Showing posts with label astropath. Show all posts
Showing posts with label astropath. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 29

+ inload: Rogue Trader 2020 +

+ To the roots of heresy: Rogue Trader +

+ Why do we collect and paint miniatures at all? For me, it's the sheer joy and fascination with opening a window into other realms, and exploring those with other people. +

+ The original Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader (RT) did that very well for me; really opening my eyes to science fiction and fantasy in general. I think I'm fairly unusual in engaging with RT prior to other fantasy/sci-fi media – like Dune, 2000AD, Lord of the Rings or Star Wars/Trek etc. For that reason, I've got a lot of nostalgic affection for the sheer oddness and breadth of the setting. +

Glam and deadly Rogue Trader flanked by burly loyal retainers.. 

+ Importantly, it was empty and open. That was the critical thing that always struck me when comparing it with later properties. The Imperium, described in what seemed like huge detail, was simultaneously revealed to be a fragile cobweb of isolated worlds. +

Why yes, this is a cyberpunk-samurai, space-navy officer, creepy eyeless wizard and a dog. Do they go together? Absolutely.

+ That sense of empty, threatening, lonely voids – and the opportunity to dive into them and create my own worlds, characters and forces – has stuck with me; even if most of my modelling and painting has revolved around replication of existing groups. +

+ With that in mind, I thought I'd dig through all the cool models that I've picked up on a whim and just start getting them painted. Not necessarily to fit in with anything, but more to just enjoy painting one-off models and small groups. These'll likely share a basing scheme, but not necessarily. Beyond that, I want the group to look as unusual, varied and motley as possible. +

Senior Princeps (out of his tub for a walk), Moderati and Princeps.

 + These'll all likely find places in my Alien Wars setting, alongside the ongoing Augustine Crusade. And if they don't? Well, then I'll just enjoy painting and having another little window into a future I'm in no hurry to visit! +

Armsmen? Mercenaries? Imperial Guardsmen? Planetary defence force? All of the above.



Friday, May 8

+ inload: Astropath Diocletian Mercurial +

+ The Five of Cups: Diocletian Mercurial +

Sandesman of the House of Oadwadh +


[Nota bene: This follows directly on from the short story in the previous post. It's not vital to read it, but it'll help the Court of the Sun King story flow if you're following it.]


+ Astropaths tend to have relatively short lifespans caused by the trauma of the soul-binding coupled with the unceasing toil of sending messages across the cosmos. Stronger astropaths tend to burn out quickly as the focus of an astropathic choir sending messages from system to system, or even sector to sector. Those whose gifts are less powerful tend to end up on backwater worlds like Cepheus, their task relatively mundane, though no less miraculous, in reading the dreams of their masters and directly touching the minds of those like them on nearby planets. A lucky few are blessed both with a relatively powerful talent and tasks mostly limited to intercontinental or, at most, interplanetary communication, which adds less strain. Such astropaths may expect to survive upwards of forty years. +


Estafette is the usual title given to Astropaths on the feudal world of Cepheus; and the honorific Sandesman is reserved for those with a military background. Given Diocletian's fastidious nature and slight frame, this may be thought an affectation, much as a smallholder might claim nobility through some antique relative. However, the Astropath does have a military past, having served as the psychic equivalent of a runner in the Ambitine Readyfleet (the Anton Antecedent subsector Naval force) before taking up his current role on Cepheus. His cadaverous face and slight limp seem to some mute testimony to his having witnessed the horrors of war, but in truth, he served his duty far from any active front, steadfastly but unremarkably ferrying mind-stories from post to post. +

+ His service commissioned – a euphemistic term for what is essentially slavery, however the Adeptus Astra Telepathica would like to claim – from the Navy by the influential highborn family of the de la Oadwadhs, Mercurial was honourably discharged during a stop-off at Port Cassian. Today, he is at the centre of a family influential enough to be of importance and wealth, but not so prominent that its servants meet unfortunate ends at the hands of rivals. At least, not commonly. +

+ Astropaths are nearly all blind, their delicate optic nerves damaged beyond repair by their conjunction with the Emperor. As a chained prisoner granted leave to see the sun for the briefest of instants, the aching sense of loss this leaves makes the communion a cold reward. Most also find their auditory or olofactory capacities diminished or lost, and some are unfortunate enough to lose their haptic or proprioceptive senses, becoming almost entirely reliant on those around them. Nevertheless, the Imperium simply would not function without them, the yawning depths of the void between planets making conventional communication worthless, if not downright impossible. To be an astropath is to be a mote in an empty sea of velvet. +

