The road into Cazak’s Crag was as harsh and unforgiving as any; as hard and brutal as the land itself.
A traveller, normally, could expect to arrive in Cazak’s Crag exhausted, upon blistered feet ... if they arrived at all.

But Xin was no normal traveller.
His word protected him; made him as tough as the land was harsh.

Now, he stood on the final rise, looking down at the Cazak’s Crag; an otherwise impotent outpost settlement, if not for the recent surge of resources and manpower that Miklos Varga engendered and nurtured.

... Resources that Miklos sent his manpower out into the locale to ‘tax’ from the hard working farmers and traders who struggled to scratch a living from this harsh, unforgiving land.
Hard working farmers like Xin’s parents.

But now, Xin had power of his own ... and intended to confront this ruthless and brutal wanna-be warlord.


Please, take this opportunity, this first post, to introduce us to your character they way you want us to remember him.
Make this his ‘first scene’ in the movie.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:11, Sun 04 Aug 2019.

Xin didn't look like much at first glance. He wore simple, bland clothes of rustic means. His face and arms are tan from years of working the fields.  He carries no bags, pouches, or weapons. Upon closer examination, Xin possesses a quiet confidence, the healthy glow of youth and vigor. While not a genius by any means, he certainly has wit and charm.

If any bandit came across him, they would see an easy mark but nothing would be gained from the encounter. Even the satisfaction of dominating the weak would be lost. He is stronger than he appears and as a farmer's son in the Bleak Reach, he's just as durable.

He looks over his destination, wondering if this all one gets for taxing the weak and oppressed. He shook his head at the prospect of letting this continue as he moved forward, knowing what he must do to make the Bleak Reach just a little brighter.

By the time Xin came towards the gates to the city, dawn was displaying its faintest glimmers upon the horizon.
Those folk who'd been generally travelling along the same road as he, tired and sore, were travelling less well.
And ahead, he could see that even at this time pre-dawn, guards upon the gate were waylaying folk ... maybe with questions, maybe asking for some kind of entrance tax.

"You, boy", came the call from a nearby trader, leading his donkey-pulled cart, and accompanied by three other men,
"perhaps you should stick with us.
Unless your here to seek employ within the garrison, they'll not question you to badly if they think you are one of mine".
The trader seemed to be carting earthenware and domestic utilities; he and his fellows looked hearty, salt-of-the-earth folk.

Further back along the road, much further back, Xin could see an old woman pulling her cart, alone.

Xin gives a soft smile, "I appreciate your generosity sir, but I'm not here to take the easy way." He meant that in every way.

He lets others pass him as he made his way to the back to the elderly woman, "Excuse me, ma'am, may a strapping young lad help you with your cart?"

The woman eyed Xin as he came to her, unsure how to react to such an unfamiliar advance.
Times were hard, and folk generally looked after themselves.
That’s not to say anyone who turn a blind eye to the wounded or suffering, but everyone on the road here (for example) had their own trade to cart.

But after a brief consideration, without smile or word, the old lady nodded, and lowered her pull-cart onto its stubby legs; then moved aside to allow Xin to take the handles.
Without further ado, the tired woman began walking, leading the way towards the settlement below.


It was as the sun shone its face across yon mountains that the two reached the gates of Cazak’s Crag.
They might have done so fast if she’d climbed upon her cart, and allowed Xin to take them at his speed, but she had insisted on walking at her own pace, and so they had arrived in her time.


Upon the gates, two armed men ... well fed, well equiped ... were profiling folk who approached.  And they weren’t shy of challenging anyone they chose about their presence.
As one of these men gruffly approached, “Back again, Dalphnie?”, the old lady placed herself between the man and her cart (and, by default) Xin, “I is.  And I’s got me gran’son with me too”, gesturing backwards towards Xin with her thumb.

The guard didn’t seem impressed, but turned his eye upon Xin for a few appeasing moments.
“Yer right”, he replied to Dalphnie, shoving gently past her to get to her cart.
Dalphnie sighed and turned with a frustrated gaze as the guard pulled back the tarp over her cart, to begin riffling through the clothing within.

Xin could now see that Dalphnie peddled clothing.   There was some raw materials and fabrics in there also, but mostly it was clothing that she’d knitted and seen with her own hands (he assumed).
Xin might have guessed that the guard was checking for any contravened items that Dalphnie might have been smuggling into the settlement ... but soon realised that the man was checking the merchandise for anything he might want to ‘confiscate’ for himself.
As he took an interest in a knitted woolen undershirt, Dalphnie caught Xin’s eyes ... and sensing Xin’s nature, gave her head a shake, advising Xin against interfering.

Xin eyes the guard and curbs his doubt. He didn't want to make a scene, at least not at the gate.

He catches Dalphhnie's eyes before closing his own and lowering his head with a nod. He would remember this man for later.

Maybe Xin would ... but right now, this man was taking an interest in Xin.

Tucking into his jacket the undershirt he was stealing taxing from Dalphnie, the gate guard turned his attention to Xin.
He looked Xin up and down, like a merchant appraising a horse on sale.
Xin felt another presence behind him, and glancing back, could see the second guard had come up behind him.

The guard facing him smiled, leeringly, “Come to join up, have ye’, little one?   We could use a healthy one like you to lead the runts, eh, Boris”, the latter said jokingly to the second guard.    “You can sign up at the city hall; tell’m Francin sent ye’”.

But even before Xin might answer, the two we’re turning their attention to a new merchant cart being heeled towards the gate.
Dalphnie gave Xin a weary look, and began to lead them through the gate.


- Xin needn’t leave the scene there: if you want him to contribute more, please do.
I’m just leaving you time to react however you wish.

Also, as part of your next post, please give us a physical description of Xin.   Is he tall, or short?   He’s fit and strong, but is he muscular, or has he a more wiry, athletic frame?
   - if you would pic a portrait pic, also, I’d appreciate it.   Help us conceptualise who we’d be looking at.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:15, Fri 09 Aug 2019.

The guard sees that Xin is a lean and muscular young man, just under six feet.  He possesses strong, defined features and dark eyes.  His long black hair is pulled back into a ponytail.

Xin gives a sly smirk as he walked away.

He gives his thanks to Dalphnie, promising to return her kindness before heading to city hall. He was intent on stopping what was going at the gate. If it was happening there, it was certainly going on everywhere. The look in Dalphnie's eyes was telling enough.

As Xin began to leave, he felt Dalphnie's hand upon his arm to restrain him momentarily.
For her size and age, he could suddenly sense a vitality and strength in her grasp that spoke of many hard years labour, and conviction.  Dalphnie might be mature, but those years had filled her with purpose.

Looking up into his eyes, she said, "Be care, little one.   Since his arrival, the Magister has changed this place, both for good and ill.
Do not be rash", she begged Xin, again sensing his nature.

Then, releasing him, she turned back to her pull-cart, and moved to drag it off to whatever destination she had within the city.


Xin had no trouble finding the city hall.  But to get there, he had to travel though a city that was growing to quickly from its roots: a mere three years had turned this village into a major trade and ... military ... hub, and it was struggling to adapt to its new body.
Armed men strode along causeways, passing homeless and disenfranchised without a glance.  Many homes had been hastily adapted to hostels and soup-kitchens, and structures had been quickly altered and extended into spaces that they had never meant to encompass.   The people here trusted nobody.
The village, as Xin would have recognised it, had been consumed to feed the ever-growing metropolis.


