all the foes before him the Spiritseer struck valiantly with all the powers at his disposal but it was ultimately of no use.  While he did cripple a second of the Chaotic ships, the later arrival, a vessel we would come to learn was owned an operated by the fickle Mon-keigh privateers known to them as "Rogue Traders", breached the hull of the Ghostship and boarded it. The pirates ransacked through the ship, tearing and despoiling as if they too were worshippers of the Chaos powers. They were led by one of the warrior-freaks that often act as their vanguard; an "As-tar-tes". They committed such sacrilege, and gave so many final deaths to Souls within the ship's Infinity Matrix, that the laments and sorrows on Kaelor when hearing of the news lasted for many, many cycles. 

Eventually the raiders fled to count their loses, the Ghostship was crippled and the Rogue Trader remained, victorious more by fortune than by skill. Fioncail was trapped, sealed as a prisoner within his own ship.  The pirates retreated but it wasn't long before the Spiritseer detected new emissaries approaching from the Mon-keigh cruiser.  This time they were salvage crews come to tear what little remained of the cruiser apart for their own aims and careless of the souls aboard. With a heavy heart, almost broken in grief and outrage at the conduct of these barbarians Fioncail took as many souls as he could and escaped, heading to the planet surface.

Once there he discovered that the Rogue Trader had not been idle. Not only had crews been sent to ransack the remains of the Ghostship but they had also been sent to the planet itself, straight to the complex he was tasked to protect.

Thankfully the eternal Wraithguard had not shirked in their duties and were already engaged with the invaders. The battle was looking lost until Fioncail arrived, lending his powers to the ghost warriors and turning the tide. He must have seemed a fearsome sight to the Mon-keigh, standing before them, arms aloft, psychic energies arcing through the air around him, charged by his grief to become wrath personified.

The barbarians were falling before him.  They were laid low by his power and by the anger and vengeance within his heart.  The Wraithguard tore through their forces as if they were mere wisps of smoke in the haze of the evening. The slaughter was manifest and within his soul Fioncail could hear the rapture of Kaela Mensha Khaine.

Then the leader of the Mon-Keigh, the one they called Captain Darien, who is known to us as the Wise-and-dangerous-fool, spoke up. Cutting through the tumult of battle he spoke to Fioncail by name. He, a Mon-keigh trader and pirate captain had read the runes of that place, both our runes of warning and warding and the ancient words we sought to protect the universe from, and he understood. He told Fioncail of places and things that he could not know and wisdom that should not have been shared and the fighting ceased.

Then the forces of Chaos, their noses bloodied before so now in great force, returned to claim the prize they desired.

Before them Eldar and Mon-Keigh stood together united against the Ruinous Powers, but that is another tale.   

Prelude

With a grinding of gears and squeal which, had his audio bafflers not auto-compensated, would have set the teeth he no longer owned on edge, the enormous ceramite and iconite door before Wyndame worked its way open. The visible mechanism was typical of designs of the Adeptus Mechanicus; great chromed and bronzed cogs and leavers spinning and hinging in overly theatrical movements, functionally opening the gateway to the inner sanctum but also impressing all witnesses with the glory of the Machine God and his works.

If Wyndame still had the capacity to sneer he would.

Smoke billowed out of the grand chamber beyond the doorway, clinging to the wrought steel deck plates. Wyndame was alone on the walkway, as the Master always wished it. He shuffled forward, away from the harsh fluorescence of the deck lights on their midday cycle and into the gloom of the room before him. Nasal filters immediately compensated for the copious smoke and incense. Analysis data scrolled across Wyndame’s eye implant HUD generating an audible tut from beneath his hood. A heady mix of opiates and “enhancers” today.  That meant the Master would be in one of his “moods”.

As the Master’s Seneschal Wyndame was his right hand; acting as major domo, counsellor, facilitator, administrator, accountant and ambassador. Over the years the Master had become increasingly reclusive and engaged within his studies leaving more and more matters in Wyndame’s manipulator appendages. That, however, was acceptable. The Seneschal was conditioned to obey and to serve as he had for decades before then but obedience still permitted a sense of resignation to one’s fate, occasional frustration at weakness  or illogical behaviours and frequent recognition of open folly. Especially when it came to the MasterMaster and his fanciful notions.

The doors to the chamber ground closed, their immense size making a grand and impressive clang as they met and sealed in place.  Impressive for the first few dozen times, perhaps, but to the jaded figure who now slowly approached the central dais they had long since lost all gravitas.

With his image intensifying optics compensating for the smoke and vapour from the brass incense burners and braziers that surrounded the centre of this vast room Wyndame could see the Master was furtively scribbling. To the left a dictation servitor was desperately trying to right itself after seemingly having been knocked down from the dais. It’s typography limbs singularly inefficient at any task other than transcription.