To the faithful masses of the Imperium, Astropaths have touched the mind of god in a quite literal way, and so they are held in a curious mix of awe and terror by the ignorant masses of Cepheus. Mercurial's upright and soldierly bearing and eyeless gaze belie the loneliness of the position – honoured, shunned and simply avoided in equal measure. +


+ While Mercurial does not relish his outsider status, he has suffered persecution enough – in boyhood as a psychic, then as a cripple, and finally as an off-worlder – that it comes almost as a second nature to him; a protective shell of otherness that he maintains as a shield. As a result, he bears the marks of his position: a white sight-cane topped with the mark of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, a green robe decorated conservatively with Imperial key patterns, and perhaps most obviously of all, his defiantly unmasked eye-sockets. These all serve to ward away the superstitious when he is called to his duty, even if it means he remains unloved by the other Oadwadh servants. +

+ Of particular note are his Note of Marque and his Terran purity seal, written as is traditional, in the curious tactile script of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. This is read by running one's fingers along the lines and feeling the textured bump-glyphs. +

Thursday, May 7

+ inload: Cephean Intrigue +

+ inload: Cephean Intrigue +


+++
The cold wind churned over the bonfires, sending sparks and scraps – even whole leaves – of the looted books and records scudding across the streets. It was only the thin rain that was keeping the war-wracked Tradesman's Quarter from going up in flames itself.

Ferlinghetti glanced anxiously up from the steaming pot in front of him to the badly-repaired back entrance, where the looters had entered. He was glad the lock of his traveller's trunk was more secure than the door to the dismal tenement. Thinking of his vistor's upstairs, the underscribe was even more glad that the weight of important papers in the trunk had kept the looters from simply taking the chest itself.

Giving the pot an absent stir, he wished – again – that he'd not left this particular important document on his desk that morning. 

+++

"With the port closed, there's no way to get a conventional message off-world." Northgrass paused. "At least, no way beyond a narrow-band radio vox-trans. Perhaps we could -"

"That won't get it beyond orbit," interrupted Veck. "No use; unless we're intending to alert the Guard." Leaning back in the chair, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Northgrass sat down on the chest at the foot of the bed, his brow clouded. The underscribe crept back into the room. 

"It's clear, Childeric. As far as I can tell." He looked nervous. Most men looked nervous around members of the Inquisition. "I looked down the back gate. It's clear." Ferlinghetti was grateful for his unwavering bionic hands as he handed Veck and Northgrass tin mugs filled with a thin broth.

"Gratis." Veck accepted the steaming cup, slipping two fingers through the handle and cradling it, enjoying the warmth. The room, barely spacious enough for the thin-mattressed bed, rickety chair and tiny sidedesk, felt distinctly cramped with three men in it. Ferlinghetti didn't want to sit on the bed, as that would mean his back was to at least one of the others. He remained hovering anxiously by the door. He raised the drink to his mouth again to avoid talking any further. It was still too hot.

The underscribe's eyelid twitched in irritation as Northgrass leaned forward and rested his mug on some scattered paper records. The Interrogator broke the silence.
"Without that manuscript, what would you send?" 

Veck gave no immediate answer. After a moment, he spoke.
"I have... suspicions about the Sun King's legitimacy." He looked up at the underscribe. Ferlinghetti's treacherous eye darted guiltily. "There is no secret about that. The manuscript will provide confirmation one way or the other, but one in my position is not restricted to acting on evidence."

The interrogator was restless. He tugged at his neckline and fidgeted, making Ferlinghetti's travelling chest creak beneath him. 

"'Your opinions may change, but never the fact that you are right.'" Northgrass' quote, from Veck's own Inquisitorial Aphorisms, raised a flicker of a smile. 

"Just so. In any case, there is something... unusual about Good King Sirius, Cyprian. You said so yourself." 

The underscribe's nature made preventing himself from correcting Veck's pronunciation impossible. 

"Scirusc, sir." 

The Inquisitor was not a striking man, and nor was he imposing. Nevertheless, his direct and measured gaze conveyed the weight of the Inquisition all too well. Veck's expression was neutral and composed, but Ferlinghetti found the Inquisitor's eyes absolutely fathomless. They sat in his impassive face like the eyes of a shark, he thought. Cold. Predatory. Remorseless. 

Ferlinghetti's larynx bobbed as he failed to swallow. 

"There is a copy."

Veck held Ferlinghetti's eye. "There is a copy." To his credit, the underscribe's face remained blank as the colour drained away. His voice broke as he stuttered on "There is a encrypt d-duplex in a safebox with my effects at Manderghast's lab-laboritarium." 