The City Hall had become much more than a meeting place.  Now, it was a headquarters for the very organised military movement that had caused this place to flourish.  Banners and flags adorned the building, and people of purpose moved in and out like ants.
Troops were being trained in the forecourt ... what would once have been the 'common green' trampled into dust and sand under booted feet.

Xin noticed that those being trained ranged in age from barely teen to elderly; drilled by sergeants of this new regime who seemed to care little for their charges as anything other than fodder.

Yet, Xin knew of now war nearby.

Xin shakes his head at the cities rapid expansion. In the Bleach Reach, the powerful and wealthy never care about who they step over to get what they want. Some are barely able to keep up but more are left behind, forgotten and overlooked. No one trusts anyone and he is here to change this.

The Magister is building an army and he doesn't care how many bodies it takes. All of this serves to strength Xin's resolve as he walks into city hall. "I would like to see the Magister," he says firmly.

"Get in line", garrauffed a large soldier nearby, turning to some other soldiers nearby looking for their approval.

"No, seriously," the man said, turning his attention back to Xin, and pointing towards the door that Xin had just come through, "the line for recruits is outside, and around the corner.  You can't miss it", before walking off amuse by his own pun "Get in line.  hehehe"

Beyond that, nobody really took any notice of the farm boy who'd come blustering in.

At the other end of the hall, however, Xin heard a small, authoritative looking man, ordering some soldiers to "<coral>... find the little shit.  We can't have anyone thinking that they can just leg it, and get away with it now, can we?"
Which got him a salute, and those he spoke to jogging off towards, and past, Xin ... headed for the courtyard outside.
The little boss man then shouted to the garraugging soldier, "Nestly, whens that new shipment arriving?  and get me the manifesto.  We're sending out the next unit tomorrow".

Xin sighs, "I tried to be nice."

He walked up to the bossy little man, dug his fingers into his armor and lifted him off his feet, "There won't be a tomorrow for you if I don't speak to the Magister. Right. Now."

His voice was firm and eyes ablaze with a seething fury.

The Seneschal was high in the air before he, or anyone nearby, even realised what was going on.
In fact, Xin had acted with such alacrity that it was the old man's fearful scream that drew the attention of all those present in the City Hall.

Immediately, all eyes and attention were on Xin ... as were, quickly, weapons being drawn.   Their bearer's already moving to encircle the young farm boy whom effortlessly held their Seneschal towards the roof.

The Seneschal, for his part, was too scared and flabbergasted to do anything but whine.    Yet, a voice from the circle behind Xin spoke with a experienced aura of command, "Careful boy.   You might have strength on your side, but we have numbers.
So why don't you put old Cassius down gentle like, and maybe you and I can parlay?
But make the mistake of ignoring my words, and you'll find out how bad this can go for you".

All about Xin, spears and swordtips wove deadly designs in the air, held by experienced soldiers with angry leers.


Tell us, with your next post:  how far has Xin tested his newfound powers?   We know as players that this small group will, at best, wound Xin slightly, before he cleans them up.   But does he know that?

Xin chuckles, "Hmph, maybe?" He meets Cassius' eyes with a hint of pity, "Looks like your life isn't worth much. Oh well..." He tosses the Seneschal over his shoulder.

Working on a farm, Xin had plenty of opportunities to test his strength. He could plow the entire field in record time with his bare hands without breaking a sweat. He hasn't slept or ate since becoming a Godbound. What he didn't know was exactly how tough he was now and this was a good chance to find out.

Xin spreads his arms, "Do your worst."

The gathered soldiery paused for a moment: unsure what to do in the face of an adversary outnumbered, unarmed and confident.
 “Get.  Him”, came the exasperated and gruff voice from behind.
So they did  _{... or, at least, they tried.} 

Except two of them; both terrified of the physical exhibition of strength that Xin had just displayed.
One simply froze, while the other used ‘concern for the seneschal’ as an excuse to turn and run (away from this threat) to where the old man now lay crumpled in a corner.

In a flash, however, the others were upon Xin.
The first sword slashed true across Xin’s arm ... but did no damage.
A spear thrust slammed into his ribs ... but did not penetrate.
The sword that sliced across his hamstring ... drew no blood.
And the sword that came down upon his shoulder ... bounced off.
A spear, thrust into his abdomen ... snapped, rather than offend the little god.
Trained Soldiers
- Hit Dice: 2
- Base Attack Bonus: +2
- Morale: 9
Wearing Mail
- Armour class: 5 (-4 to Agility Save)
Using Swords or Spears
- 1d8+1 Damage
- +1 to hit bonus due to Str

Morale: rolled 3,6,11,5,1,7,3,10 = 6 attack.
Attack:  rolled 12,12,8,10,11,7.  Attack (+5 to each) = all hit, but none penetrate or do damage. 


Then, in a most cinematic way, the entire hall of people stilled.  Not a breath could be heard in the silence, as they gazed upon the still standing farm boy.

And in that moment, Xin ...
- exploded into action?
- mocked their puny effort?
- ran crying into the woods?
Your call; your action!

...points at the door, "Unless you want to see what happens next, I suggest you leave."

Contrary to what they may believe, Xin isn't here to beat the rank and file. He is here for their leaders.

He walks through the group, to the man barking orders. He swings his fist wildly and misses, putting a nice size hole in a nearby wall.

The general soldiery that now stood agasp around Xin glance sideways towards the gruff voice.
When it sighed, and gave them "Permission to turn tail and run, you cowards" most of them did so;  though a few simply fell back somewhat, weapons still drawn and pointed at Xin ...

As Xin turned, he saw the face and form that went with the gruff voice: an older man than himself, maybe 10 years his senior, who stood nearby with an experienced eye and rugged body.   He too was dressed in the chain mails, but hadn't yet drawn his sword.  His arms are folded across his chest, and he stood with a weary yet confident stance.

As Xin walked towards him, though, some of his confidence fled, causing him to take an involuntary step backwards, and his hand came down to his sword hilt.
And when Xin threw his punch, the man deftly stepped aside with experienced ease ... drawing his weapon, and taking a defensive stance.

"Careful now, boy.
You might be a match for everyone in this room ... but there are scarier things than you, and they won't appreciate you're making a mess of their fine hall, now", he said, as he backed away to create some 'safe distance' between them.
"An' no matter how much you throw those fists, you'll not be seeing the Magister today, no matter.

So I suggest you settle yourself down, and allow your words to do your work".



               This man is a cut above his minions; he has an Armour Class 4, and Hit Dice 3.

Xin Sighs as he removes his fist from the wall, "I tried that and I was belittled and told to get in line..."

He starts cracking his knuckles, "Now, let me show you what happens..." He raises his hands above his head, "When I really throw my fist around!" He brings down his fists in a hammer blow. He misses but the force from connecting with the floor knocks the senior soldier off his feet into unconsciousness.

He wasn't here to kill if he didn't have to.

"Now, who would actually like to talk or would you prefer I keeping talking with these?" He holds up his two clenched fists.

23:26, Today: Xin rolled 18 using 1d20+9.  Loosening God's Teeth.
23:28, Today: Xin rolled 16 using 1d12+4.  Damage.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:45, Wed 21 Aug 2019.

He wasn't here to kill if he didn't have to.

It was true ... yet Xin still young, and inexperienced with his new abilities.
And, right now, angry.