The Seneschal made two vocalisations in an approximation of coughs.  The Master continued his manic activity.

“M’lud?” Wyndame finally spoke. Still no obvious recognition. With a visible shrug (had there been any witnesses paying him attention) Wyndame started to drag himself up the steps of the dais but stopped suddenly as the master sat bolt upright and then whipped around to face him. The Seneschal was stuck by the fact that the Master looked more composed and in command of his faculties than he had seen him for a very long time.  “Oh dear” was his immediate thought.

Wordlessly, the Master slowly stood. Using his baroque style, bionic arm with golden filigree to dust crumbs and specks from his velvet breaches, he picked a dainty kerchief from the baroque style writing desk with golden filigree and started, in vain, to try to slowly wipe the ink stains from his still-human hand.

Wyndame remained paused. His augmented subprocessors hastily checked for viable response options but every behaviour selection previously utilized in engagements with the Master was evaluated to now carry disproportionate risk.  Silence to, for as long as this had now been, carried with it similar risk. A further audio output was increasingly necessary.

“M’lud, why are you troubling yourself so? Was the servitor malfunctioning?”

The Master’s gaze was still fixed on Wyndame.

He spoke. “Too slow.” He placed the ineffective and now only slightly ink stained cloth back on the desk.

“But Master that has never been an issue before.  It represents a significantly valuable model in terms of invested Thrones and was always satisfactory until now. Would you like the Magos to…”?

“No. Enough. Too slow now. Too much to do, too much to say.  It couldn’t keep up you see.  Was just in the way so I had to get it out of the way and do it myself, do you see? Things are happening, things are changing and it’s all becoming important again, do you see?”

Oh dear, oh dear.  Thought Wyndame. That’s it then, the years of wandering around and exploring, monitoring and measuring are done. His behavioural buffers and conditioning routines were suddenly under more pressure than they had been for some time.

"Why are you here though? Did I send for you?”

“Yes, Master, well no Master, not specifically.” Do you see what you have done? Wynadme thought, you are making me flustered.  I am never flustered. This is your doing.

“Out with it Wyndame, this isn’t like you.”

No, it wasn’t.

“Master, you wished for me to tell you when the probes and survey data was received.”

“Did I?” Oh dear…there was a gleam in the eye there, an almost perceived smile. He knows, by the Throne of Mankind, he knows, but I don’t know how.

“Have you seen the data Master?”

“No.  But you know I know what it says.”

“Master?”

“I was right, wasn’t I? My visions were correct.  I have seen it”

“Well Master, there is much to be confirmed and the data is only the preliminary scans. There is a significant margin of error, especially at this distance.”

“But? Say it”

“Say what, m’lud?” Wyndame was increasingly the furtive one now.

“Tell me how correct I was.  What have we found.”

The Seneschal fell back on what was safe, what was secure, what was reliable.  He started to recite the precis report summary in a monotone;

“At 249 days Standard 101.M42 a rogue asteroid with a mean diameter of 423 clicks, entered the current system at a speed of…”

“No!” the Master interrupted. “What IS it? What does it look like?”

“M’lud…” Wyndame was back to his usual, vocoder tinged voice.  He hated this. “…it looked a lot like a head.”

“Whose head?”

“Well, Master that data is subjective and..”

“Whose?”

“Some might liken it to a facsimile of the likness given to approximations of the mortal visage of the individual recognised within the Imperium of Mankind as his holiness the God-Emperor...”

“Told you.” The Master, a beaming smile on his face and exuding an enormous sense of victory and self-satisfaction, sat back down in his desk chair with a lump. “And now it begins… Again. Not that it ever really ended. "

“M’ud?”

With a sudden burst he was on his feet again and with a dramatic flourish he pointed up to the ceiling and the huge vista view ports that gave an unparalleled view of the stars, and the rip in reality that tore through them.

“Set sail man! All engines to full! And gather our chosen ones…you have a job for them…”

Klyto, High Factorum of the Majestic Labour

In the last post I waffled on about creating memorable NPCs so I thought I'd post an example of one of the charactesr who inhabits the Majestc Labour.