"The Magos?" Ferlinghetti merely nodded in mute reply to Northgrass' question. "Where is he?"

"On the other side of the planet." Veck's exasperation was not entirely hidden. "Or he may as well be while we're stuck in the City." 

Ferlinghetti's fastidiousness overcame his fear. "Ah, that's not strictly the actual case, Unf-, I mean, Childeric." Veck raised an eyebrow. "Titus is on his way to the docks now – the naval docks, I mean. The breakwater. I received instructions to draft a promissory note for the de la Oadwadh family's consolidation in the Hard Regions. He should be here in the early hours." 

"What sort of business?" queried Northgrass, tucking his Aquila pendant into the neck opening of his tunic.

He was answered by Veck. "Irrelevant, Cyprian. I'm sure Ferlinghetti isn't privy to all Manderghast's dealings; and I'm just as sure Titus won't have been able to resist cataloguing Ferlinghetti's belongings for 'safekeeping' – even if that means forcing open a locked safe." 

"The code is a personal cypher. Even if he did read it, it's near-meaningless without my shibboleth, Inqu-," Ferlinghetti stumbled. "Sir. Childeric. I mean, Rubricist" he finished, lamely.

"From what I hear, the Magos would make a good scrutator." Ferlinghetti wasn't sure if he detected professional jealousy or something more from Northgrass. The Interrogator stood up and rolled his shoulders. "At least, considerably more reliable than you, F'inghetti. When does he arrive again?"

Veck smiled thinly, and he sipped at his broth. "In this case, gentlemen, Titus' knack for clumsily poking his nose into other peoples' business may well prove to our advantage." He turned to Northgrass. "I consider myself a good judge of character. And not just a judge of good character, at that." 
Northgrass and Ferlinghetti turned to look at the seated man. "There's a reason I put you in touch with Magos Manderghast, Ferlinghetti. Without putting too fine a point on it, he's a known quantity. I can rely on his compulsion for other people's secrets far more than I can on your hard copy."

He leaned forward and carefully cleared a space amongst the papers on the desk for his half-empty tin cup. Rising to his feet, the Inquisitor adjusted the front of his robe. "Now, let's just hope my faith in Manderghast's dishonesty is well-founded."

"...and that Ferlinghetti's coda has proven more secure than the lock of his strongbox," finished Northgrass. "That still doesn't solve the problem of getting the message off-world, sir." 

"I believe it does." Veck's voice was measured. "A highborn family like the de la Oadwadh's is sure to have a tame astropath on staff. He might be a little rusty, but I'm sure he can get a message through the Sun King's blockade."

"Without detection?"

"Detection. Yes. That is quite another matter..."


+++

Thursday, April 16

+ inload: 5 of Cups, 9 of Collars and 2 of Hands +

+ inload: 5 of Cups, 9 of Collars and 2 of Hands +


+ Not everyone can be the hero – and in the murky, grey-shaded world of the 41st Millennium, maybe no-one is. Nevertheless, some people are destined just to try to struggle through. Such is the lot of these three, who represent some of the servants of the world of Cepheus. +


+ From left to right: Otho Mercurial, Astropath; 'Bobe' Roja Kislova Vlajna, Astropath; Aspers Ferlinghetti, underscribe. +

+ The two Astropaths are interesting in that the model on the left is an obvious modern homage (by Brian Nelson?) to the earlier Rogue Trader-era one in the centre, which I believe is a Jes Goodwin sculpt. Axiom, over at the excellent Magpie & Old Lead, has been building a fantastic Astropathic choir that has had me itching to give these figures a paintjob. +

+ Rather than poach his ideas wholesale, my aim with these is to show some of the diversity on Cepheus – so rather than a formal choir, I want to show the individuality of these characters, who serve different aristocratic families on Cepheus. +

+ Character and contrast +

+ As an illustration, Mercurial serves a more outward-looking, pro-Imperial Cephean family, with the result that his robe is distinctly green (the traditional colour of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica), and he has a number of Classical-feeling touches, such as his name, the key design flourishes on his sleeves and hood, and his general monk-like demeanour. He is intended to look much more like a traditional Imperial Astropath, familiar to any vaguely influential world-traveller in the 41st Millennium. + 


+ His skintone is cool, bloodless and pallid to go with his character, and also balance the warmer green of the robe. He's going to remain fairly restrained and simple, with few decorations. + 

+ The sculpt's gorgeous, managing to convey blindness without loss of ability, and combining a slight nervousness – notice how he's fingering a medallion charm – with an upright sense of duty. He's completely unaltered, as I think he's damn near perfect! Sometime a sculpt suggests a character so perfectly, there's no need to change. +