The blow to the wall beside the retreating sergeant had shattered and splintered the wall, sending vibrations through the structure itself.
People ran; some screamed.
And the sergeant had indeed been knocked to the ground, unconscious, by the sheer shockwave of the blow.
As he lay there, unmoving, blood trickled from his nose, his eyes, ears and the corner of his mouth.
Bruises were already developing.

By the time Xin had shouted his angry demands into the Hall, the place was devoid of anyone to hear them.
From beyond the doors and windows, in the courtyard outside, he heard shouts and commands being issued.



Wow, max damage!   Even though not counted straight, that’s 4HD of Damage.  Awesome

Xin shakes his head as he looked down at the broken man, then to his shaking hands, "I tried to warn you but this is were pride and arrogance gets you." He is really talking to himself. After taking the men's life so easily, he needed to ground himself. He took a steadying breath before stepping outside with the man's body.

"You could all just go home instead of throwing your life away today, like this one," he tosses the lifeless body in front of the gathering soldiers. "I'm here for the Magister, not any of you."

Outside, a small mob of armed men had formed up, military style.
And more were coming.  Small outcrops of crossbowmen we’re taking up positions high, and on the periphery.

As yet, most only knew that a threat walked among them ... few had seen the events within, and this news hadn’t yet circulated among the crowd.
There was a mixture, though, of experienced men and wild-eyed youths here.   Xin suspected many of the latter had yet to see any combat ... but had received basic, boot-camp training.

He saw no intention among any of them to ‘just go home’, though.

An older man, hardened by years of conflict, stepped forward to draw Xin’s attention ... though not close enough to be attacked so swiftly.
“Who are you?  WHAT are you?  If you are henchman to Lagren, you’ll not receive any favour here.
Neither ways, the Magister ain’t here, so’s you best be ready to speak with me”.



If Xin escalates to confrontation now, we’ll use PC vs Mob rules.

At the mention of Lagrem. Xin sports a face of confusion, "I'm no one's henchman. I'm Xin and I was a farmer's son until certain events unfolded. Now, I've come to make a difference. The Magister seeks to create a kingdom off the hard work others with taxes and tithes. While his soldiers grow corrupt with their authority and power. Taking what they want from those they are supposed to protect. So, what happens when just one of us can fight back? What happens when just one of us wants a better life than to be ruled by a tyrant?"

The man standing front and centre stood quiet for a long moment ... looking Xin up and down appraisingly.
The arrayed troops held their collective breath, ready to attack if the word was given.  Though, slowly, a susurrus carried through that unwashed mass the news of what had gone in within the Hall.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told, Farmers Son,” the man said, “but we’re not here to build no kingdom.  We already have the finest this world has to offer.
We’re here to bring war against the darkness at the centre of this land.  We’re here to purge the evil that festers at its very heart, contaminating your precious home.

And do you think we can do that with good intentions alone?
Should be brunt the entire weight of the war for your freedom? Bring food and tools from our own homeland, while the ‘farmers’ here sit back and enjoy the benefits, contributing nothing?
Or mayhaps, do you think, the local populous might aid us in our efforts to make their future a brighter, healthier place?”

"Of course these people want a brighter, happier home but this...," he pointed to the trampled ground turned to dust under the boots of war.

"By forcing weapons into the hands of children and the elderly? In to those that don't, can't or shouldn't be fighting? By taking whatever you deem necessary and leaving everyone else with your scraps?" Xin questioned harshly.

"If that's how you bring war, we don't need it! I'll fight the darkness and I'll heal this land with my own two hands!" Xin raised his hands as expended his divine power to wipe all the diseases and poisons within half a mile.

"Bring me your sick, your blind and the malformed!" If there any among those watching, he but cast their eyes on them and they were cured.

"If you can't bear the entire weigh of freedom, I can! If you can't bring the food and tools that these people need to live without excepting nothing in return, I can and I won't rest until I do!" He slammed his fist against his chest, creating a shockwave that brought down the rest of city hall behind him.

Well ... frag.  If that ain’t as dramatic an entry as Chandriss is throwing around, I don’t know what is!
I love it. 


Well ... as the building crumbled behind Xin, the entire world seemed to silently stare in awe ... nobody moved, as they all held their collective breaths, and ... well, stared.
          ... at the cost of 1 Effort; expensed for the day to enact that Miracle

In the moments before Xin had brought the structure down, a palatable wave of health and healing and rippled out across the city; wiping the settlement clean of the diseases that plagued this community.
          ... at the cost of 1 Effort; expensed for the day
And there had been a lot of it.  While Xin couldn’t sense any particular disease-inducing curses or sources of Pestilence within the area, he could understand that there was a lot more disease here than at home ... more than he’d expected.


It was discernible minutes, as the dust settled about the place from the destroyed town hall, before his audience began to recover their wit.
Many weapons fell from clammy fingers, and clattered comparatively loudly against the ground.  Some people simple turned and ran, while a few others backed off slowly.  Many, however, just kept on staring, unsure what to do.
And even though many turned eyes to their ranking officer, it was pretty obvious that ‘attack him’ wasn’t going to be accepted by any.

Said superior, the man with the perceived authority, who’d challenged Xin already, waved his hand in front of his face, in an effort to chase the dust away.
In a show of deliberate cool, he reached in to his pocket and pulled out a cigar, which he placed between his lips as he appraised Xin, then said, “Well Hell, don’t let me stop you” ... which was his way of admitting that he didn’t think he could even if he wanted to.

But the look on his face suggest that he probably didn’t even want to. Which seemed to suit his troops just fine.
“If you’re finished with this”, he waved his hand about generally at the scene of destruction before him, “little display, I’m about ready for a drink.
My shout”, he finished, very obviously inviting Xin along.

And without waiting for an answer, he turned, and headed off towards one of the nearby buildings (that was still standing).
The unwashed masses parted like the proverbial Red Sea ... although it was probably less out of respect for him, as it was in fear of being in Xin’s way.

Xin stepped forward, knowing full well this his little displayed did a little more than inspire awe is the masses. He overshot and instead instilled fear, "You have nothing to fear. I am not here to rule over you but to protect. As I said, bring me those that have been broken so I may heal them. Tell me what troubles you, so I may improve it.' He also had a promise to keep involving some overpaid 'taxes'.

The unwashed masses around the village common, still looking on in awe, remained parted to give the young Xin a wide berth.   There was still much more fear in their eyes than adoration; and after his coming into their midst, killing a known soldier, and blowing the Hall apart, it was going to take more than a wave of healing and a few inviting words to win these hard, self-reliant people over.

But for now, at least, it seemed that nobody wanted to challenge his passage among them.
Unfortunately, few looked like they wanted to speak with him, either;  even fewer to 'bring their sick, their blind and their malformed' to Xin.
Yet.   But he'd laid the foundations:
- don't fuck with the new kid on the block
- maybe he can heal and mend the 'broken' among them.
In time, he could build on that.


Meantime, the experienced soldier who'd spoken up, had challenged him, then offered him a drink, was entering the nearby tavern.

Xin could follow him, and take up the offer.
Or, he could continue attempting to sway the masses {if so, give me a Charisma Check, please.  d20, you'll need 5+ to make a difference.  But don't expect to be instantly loved or respected.  Even a successful roll is only going to be 'building on that initial foundation'}
Alternately, he might wish to seek contact with someone else, or do something new?

Xin would try to sway the masses before even thinking about getting a drink. He would take him up on the offer later if only to get some information. He doubted alcohol would do anything to him now.

Afterward, he would return to the gate to pay Francis a visit to collect payment.