When it was clear non of the players were intending to run a Senschal I thought it would be worthwhile to have an interesting character as the High Factorum.  To create him I used the modified Origin path from Into the Storm.  Just glancing over it I came across the Unnatural Origin - "False Man" entry. Now I'd already established in my mind that our captain is a Xenophile and that he's had multiple dealings with alien races.  He keeps a menagerie of alien flora and fauna and the ship is kitted out to host aliens ads well as containing Xenos components.  My mind then flicked back to the Stryxis and their "meat" - how they can even vat grow humanoids to order....What if our captain felt he needed a completely trust worthy major domo to handle his affairs, someone "perfect" for the job?  There were elements in the Imperium who would consider some of his activities "radical" at best and highly heretical at worst, it would be difficult to recruit a suitable candidate (perhaps he's tried in the past and had to have them "removed"...), so why not create one? He'd had no qualms about giving a detailed specification to the Stryxis and ordering a unique and capable "piece of meat". Thus Klyto began to take shape as a concept.
I wracked my head for comparable "major domo" characters in fiction, someone I could parody or act as a touch stone to help the players lock on to the concept. I'd already got Brian Blessed as my captain so his work in Flash Gordon was fresh in my mind - immediately I thought of Ming the Merciless' right hand man; Klytus.  The imagery of the mysterious masked and robed figure with the sarcastic and ascerbic wit was ideal.  The name was tweaked to reflect the origin and our High Factorum was "born".

As Klyto has only once removed his mask in the presence of the players (Session #18) his origin and nature was maintained as a mystery until then. All the players really knew was that he had the complete trust of the Captain and he seemed to openly dislike and try to inhibit, put down and back bite Darien. He even openly used Dungoff's complete lack of subtly and deciet to get full details of the Explorer's activities, rewarding him with "shiny" Ork weapons and trinkets. He's also alluded to Darien being the latest in a line of heirs, all of which have met with gruesome ends until now.  

Klyto generally acts dismissvely towards the players, unless he can use or exploit them (in the case of Dungoff) or has to deal with them as part of his duties (Darien). In those cases he is critical, condescending and sarcastic.  In short he's great fun to play :)


Klyto, False Man and High Factorum and Master of Whispers aboard the Majestic labour

Profile
WS 30 BS 40 S 27 T 30 Ag 38 Int 48 Per 40 WP 46 Fel 34
Movement: 3/6/9/18
Wounds: 10
Corruption Points:0
Insanity Points: 11
Skills:Awareness, Barter, Commerce, Common Lore (Underworld), Deceive, Evaluate, Forbidden Lore (Archeotech), Inquiry, Literacy, Navigation (), Pilot (), Speak Language (Low Gothic, Ship Dialect, Trader's Cant), Trade (Voidfarer)
Talents: Basic Weapon Training (Las, Launcher, Melta, Plasma, SP, Bolt), Pistol Weapon Training (Las, Launcher, Melta, Plasma, SP, Bolt), Ambidextrous, Autosanguine, Chem Geld, Rival (Rogue Trader, Nobility)
Traits: Charmed, Ill-omened, Void Accustomed, Loyalty, Seeker of Lore,
Role: High Factotum

Making memorable NPCs

Back in days of yore, when I was young and, in all likelihood, you were even younger (if you were even born...), the main RPG I ran was Marvel Superheroes Advanced by TSR (now Wizards of the Coast). At the time the company's house magazine was "Dragon" and while I wasn't a big D&D player I'd often fork out the cash to get it for ideas, especially if there was a Marvel related article.

One particular article, which I cut out and kept* to this day was all about making memorable NPCs.  The arguement was simple - the players could potentially meet hundreds of concerned citizens, scientific experts, pushy cops etc all of which could be cookie cutter stereotypes and easily forgotten but a simple way to lift your game above the usual is it make those pieces of mobile scenery or plot vehicles memorable.  I took this to heart and personally I use the following as simple benchmarks:

1. Use memorable names - Stan Lee used alliteration when he named characters simply to help him remember his own creations names, if that works for you, great! Personally I tend to use plays on words (often I'm the only one who gets the joke...) or a reference to the role the character plays or some other aspect of the character. e.g the Chief Vox Officer aboard the Majestic Labour is Chief Piel, named in honour of one of the most memorable DJs in British Pop history, John Peel, likewise the ship's Confessor is quite "alternative" and progressive in his beliefs so I named him Brother Namahs (Shaman backwards).
2. Give each NPC a memorable trait - it doesn't have to be much, it doesn't have to be earth shattering but just something "different" - The dock hand who constantly has a lit lho stick in hand, the servitor with the brass arm, when the rest of his bionics are steel, the Kasaballica boss who always bows in the presence of a lady.  Don't overdo it though - just a single element can give a distinction to set the person out from the crowd but load them up with attributes and they become a parody which will detract from the overall story and flow of the game
3. Act it - I'm a GM who tends to try to give his all; I tend to run games standing up, I move about, strike poses, rub my hands together gleefully as a stryxis dealer, always hold a cup or glass in my hand when I'm slurring out the Lord-Captain's commands.  My players know me for my "memorable" character voices (when one of our guys first watched "The Phantom Menace" he was alledgedly herad to say "That's a Ben voice!" when Watto first spoke) I'm not good at impressions (my John Peel is abysmal) but they are memorable.  Voice conveys alot of character - it's a great shorthand for helping players get a gauge for what are otherwise just numbers and words rather than living people - the same with actions and body language. It doesn't need to be an oscar winning performnce just something that teh players will remember for the next time they meet the character, or simply when they are relating teh stories about the game to friends.  Now I know that there may be some reading this who will find this the hardest advice to take on board and implement but believe me once you start the easier it becomes and the more involved you will find the players becoming.