Contrast this with 'Bobe' Vlajna, who serves a very inward-looking highborn family; who have sent indentured Astropathic slaves to Terra for the soul-binding for generations. As a result, her name is non-Imperial – instead stemming from the rural region of Cepheus from which she comes. Her green sash – old, faded but beautifully maintained and meticulously tied – is the only strong suggestion of her green 'uniform', with her robe being a grey mix of dark green and purple (Orkhide Shade and Liche Purple). This makes a nice neutral hue, witha hint of warmth. This has been accentuated by keeping the palette warm throughout: note that her white staff – Astropaths are blind – uses a pinker, warmer tone than Mercurial's, and her skintone is ruddier (if not exactly healthy). +

+ I like the idea of the sash being a bit like a kung fu belt – (perhaps a Cephean cultural twist?) – in that it suggests a quality of training, and is held with respect. I've been careful to paint this more cleanly than the rest of the figure, to suggest the high regard in which it's kept. I'm more than faintly tempted to take inspiration from Axiom's excellent Syl Moor, and add some subtle decoration as a feminine touch. I don't believe this astropath is intended as a female sculpt, but it's certainly androgynous enough for me to aim it that way. + 

+ There's a slight swell to the hip, and there's a torso/leg proportionality that suggests a female figure to me. The satchel, with its precious medallion (perhaps a similar charm to Mercurical's?) can easily be interpreted as a sort of handbag for whatever Astropathic ladies carry with them, and the fact the sash is tied at the back suggests it's been tied by a servant or handmaiden. Obviously none of that is specifically female, but I think the sculpt is sufficiently asexual that it could make an excellent wily crone. +

+ The sculpt is a typical early Goodwin sculpt, with strong facial details, and this made producing some wrinkles easy. As with Mercurial, the paintjob is intended to match the character. The non-Imperial uniform, lack of shoes and more confident pose suggest a wilful – perhaps cantankerous – older lady to me. I've used a warmer palette in the hope this suggests her being less stand-offish and more confrontational than the reserved Imperial astropath. +

+ Offensive language? +

+ I'm very tempted to further push Vlajna's Cephean ancestry and traditions by adding some local designs to her robe. This is a good point to mention that her name is Romanian – I wanted Cepheus to suggest 19th Century Gothic horror novels, which often have elements of Eastern European culture or location to add some exoticism and mystery. Picking a name from a culture that's unfamiliar to you can gives you an obvious source for designs and ideas – hence why Ultramarines all seem to have Roman names in GW sources, for example. +

+ It's important to note that this does run the slight risk of being slightly kitsch or culturally insensitive; but I hope it'll be interpreted as the genuine interest it's intended. Obviously, everyone with have their own source of cultural references, and what's 'exotic' to one person is mundane to another – this has popped up quite frequently in our little world of gaming with Scandinavian modellers and artists wryly noting how silly Space Wolf names can sound to them! +

I've found that combining these cultural roots is a good way to defuse potential offence and suggest the huge cultural melting pot that is humanity in 40k. As a result, I've used a Yiddish diminutive meaning 'grandmother' ('Bobe'). Language is something that really interests me. Because tabletop gaming is largely (though not exclusively) a Western hobby, I share cultural references with lots of people who look at my figures. As a result, I enjoy exploring thigns that are hopefully unfamiliar to both myself and any viewers, to help add interest and 'strangeness' to these characters, who obviously have no relationship to contemporary culture. +

+ Out of focus +

+ Astropaths have an additional challenge for the painter in that the sculpts don't generally have eyes! This can be awkward for the painter, as it's an important focal point. I found the best solution here was to go with great tonal contrast – keeping the skin on the face pale and making the eye sockets as dark as possible creates high tonal contrast, which draws the eye. In order that this works, it's important that the tonal contrast on the rest of the model is minimal, or that eye-catching bits lead the eye to the focus (as with the wrist and hood decorations on Mercurial) +

+ In both cases, the eye hollows were filled with sepia ink followed by subsequent red and purple washes in tiny amounts, which left slight bags under the eyes. I used less red for Mercurial, as his palette and skintone is cooler. +

+ Stop titivating! +

+ All still heavily WIP, but if I can't work out what to do next when painting, I find it very useful to put the brushes down and step away before I spoil the work I've done. Some pictures in the cold light of day tend to give a good idea of where to step next. +

+ In this case, Ferlinghetti looks like a warmer robe (perhaps a similar saffron yellow to Childeric's?) would provide a better complement to his darkened hood, and provide some contrast to his spooling paper roll. Quite tempted to add a pink strip to this, a bit like a till-receipt roll... :) +