08:26, Today: Xin rolled 17 using 1d20.  Charisma.

And so Xin remained there in the village common, attempting to sway the masses.
Many moved on; some with a withering glare in Xin's direction, some with confusion or animosity on their faces.  Some simply looked anxious to be elsewhere, whether out of duty or fear.
But some few stayed.  Maybe out of curiosity, or hope, or simply having nothing better to do.

Of the few that stayed, Xin found himself looking at tired, resigned young faces.
Of the few that stayed, none were much more than a few years older than Xin ... most much younger.
They were young faces that had lost hope.  Young faces, though circumstance or design, had nothing else to loose but their lives ... they had no hope, no dignity, no desires, no belief that anything could ever get better.   Their eyes spoke simply of servitude, and resignation to a life that was barely their own any longer.

Some of them were soldiers, some street urchins, some labourers.
But the few that stayed, they looked now at Xin wondering.  Wondering if he were a sign of things to come.

This is why Xin was here to inspire something within these young minds and hearts. He needed to make a difference. It was going to start here or he was going to die trying.

Mechanically: I guess this would be Xin's first use of Influence. This is where I'm not exactly sure how things work. I know I have 2 points and they have to stay committed until I have Dominion to make them permanent. I know the expenditure of points is based on how difficult a change I want to make.

Xin would want to begin to provide the necessities of life. Food, clean water, shelter, things like that for the village.

In the hours that followed, Cazak's Crag became silent.
Not physically so, because 'life went on' and 'jobs still needed to be done'.  But the whole settlement seemed to be holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Something significant had happened this morning ... something new and powerful had become part of this community.
And that 'something' was Xin.

But the people didn't know what to make of this new 'thing'.
And the military who had transformed this insignificant village into a staging point and stronghold, also, didn't.


Of those who'd remained in the village common after 'that morning', few actually approached Xin.
They were simply in awe, or confusion.
Some few came forward, as though to touch him ... to figure out if he was real or not.
Some few seemed impressed.  Certainly with the fact that he'd taken on a small mob of soldiers unharmed, and knocked down an entire building with his fists.  But more so, because he'd stood up to the authority, stood before the military that 'ran' this town, and made it clear that he was not ruled by them.

The military pulled back.  Far back; whether by orders, or inclination.   The leaders of this outpost were faced with a threat, and needed time to work out strategy.  Strategy to figure out WHAT Xin is, and whether they can work with him ... and if not, what to do about it.


In the hours that followed, Xin found himself sitting with some of those awed, confused, scared people.
Some of them were soldiers, some street urchins, some labourers ... but they were all lost souls, floating in this miasmic cesspool of uncertainty and disease, without a way out.   And, somehow, hoping that Xin would be the answer.

Xin learned from them that Cazak's Crag was ... well ... nothing, before this military had turned up.  They had taken this insignificant outcrop of humanity, and grown it.   Sure, they'd grown Cazak's Crag to be what they wanted it to be, but it had grown.
It is well known that theBleak Reach is a cursed and unwelcoming land:  But Xin now heard tales that he had never heard before, about a plague-god up in the mountains.   'Lagren' it was called; and it hated humanity, it was said.   It had cursed the land with the disease and plague that even now was slowly spreading and expanding across the land, unstopped ... perhaps unstoppable.

But the military here had arrived, and made Cazak's Crag one of their staging points; their goal was, apparently, to oppose 'Lagren' in any and all ways possible.
And so, resources and soldiers had arrived.  Cazak's Crag had grown and expanded, from a village into a military stronghold.
New troops were arriving every so often;  with supplies and resources for the war.

But the supplies and resources were not enough ... and that is why the Magister taxes the local populous.   His view is that, as his troops are here to defend and protect them, the locals can support and supply for his troops.

Xin also learned that many (a great many) of the troops arriving are purchased slaves from other parts of the world.
Purchased, sent here, and trained for the war.  After all, what are they going to do, run away?  This bleak, inhospitable part of the world would eat these kids alive if they left the safety and community of the military ranks they were now forced into.

But the plague and the unhospitable land was slowly draining the natural resources of the land:  there was only ever barely enough for the local populous to scrap an unhappy life from the land prior.   Now, the plague is killing people and destroying harvests, crops, animals and the land itself.  And the military are draining the local populous of even more.

But unless something is done about the plague-god, the military are absolutely a 'necessary evil'.
Unless something is done to stop the plague-god, this land will become nothing but a wasteland of disease and death.


Ok, little god.     There is so much here to fix.
Xin wants to make a difference ... may suggestion is that you pick something, and focus on fixing that one thing.
Once you've fixed that, move on to another.

But as GM, I need a clear idea of how you intend to 'make a difference'.  A definitive goal, a thought-out plan, and your first actions and steps towards it. 

Xin wanted to do so much and while capable of great things, one of them became very clear. He needed to find Lagren and end his curse, one way or another.

Xin couldn't provide food, shelter or water just yet but he cuold certainly provide protection. He would not rest until he found Lagren. With that, he went to the one man he thought may know something about it... If he so happened to still be at the bar. Otherwise, he would ask around and track him down.

With a plan, and a head for of steam, Xin made his way to the tavern.

As soon as he entered the building, the entire place went silent, except for a baby piano in the corner ... the pianist was an elderly, impaired man who didn't notice Xin's entry, nor the sudden silence.
Every set of eyes in the place (except said pianist) were on Xin: and everybody froze, with drink's half way to their lips, cards half placed on tables.  Even the bartender, using a dirty cloth to wipe the grease and dust evenly around an old glass, wasn't moving.
Behind Xin, the double swinging door slapped in and out until they came to rest.

The man who'd spoken to him earlier was no longer there, and it took several requests from Xin before anyone in the place was willing (or able) to find their voice.   In fact, it was the bartender who gained his wits about him first, and stuttered out, "Citizen Tork ain't here no longer, amigo.  He's up and gone.   You's'al likely find him at the barracks, this time of the morning".


Shortly, Xin found his way to the barracks.   It wasn't hard to find, it was the newest, biggest and cleanest place in town.
And, like in the village, and in the tavern, as soon as Xin came within view, everything stopped, and all eyes turned towards him.
Trained soldiers cowered a little, and nobody looked him in the eyes.   In fact, a wide berth was provided, opening up before him in any direction he seemed intent on going.

Citizen Tork was soon walking towards Xin from a local building ... hoping to prevent any problems from occurring.
"Thought I'd be seeing you again soon", he said, walking right past Xin and headed away from the barracks ... obviously hoping that Xin would walk with him, away from his quavering men.   "You didn't take me up on my offer".

Xin didn't budge, "Just taking care of the needs of the many first and a stiff drink just doesn't have the same effect anymore. Now, I need to know where Lagren is." He wanted the soldiers to hear this and continuously hiding from everyone wasn't going to get them use to his presence any faster.

Tork seemed equally frustrated and impressed at Xin's stance, forcing the soldier to return ... a move that, in front of his troops, established some further form of control and authority by the young farm boy.
Turning back to look at Xin's back, Tork spat into the dirt, then returned to face him.

He looked Xin in the eye appraisingly for a moment, then shrugged, "Up there, in the mountains", he said, pointing to the north west ... in the opposite northern direction from whence Xin had arrived.
The Omen Peaks were well known to Xin, as they were to all of the Bleak Reach: for they stretched the spine of the nation, separating the southern lands from the much colder lands to their north.  On this southern said, trade took place with the Bright Republic (when the Reach had anything to offer) and other lands further away to the south, like Vissio and the Patrian Empire.