An immediate question might be why bother?  These are after all the supporting cast, not the heroes of our tales.  I'd suggest the reasons are threefold:

1. It helps the players - Bless 'em, there's a lot going on in plots and games - especially when you are sat on the player side and haven't got the advantage of seeing the "big picture" plot.  You'll probably have heard of the phrase "Putting a face to the name" - this is a way of doing that in game without having a cast of hundreds sat in your living room.  Having these memorable "tags" that the players can use to associate with NPCs will help them order the flow of events in their minds and keep abrest of what's going on, to who, where and when.
2. It helps you - Memorable traits are as much a shorthand and aid memoir for a GM as for players.  You have a whole universe to run! If knowing that the arms dealer they last spoke in Port Wander had a peg leg and clockwork parrot it's a mnemonic that will help trigger a whole bunch of other recollections about the character and what happened last time they met.
3. It makes it a little more real - We know this is all a game. This is a fantasy setting where mulit-kilometre long spaceships filled with tens of thousands of crew are sailed through an ocean of black by a motley assortment of cyborgs, mutants, psychics and ne'er do wells...this is by no means real.  However, in my personal experience rpgs are at their best when the players and GM have some sort of emotional investment in the game, something which is very hard to create when it is "only a game".  Having memorable NPCs can help to do that; you are adding a touch of uniqueness to these faceless characters just a small touch of individuality.  It will add a hint of realism to the campaign and it does pay off.

To be completely honest I think that trying to apply these techniques has been the source some of  the surrent success of my own game.  In fact when at the end of our second story arc it looked likely that the players would be leaving the Majestic Labour one took me to one side and begged assurance that we'd return soon simply because he wanted to spend more time meeting the NPC crew as they'd had such an impact on his play experience.  That's the sort of response that makes the effort worthwhile.

*Yes kids, there was a time before scanning and digital media...

The noble Lord Baccharus

"Even when relatively sober the Lord-Captain never speaks of exactly why the Warrant of Trade was granted. What we do know is that it was given to him to remove his presence from the Calixis Sector.  Although he may look like he is of declining years he is truly even older than he seems, I know that. The Warrant has been his for over a century and I believe he had been in the service of the Emperor for many years before that.
I think he took the Warrant as an alternative to execution, either public, or possibly more likely at the end of an assassin's blade.  Suffice it to say that in his own words he has never looked back.
The Halo Stars have been profitable for him and early on he found both suitable trading partners in a Merchant house of some repute and a steady, if illegal, source of income in finding and "importing" ancient and rare Xenos artefacts.  His passion for all things alien has been of value to our endeavours thus far but he has been ever careful to stay one step ahead of the Imperial authorities.  Keeping a low profile has rendered our Warrant almost unknown to those we do not wish to notice us, but to those who are aware we are considered a force of potential, to monitor and watch for.  All in all both an advantageous and risky position in which to dwell..."

Master Brion Baccahrus
Profile

WS 41
BS 36
S 36
T 55
Ag 39
Int 45
Per 41
WP 43
Fel 56

Movement: 3/6/9/18
Wounds: 16
Corruption Points:5
Insanity Points: 0

Skills:Awareness, Barter, Blather, Carouse, Charm +10, Ciphers (Rogue Trader), Command +10, Commerce, Common Lore (Imperial Navy, Imperium, Koronus Expanse, Rogue Traders), Deceive, Dodge, Evaluate, Forbidden Lore (Xenos -5), Gamble, Inquiry, Literacy +10, Performer (Dancer, Singer, Storyteller), Scholastic Lore (Astromancy, Bureaucracy, Imperial Warrants), Scrutiny, Secret Tongue (Rogue Trader), Speak Language (Eldar, High Gothic, Low Gothic, Trader's Cant), Tech-Use, Trade (Voidfarer)
Talents: Pistol Weapon Training (Las, Launcher, Melta, Plasma, SP, Bolt), Melee Weapon Training (Primitive, Chain, Shock, Power), Paranoia, Decadence, Air of Authority, Resistance (Fear), Touched by the fates, Ambidextrous, Jaded, Dark Soul
Traits: Brook no insult, Exceptional Leader,