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# The Licentius Couple

This couple is first introduced in Necropolis story arc.

Varro and Livia Licentius are the kind of people the Empire breeds in abundance. They are small time tyrants, petty profiteers, and perfectly suited to thrive in a system where cruelty is a currency. They are not masterminds. They are not powerful. They are parasites who survive by attaching themselves to whatever opportunity crawls past. They hide behind the law when needed, and break it when they can. This makes them ideal recurring NPCs who can reappear throughout the campaign in ways both infuriating and darkly humorous.

## Varro Licentius

Story
Varro crouched beside the blind beggar’s bowl with the casualness of a man tying a sandal strap. The beggar sat cross-legged against the sun-baked wall, murmuring blessings to anyone who passed. His empty eyes never focused. His hands trembled faintly in his lap.
Varro flicked a pebble between his fingers, weighing it like a coin. He dropped it into the tin bowl.
Clink.
The beggar’s face lifted. “Bless you, sir,” he whispered.
Varro smiled, thin, private, pleased with himself. He dropped another pebble. Clink. Then another. Clink. Each sound bright as coin.
When the bowl sounded pleasantly “full,” Varro leaned in quickly, fingers like hooks, and swept the real coins into his palm. A pair of coppers, nothing more. Not worth a meal. Hardly worth bending down for.
But Varro stood, pocketing them with a jaunty tap of his fingers. Profit was profit. Even a small bite tasted sweet if someone else had to bleed for it.
The beggar bowed his head. “Light guide your steps, generous sir.”
Varro snorted softly and walked on, already scanning the crowd for the next easy mark. He felt no guilt, only irritation that the bowl had not held more.
Small crimes. Small man.

Taxing the poor

Varro is a coward who mistakes opportunism for cleverness. He sees himself as shrewd, respected and entitled to wealth that always feels just out of reach. He commits crimes at every opportunity without a second thought, but always petty crimes. In his mind, every petty crime is the crime of the century.

His cruelty is thoughtless rather than passionate. He hurts people because it is easy and because it makes him feel bigger. He folds instantly before real danger, then reinflates once someone stronger stands beside him. The players will never fear him, but they will learn to be wary of the trouble that clings to his shadow.

Later appearances might involve:

- He has reinvented himself as a middleman for relic buyers, skimming off profits and spreading lies about the crew.
- He joins a caravan, claiming expert knowledge of ruins he has never entered.
- He turns up as an informant for a minor official, feeding them exaggerated tales of the Blue Marlin and angling for reward coin.

### Roleplaying Hints

- Speak with inflated confidence that collapses the moment anyone pushes back.
- Swear loudly about “rights” and “property” while avoiding eye contact with anyone stronger than you.
- Make yourself look busy or important even when doing nothing. Straighten your tunic. Fix your hair. Boast about connections you clearly do not have.
- Flinch if someone raises their voice, then insult them once their back is turned.
- Keep your tone wheedling when talking to authority and smug when talking to those beneath you.
- End every argument with the same appeal: “I only want what is rightfully mine.”

## Livia Licentius

Story
Livia leaned against the painted doorway of her street bar, smile warm as sunlit wine, voice smooth as silk stretched over splinters. A man in travel stained clothes lingered uncertainly by the threshold, clutching a handful of coins.
“You want something special,” she purred. “Someone who won’t complain. Someone you can do anything with. For that price I have just the one.”
His face brightened with a greedy, nervous hope. Livia guided him through a beaded curtain into a cramped back room where a thin girl waited on a straw mat, eyes down, shaking. Livia set the man’s drink down, soothed him with another soft promise, and slipped out before the door fully closed.
She moved fast.
The man’s clothes lay just outside on a stool. Good pockets. She knelt without hesitation, fingers working with practiced precision. A knife. A charm. Two more coins hidden by poor stitching. All secured in one smooth sweep. She even straightened the fabric afterwards, so he would think the wrinkles came from his own impatience.
A noise inside made her pause. A whimper. A plea. Livia’s expression never changed.
When the customer finished and stumbled out, sweaty and satisfied, she was waiting at the front door again with her practiced smile.
“Hope to see you back soon,” she sang.
He walked away lighter than he arrived, in more ways than one.
As soon as he turned the corner, Livia strode back into the room. The smile vanished before the beads stopped swaying. The girl was curled in on herself, trying to cover bruises that were not new.
Livia kicked her sharply in the side.
“Up,” she hissed. “Next one will be here soon. Make yourself presentable.”
Then she left without another word, already calculating how much she had made in the last ten minutes, and how much more she could wring from the night.