But few ships or trade bothered fighting their way around the far, far western peninsula into the north lands of The Reach, or the frozen realms of Ulstang Skerries.
There wasn't enough there to make trade or travel worth while.

The Omen Peaks range, for most, was the edge of the world.  It was the horizon that nobody crossed.
And, truth be told, most nobody went up into the mountains, either.

But settlements existed up there.  Many of them cloistered facilities that (like the rest of the Bleak Reach) scratched out a meek existence.

Tork's hand dropped, and he continued, "Its about three weeks march, but thats with a regiment of men, and auxiliaries.   If you go alone, you might do it in a week or so ... if you're hardy enough.  But I'd suggest you take some warm clothing.

Within a few days, you'll start coming across the real plague lands.  Expect to die in there, no matter how tough you think you are.
And don't ..." he looked Xin in the eyes now, "DON'T bring that shit back here.  We're barely keeping it at bay now, and this outpost doesn't need more trouble.

Ask for directions along the way, folk in there know where you're going; even if they curse it.

Lagren's disease dominates the land itself, even the animals are sick and twisted.
And then, you'll meet his mongrelmen" he said with an almost sadistic smirk, "Oh you won't miss them.
And they won't miss you, neither" he finished.

By now, the entire compound of training soldiers stood still, watching Xin and listening to what Tork said.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:41, Fri 06 Sept 2019.

Xin smiled when Tork said it would take him a week and to bring warm clothes, "Only a week? I plan to be back by then."

He had to stifle a laugh when he said not to bring any of it back with him, "Don't worry, you won't have to keep much at bay when I'm through."

Xin was excited at the prospect of being able to stop the source of the disease that had plagued the Bleak Reach. That would be the largest step of instilling hope in the people. He turned towards the northwest without a word and started putting one foot in front of the other.

And so it was ...

Xin didn’t need much in the way of provisions.   He no longer needed to eat or nourish his body.  And with effort, he could like immunise himself from the cold in those mountains.
He didn’t need to sleep; hell, no matter how far he ran, or carried, he never even tired.

So, really, the only thing that stood between Xin and his self-imposed destiny was Hesitation.
And, right now apparently, he was immune to that also.

And so, as the sun began to go down over the very village he entered just this morning, Xin strode out of those same gates.


By nightfall, he was well on up into the foothills, and just after dusk, he created a hill to look down on the small community that lay at the hills foot.
It looked cold, old, and uninviting.   What light emanated from the place weakly escaped the shuttered windows and door frames.
It was unlikely that the place welcomed outsiders: for it was a place of famine, disease and xenophobia, like most in this Bleak and forsaken Reach of the realm.

Xin heard a wolf howl in the distance, and a baby cry somewhere in the hamlet below.

Xin broke into a sprint after the sound. Even if they didn't want his help, they were still going to get it.

The wolves, wherever they were out in the darkness, had not entered the village when Xin got there.
It was very possible that they wouldn’t.  Wolves were common in this part of the world, but rarely came into human settlements .. regardless of the stories told around campfires and children’s bedsides.

The hut that contained the crying baby was easily identified, as every other in the village was quiet now.
But Xin could see the signs of sickness about the place, including a door into one darkened but that had a Red Cross painted upon it.

Xin was sure he didn't effort to help this little town as he did for Miklos Varga just yet but he could still help. If would see if the baby was sick first, then head over to the marked house. He knew strangers were likely not welcomed but maybe a healer might.


He knocked on the door, "I know it's late but I can help your child and let you get some rest."

From inside the hut, Xin heard sudden movement, and whispered voices ... urgently discussing this new situation.
But these were xenophobic folk, for the most part, and opening doors to unknown strangers in the middle of the night was usually a recipe for disaster:  being robbed, attacked, or worse.

It was also strange, for such rarely happened in this village since the plague took hold years ago.
But, truth was, these people knew hardship ... and so, felt compassion for others also.   And they understood that the person now at their door might be someone in need of compassion.  Especially if they needed hospitality from the harsh vagaries of the night's denizens.


A male voice came from within, "Who are you, and what do you want?"

Xin, as part of your next post (replying to this man), please give me a Charisma Check.     That is a d20 roll, and you'll need 5+ to succeed.
This result will help guide me in the response you get when you respond to these folk.

"I'm Xin and I just want to help," his voice was innocent and sincere. "I don't need anything from you excempt your time."

23:09, Yesterday: Xin rolled 13 using 1d20.  CHA vs 5+.

The moments drew on, and Xin began to think that he wouldn’t even get a response, when the door bolts on the other side slid out of lock, and the door slowly opened.
A man’s face, older than Xin, peered out.   Light crept out from behind him, silhouetting him.
After looking Xin up and down a moment and deciding that Xin maybe didn’t look like a threat, the man opened the door further and gestures for Xin to enter.

Within, Xin found a home so very much like his own ... sparce and inexpensive, much was hand-made, but warm and homely.
Candles lit the space, along with a small fire in the hearth that had burned down to cinders and faggots.
Nearby, a crying baby was held in the arms of a scared woman.

“Who are you?” the man asked, and Xin realised now that he held a small hand axe, ready to defend his family, “and why are you out in this night?   Are you in danger?”

Xin shook his head with a slight chuckle, "No, not at all. I'm traveling to the Omen Peaks to cure what ails this land and you can call me Xin." He gave a polite smile, "Now if you would like a good nights sleep..." He nodded towards the mother and crying baby.

The man looked at Xin a moment, then offered his left hand in welcome.
His right hand still held the axe, at his side; but ready t be swung at a moments notice.
“I am Steleard”, he replied, “and my wife, Bridget”, nodding at the woman.

Confusion creased his brow, “Why on this accursed earth would you go there?
Lagren’s kingdom is no place for humans any longer.  It is the domain of the carrion and mutants that worship hi... IT!”

He woman, Bridget, watched on, now nursing her sick child.
They were all sick people.  The child, it’s parents ... probably the whole village.
As disease had spread, sanitation had given way to flies, rats and crows ... which propagated the ill.

Xin nodded, taking the offering hand with no reservations, "Well met sir. Thank you for your time."

"Well, I plan to end his reign once and for all. Also, I might be the only person who can that cares to even try," he said woefully. He knew not many cared for The Bleak Reach but to Xin, it was home and he was going to something about it.

Unforatenly, unless something other then disease was plaguing the infant, he would have to wait till morning when he could use his Gift once again, "Thank you for inviting me into your home but while I can't help you right at this moment, in the morning, you'll notice a change." He said it with such certainty, that it must be true.

Steleard offered Xin  a seat, and a honey-tea brew from the kettle.
Here was a small couldron of food on the stoves far edge, but Xin was offered none.

As Bridget fed and soothed the sick baby to sleep, Steleard sat with Xin, “You I tend to defeat Lagren?  Alone?
They call him ‘The Lord of Flies’, you know?   He’s been up in those mountains longer than anyone knows, and he’s been amassing power, and followers, for almost as long.
You cannot ‘end his reign’ by simply walking up there and reprimanding him.

Where do you come from, young man?
And what is your plan?   I hope you HAVE a plan, because Lagren will know of your coming long before you arrive, and have prepared his defenders and defences.    They say his magic is strong.
DO you have allies?”

Xin refused the seat and drink, "Oh no, I'm not here to be a burden and I'll be going shortly."

Xin simply nodded at her first pair of questions.

Xin chuckled at the next set, "I don't believe the 'Lord of Flies' is going to stop with just a few a strong words. No, I'm going there with the goal of ending his life if I must. Too long and too many have suffered from this one man's action. Is so hard to believe that another of his caliber can stop him?"

"Like many of my age, I was born and raised here."

"Good, I want them all gathered in one place. I won't have to hunt down any stragglers that way."

At the last question, he shook his questions, "Just as many, including yourself, seem to think me mad. Many think I'm not capable of this feat just as your barrage questions seems to suggest but you'll see in the morning. Now, if I maybe excused, I shall take my leave so you may rest."

Steleard listened to Xin with mixed expressions of bemusement, curiosity and concern.
But when the young man was done, he simply said, “Sure, if you’d like to stay in the village tonight, may I suggest the second hut on the left, just past the pigsty.   The first was home to the widow Gytha, who’s personal hygiene left a little to be desired”.

He went to a small woven chest nearby, and offered from it an old, but functional woollen blanket.
“If you’d like a faggot or two, you might get some kind of fire happening, too”.
It was going to be a very cold night, and Xin would be alone in an otherwise frigid hut.

Xin just smiled, shaking his head, "I won't be needing any of that." He saw himself out, spending the rest of the night patrolling its border.

Once his powers return, he moves to its center and wipes the disease clean while pinpointing its source if it's within the area. If he didn't find it, he continued on his journey.

Steleard simply stood in silence watched the headstrong young man leave; unsure what else to say.


Xin patrolled the village for the night.   Nothing of note happened within the village, but Xin was pretty sure that he caught movement out in the rock-strewn bracken of the foothills around them.   Possibly it was local fauna, simply trying to survive in this harsh land, as much as the humans were.
Rats scurried, dark shapes winged through the night.

As the morning sun began to light the horizon, and warm the bitter air, Xin (although having been awake, and active, for several days now) felt none the worse for the wear ... and, in fact, felt his spirts buoyed by the promise of a new day.
        Any Effort spent 'for the day' returns to Xin now

Reaching within him, as he'd learned to, Xin drew forth some of that spiritual strength, and sent it out in a wave ... which cleansed the village of all disease, illness and poisons.
He sense some small source of poison in the their well: a natural source, likely some dead animals that slowly rotted into it.
But otherwise, the disease that suffused this place radiated from beyond:  from the direction of yonder mountains ... from the domain of the 'Lord of Flies'.

He would inform someone of the well before heading towards the mountain. While his journey had just begun, he already felt he was making a difference. Hopefully, with less to burden the small village, they would find a better day awaited them and that there more to life than just surviving until the next sunrise.

It was easy enough for Xin to inform an early rising villager of the problem in the well.    Although that man, at first, was scared of the stranger loitering within their village ... but soon enough Steleard arrived to sooth matters over.

Steleard thanked Xin again, but in honestly, was glad to see the strange young man on his way.  He had nothing against Xin personally, but in this part of the world, strangers were ... strange.

Xin couldn't know, as he headed off into the hills, headed higher towards the mountains, what a difference he actually had made to the village this day, however.
Everyone felt ... happier.  More comfortable and at ease.  The diseases and virus' that plagued them (had plague them for years) did not today, and each villager felt heartier and healthier; healthier than they'd felt in so, so long.

And more got done that day than ever before.  Feeling hearty and strong, repairs were made that were well overdue.   The well was, indeed, cleaned up.  And for the first time in months years, the village felt like socialising, and a small feast was held.  There had even been some dancing and singing and music that evening.


But Xin knew nothing of this; not realising just what hope and difference he had brought these people.
And his presence wasn't forgotten, for even days and months later, casually speculation linked that 'good day' to 'that stranger' who'd come among them that morning.


Xin, however, was footing it up further into the foothills, headed for the towering Omen Peaks ahead.

It was about half way through the afternoon, that he crested a ridge, and looked down into yet another village.  But even though he couldn't identify why, he felt uncomfortable about this scene.  Something wasn't 'right'.

Xin planned to visit the village on his way back, making sure that diease was gone and showing that kept his word. Right now, he looked down on another village, possibly in need of his help. Either way, he moved towards it. At this rate, he wasn't going to make his self imposed deadline but he would be richer in experience for it and have spread hope along his path.

The harsh sun scorched the barren rocks beneith Xin’s feet, as he made his way down the unstable hillside towards the village far below.

He was barely halfway there when he came across the ‘graveyard’ ... if that is what it could be called.
The initial corpses had been, it seemed, buried under piles of rocks; perhaps to keep them safe from scavengers and predators.  But that process had ended at some point, for whatever reason, as ‘fresh’ bodies were piled in the small area, uncovered.  It was as though the burial ritual had become ‘to much trouble’ and now the dead were simply flung onto the pile.

Xin had smelt it some time earlier ... and had followed humming and buzzing of the attendant insects to find the scene.
Now, standing here, it felt uneasy.

Each dead body seemed wasted from within, as though eaten by some virus or flesh-eating plague.
And every one of them had ‘stalks’ growing from it.  At first, the stalks appeared similar to new plant shoots ... reaching for the sun.
But further observation left Xin with the distinct feeling that these growth were not floral.

Far below, in the village, he heard shouts; maybe some screams.
And he could make out movement among the huts and cabins therein.

It made sense to Xin that on his way to cut out the cancer of the land, he would run into its many symptoms. The living took precedence over the dead and he would return to the 'graveyard' after helping the villagers with their crisis.

Leaving the 'graveyard' behind, Xin headed down the desolate, rocky slopes towards the village below.

Even as he did so, he could see that the place was like a stirred up ant's nest, with little figures running around in all directions.  For certain, something was going on down there; something chaotic and dangerous.

As he got closer, he saw a small group of people fleeing the village.  Not directly towards him, but in his general direction.
They were being chased by other people, and it was obvious that they were desperately trying to escape for their lives ... but they were being hampered by both the unstable terrain, and the fact that they were bringing children with them, some carried.

Behind them, a small group of pursuers were giving chase.  The hunters seemed ... unusual ... somehow.
And they moved across the terrain with greater ease than the villagers; seemingly less slowed by the rocky ground.

Xin was easily able to change course to intercept, but he knew that the hunters would reach the villagers before he could, unless he could do something more than just run towards the scene.
Here's your chance to do something impressive.  But remember that Xin has used one of his two Effort for the day ... and any Effort he requires for a Gift or Miracle now will leave him bereft for the day.
However, unless you do something Gifty/Mircacly, Xin will not make it to the villagers before their pursuers do.  That is not to say you will be too late to save them ... just that the situation will be different upon your arrival.

Xin simplied ran as fast as he could, preferring to save his effort for the coming fight or possible aftermath.

As Xin came racing towards the scene, he could make out more detail.

The pursuers were ... not quite human.  The looked like humanoid monsters ... something akin to dogmen.  Animalistic.
The were smaller than normal humans, but stocky and muscular.  And they carried spears and sword, wore crude leather armour even.  And they bounded, moreso that ran, across the rocky terrain.

Before Xin could get the to villagers, the dogmen were upon them; and the screaming began.
But the creatures were not taking to the fleeing humans with their weapons, instead moving swiftly to outflank and corral them ... to knock them to the ground and ... capture them.