Another fish on the hook

Livia is sharper than Varro and far more dangerous socially. Her cruelty is calculated. She watches for weakness, adjusts her tone, and performs outrage, innocence or indignation with ease. Her brothel and bar give her access to gossip, secrets and blackmail material, as well as stolen coin and valuables. She hoards these quietly. Out loud she plays the dutiful wife and hard working business owner, which keeps people underestimating her.

Later appearances might involve:

- She has risen in social standing by leveraging information stolen from her customers.
- She spreads rumors about the players that complicate their dealings in a new city.
- She arrives as a witness or adviser to someone investigating the crew.

## Roleplaying Hints

- Speak sweetly even when you are being cruel. Sugar on the tongue, venom underneath.
- Watch everything. Make it clear she is always gauging leverage, always assessing what someone is hiding.
- Use affection as a weapon. A gentle hand on the arm, a sympathetic pout, then a knife twist of implication or accusation.
- Never raise your voice. Livia lets the crowd do that for her.
- Lean into performative emotion. A gasp, a hand to the chest, a tremble of outrage. All rehearsed.
- Drop the mask only in private moments and only for a heartbeat. Cold eyes. Flat tone. Then the smile returns.
- They think they are destined for greatness, but, in truth, their idea of the crime of the century is to pick the pockets of drunks.
- They stay alive by doing many petty crimes, not big enough to trigger a big response.
- They never stand their ground. If things get too threatening, they scamper like scared mice, and start again somewhere else.

## Their “Partnership”

Varro and Livia are not bound by love, loyalty, or anything resembling affection. Their marriage is a matter of convenience, two people with the same appetites discovering that life is easier when they exploit it together. They do not trust each other, but they understand each other. Both crave profit, status, and the small rush of having power over those who cannot fight back. That shared instinct keeps them aligned far more effectively than romance ever could.

When danger looms, each expects the other to serve as a shield. When opportunity appears, each expects the other to help seize it. Their relationship is a transactional symbiosis: stable only as long as it remains profitable. They would never betray one another for moral reasons, morality plays no part, but they would absolutely betray one another for advantage, provided they were certain it would work.

Their bond is not emotional. It is strategic. Two petty vultures circling the same scraps, cooperating because it yields more than competing.

## How to Use Them Recurringly

The Licentius couple thrive on survival without honor. They are often chased out of town, but adapt quickly. They shift roles. They always find a way to land on their feet by stepping on someone else. When they reappear, they should never be powerful, but always inconvenient. They bring consequences of past actions. They remind the players that small acts of cruelty linger longer than expected.

They can escalate stakes in subtle ways. Not through strength, but through gossip, accusation, and the wrong words spoken to the wrong official. The couple will never face the crew directly unless shielded by stronger forces. They hide behind authority, mobs or patrons. They weaponize rules. They exploit fear. They thrive on stories that tarnish the players and profit from any chaos the crew leaves behind.

## Tone and Role

Bring them back when you want to remind the crew that the Empire is not made of towering villains but of ordinary people who choose cruelty because it pays. Their reappearance should provoke groans, frustration and the urge to roll eyes rather than swords. They are irritants that cling to the campaign’s fabric, not threats that redefine it.

If used well, Varro and Livia become touchstones of imperial corruption. Small storms that drift across the players’ path. Predictable in nature, destructive in their own petty way, and always ready to make a bad day worse.

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