As Xin came tearing into their midst, they saw him coming; many of them turning to face his approach and drawing their weapons.
There were easily several dozen of the monsters, and most were reacting to Xin, leaving only a few to harrass the scared villagers.

Mongrel Mob (small mob of animal hybrid creatures)
AC: 7
Hit Dice: 12
Morale: 9
Attack: +2
Move: 40’ running
Save: 16+
Damage: 1d8 average weapon
Effort: 1

 Xin could pull up before coming among the enemy; to parlay, or attempt something tactical.
Or he could plow right on into them, and begin laying waste.

Plowing into the enemy was the simple solution but it wouldn't give him any insist and that was not the 'way of a king' as his father would phrase it. When he close enough to be heard, he showed he was 'unamed', "Why are you doing this?"

He wasn't sure if they would understand him but he didn't want to insult them by immediately assuming they wouldn't.

The bestial little creatures were, as best as Xin could tell, were half human and half hyena.  Or maybe humanoids that had evolved from hyenas.  But either way, they were not natural to this world ... either crafted by some sick magics, or delivered here from some other realm.

The natural order of the world has been broken for a thousand years. For ten centuries, the realms have given birth to creatures and entities never intended by nature, their forms fashioned by sorcery, dark artifice, or the simple misfortune of some cursed birthplace.

Down in the village beyond, Xin could see humans being rounded up into a central, open area of the village ... corralled and scared, surrounded by many, many more of the bestial creatures.

The ones gathered before him snarled at his arrival, obviously preparing to meet Xin with force.
They'd been sent to 'round up' the fleeing humans, and considered Xin to simply be another of the villagers that had temporarily escaped into the craggy outlands beyond the village.
"Get in line," growled the first among them as he faced Xin, "Get in line or I'll gut you were you stand, as a warning to the rest of these simpering fools", gesturing for Xin to join the other captives.

Already, some of it's companions were stalking to Xin flanks, ready to surround him.

In the speaker's eyes, Xin could see a desire to 'gut Xin' ... looking for an excuse.

Xin smirked, raising his shirt to reveal his iron-hard abs. He patted his stomach, "Give it your best shot then cause I'm not going to let you take these people back to your master." He was fishing a bit, seeing what he would get before going on the offensive.

Either way, he moved in, knowing he needed to end this quickly and give the rest a reason to run. Now, was the time to summon his gift and rattle some teeth! Still new to fighting, he whiffed but the power from his fist could still do some damage.

22:42, Today: Xin rolled 16 using 1d20+12.  Loosening God's Teeth.
22:43, Today: Xin rolled 14 using 1d12+4.  Damage.

*sigh* Only 4 damage.

Fighting a 'small mob', your successes decrease their 'mob size/HD' accordingly.  As I am imagining these things as simply, thuggish brutes of 1 HD each ...

As Xin swung his fist, it was as though the earth and heaven itself channelled power though our young hero's body, for the mere force of the blow ... the power generated by his fist travelling though the space between he and his enemy ... arced out like a wave of destruction, shattering bones and stones that Xin's fist never even reached.

As the lead monster-thing's head was ripped to the side in a sickening crack, several of his cohorts were knocked off their feet.
Xin's force of will that powered the blow ruptured and shattering a nearby rock, exploding it from within sending shards and fist-sized chunks brutally into the head of a nearby mongrel man.

In screams of pain and agony, surprise and fear, four of the brutish creatures fell with this one blow.

"When the foes are given some reason to flee, they roll 2d6; on a roll higher than their Morale, they retreat, surrender, or otherwise stop fighting".
- rolled 9 using 2d6.  Moral 9.
Xin could see the remaining mongrel men stand, their eyes widened by fear and sudden uncertainty.
They had just witnessed something truly fearful, and their spirits were rattled.
But not quite enough for them to retreat, surrender, or otherwise stop fighting ... but the proverbial fear of God was within them now, and they were now advancing much slower and cautiously than they had before.
I am going to give them a -1 penalty to their attack rolls, to represent this

But advance they did, weapons out before them;  and suddenly, as one group, they screamed and raged, and charged Xin as a mob ...
- rolled 9 using 1d20+3 (6).  Attack against Xin.
     ... but their fear, and their lack of cohesion was, well, ridiculous.  Only a few even got close enough to make a viable strike; most of them instead to scared to get close enough to the strange young man before them.  And the few that actually got into weapon strike range were swinging wildly and fearfully; one even had its eyes closed in fear of seeing his spear strike and draw the wrath of the godling human.


Mongrel Men mob now down to 8HD.
No damage to Xin.

Xin's turn to act again

With his small reserves tapped, Xin used the only weapon he had. He threw himself at the fearful group of mongrels, "You brought this upon yourselves!" He tore through half of their remaining forces like paper, tossing them aside, snapping weapons and bones, "Never again will you be allowed to harm the innocence!" At least he presumed, there could be something larger at play but the way he was talked to lead him to believe otherwise.

12:09, Today: Xin rolled 29 using 1d20+12.  Attack.
12:09, Today: Xin rolled 10 using 1d12+4.  Damage.

Xin landed among the feral hyena-men like a noble an savage lion, wreaking havoc and destruction upon the little tyrants.
His fists were divine weapons of retribution.

At one point during the ensuing skirmish, one of the little buggers managed to draw our hero's blood, however.
Its sharp, pointy little spear sliced into Xin's hip, tearing a slash an inch or so deep and wide.
- rolled 21 using 1d20+3.  attack against Xin
- rolled 3 using 1d8 with rolls of 3.  damage to Xin.  = 1 damage

But it was nothing compared to the amazing and fierce assault that came upon the remaining Mongrel Men ...
-  rolled 5 using 2d6 with rolls of 1,4.  Courage/Morale check for Mongrelmen.
... and within moments, what remained of the sizeable group that had pursued the villagers into the rocky terrain broke and scattered.

The small handful of hybrid animal men screamed in their high-pitch hyena voices, and bounded off into the landscape ... most headed back down the rocky hill towards the village below, where they might seek shelter among their many brethren there.


Which left, now, Xin standing among the dead bodies of the fallen, facing the stunned, scared and awe-filled faces of the villagers before him.
Xin, please give us a Charisma check, regardless of what you attempt next ... to help guide me in how the villagers here feel about Xin right now.


Fleeing Mongrel Men 'mob' (not that there remains enough to count as such now):  4HD

"People of The Bleak Reach, you are safe now..." Possibly, for now. He had no idea why the mongrel men were trying to round them up or if they would be back. "Can anyone tell me why they were doing this? If not, I must make haste to clear out the rest of them from your village."

23:32, Today: Xin rolled 5 using 1d20 with rolls of 5.  CHA vs 5+.

Phew...
This message was last edited by the player at 04:38, Wed 23 Oct 2019.

The events that had played out before their eyes, and the potency of presence that stood before them now, stunned the villagers before him into awe and silence for a moment.
But one brave woman, a mother hiding a child behind her skirt, managed to step forward.

"They serve the Lord of Flies, sire.  He .. he has sent them here to round us up, to be taken to Kutha", she stuttered, in uncertainty and fear.   "This is not the first village to have been taken, so.
But the first time we have been attacked.   You see, they never leave anyone.   They just take everyone".

Xin could see that every one of these villagers were disease-ridden, in one form or another ... to one degree or another.
They were all suffering malnutrition; hungry, weak, starving and frail.

The child behind her began to cry.
He wasn't the only one present who did so.   These people were scared, tired, emotional ... and they still weren't exactly sure who this man standing before  them was, or what he represented.

"Kutha?" Xin sported a confused look.

he looked over the villagers and immediately knew what he must do. It would take time, unfortunately. He was still but a young Godbound and could not exert his powers that often. Still, he was going to clear out the rest of the mongrel men from the village, then help these poor people.

It was that one woman, then, who continued the conversation ... even though she was as nervous as her peers, and intent on protecting her child.
"Kutha is the City from which Lagren rules, up there, in the mountains", she said, pointing way up to the horizon.
"His followers and cult, his dog-soldiers, they all come from up there ... and that is where they take the people they round up.

Nobody is ever seen again, I've heard", she said.


Down in the village, Xin could see the movement of little figures; as large groups were being rounded into a herd near the centre of the buildings.

The mongrel men that had fled from Xin were now bounding over the uneven, inhospitable terrain, back down towards that place.

For now, these villagers with Xin were safe ...  but there were a lot who were not.
And shortly enough, the rest of the mongrel men army down there was going to hear about what happened up here on this rocky ridge.

Xin nodded, "I see. Since none of you seem to be warriors, I suggest you hide while I take care of the mongrels." With that, Xin ran off towards the town.

Facing all of them would be full hardy, even for him. He looked for an isolated group to pick off before the rest came to their aid.

The scared villagers were all to happy to take Xin's direction to 'hide'.

They scattered quickly into the rocky, unwelcoming terrain ... though it was the budding leadership of the young mother, 'Suzette', that they remained together, and began working as a group (if somewhat chaotically).


Dashing down the ungainly hillside, Xin identified a small mob* on the outskirts of the village moving hut to hut; looting, and looking for villagers hiding.

Xin was upon them before they realised it ... although they were fully armed, and expecting trouble, so their being attacked by (what appears to them as) a villager, was no surprise.



*  Yessss, its another small mob of Mongrel Men ... but soon others will come to join them.
Mongrel Mob (small mob of animal hybrid creatures)
AC: 7
Hit Dice: 12
Morale: 9
Attack: +2
Move: 40’ running
Save: 16+
Damage: 1d8 average weapon
Effort: 1

There are the equivalent of 5x Small Mobs in the village; every two rounds, another of those mobs (adding their HD directly to what Xin faces) will arrive to reinforce those present ... and if there is ever more than 16HD facing Xin, they will meld into a Large Mob.
(I'm making this up as I go for dramatic excitement, so lets see how it plays out)

The surprise would come when Xin tore through a third of their forces with his bare hands. He needed to be quick before he got overwhelmed. He was off to a good start to say the least.

18:04, Today: Xin rolled 27 using 1d20+12 with rolls of 15.  Attack.
18:04, Today: Xin rolled 15 using 1d12+4 with rolls of 11.  Real damage.

The screams and shrieks of rage and pain echoed about the village, as Xin tore into the small mob of mongrel men in front of him, felling many.
And with rage, they fought back with sword and spear ...
        - Mongrel Man rolled 6 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 2.  Attack Xin.
   ... without any luck.   In truth, they’d never experienced a threat like Xin: they were tough, bestial, untrained troops who relied on intimidation and fear more than anything else, backed up with basic animalistic brutality and instinct.
And such didn’t count for much against anything but fearful villagers.

But elsewhere in the village, other mongrel men were becoming aware of the strife at this end of the village, and were preparing to join the fray.


Mongrel Men small mob down to 8HD.
In two turns, a new small mob will arrive.

Xin; your turn to continue the carnage.

Xin continued his tear, swatting aside a few more mongrels. With more on the way, Zin could continue to fight and his godly strength and toughness were more than a match.

11:38, Today: Xin rolled 27 using 1d20+12 with rolls of 15.  Attack.
11:39, Today: Xin rolled 7 using 1d12+4 with rolls of 3.  Damage.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:42, Sat 02 Nov 2019.

My apologies, young Xin: I have failed us both.
The rules do say that "A lesser foe is a creature with equal or fewer hit dice than the hero has levels"; and so therefore, you have (and always had) the right to roll your Fray Dice against these little buggers.
I won't bother trying to retroactively effect such, but please do feel free to do so from here on.


As Xin continued to lay into the dog-soldiers before him, they fell and screamed and bled.

But the sheer number of the creatures led to the inevitable strikes against our hero, and even as Xin tossed one mongrel man through the wall of a nearby hut, one enemy struck true into Xin's shoulder ...
     - rolled 23 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 19.  attack Xin.
        rolled 1 using 1d8 with rolls of 1.  damage to Xin. 
... but achieved not even a scratch, as the weapon slid of Xin's hardened skin, his musculature denying the weapon's tip any purchase.



Mongrel Men small mob down to 6HD.
Another Small Mob will arrive in one more turn.

Xin felt the point of the spear slide off his iron skin. He looked at his shoulder, then at the mongrel man before shoulder checking him. He Watched him topple several more as he as flung out of the village.

09:56, Today: Xin rolled 25 using 1d20+12 with rolls of 13.  Attack.
09:56, Today: Xin rolled 6 using 1d12+4 with rolls of 2.  Damage.
09:56, Today: Xin rolled 8 using 1d8 with rolls of 8.  Real Fray.

So it's not based on their total HD but each individual that makes up a group? Good to know.

No, I don't think it does.   A mob can be made from Lesser or Worthy foes.

Xin was on top of this group of mongrel men now, savaging and mauling his way through them.
As another handful fell before his fury, the last remaining cowards turned and ran, screaming and shouting in fear.

There were more on the way, though; but Xin had a moment to catch his proverbial breath, and his wits, before they arrived.
Possibly, even take some small, swift action that would benefit him as he prepared to face the next wave of attackers.
No attack rolls this 'combat turn' ... just any narrative you wish to create:  feel free to describe any reasonable action Xin might take.
The next small mob of Mongrel Men can be expected next round

Xin didn't want to destroy the village in the process of protecting it. Though, running into an open field would give a larger force a significant advantage. If there was a natural, narrow passage he could funnel the mongrel men through, he would head towards it. Otherwise, he would just have to find one between structures. Buildings could be replaced, lives could not.

Unless Xin was prepared to leave the village to find a natural, narrow passage he could funnel the mongrel men through, he’d have to settle for a defensive position between several of the structures.

Yet, as the moments went on, and Xin expected another onslaught, it became apparent that there wasn’t one.
The shouts and yells from beyond the structures he hid behind continued ... and advancing out, Din could see that the remainder of the dog-soldiers were divided into three groups.

There were, left in the village now, only a couple of dozen.
Xin had, between the hills and here, destroyed a good half of their forces with his bare hands ... but suffered a scratch for his efforts.

Now, some of the mongrel men were guarding the villagers, whom they’d previously rounded up and herded together: currently tied to several wagons.
There were a few standing not far from where Xin now peered our, obviously to watch for him ... and as they saw him peering out, they began making quite the ruckus, turning towards their fellows, and pointing at Xin madly.

And there were a good half a dozen in the village centre, between the wagons and where Xin stood.
In the village centre lay a woman, bleeding, with a spear through her shoulder.
Crouched over her was a boy; seemingly her son.  He was crying, and holding her, and screaming through tears of rage for the mongrel men to “go away.  Leave her alone”.

The half dozen mongrel men circled around the mother and her boy were ... trying to get at them.
Yet something was stopping them.  Some kind of field of force: an invisable dome of some sort.
They were pushing against it, and smashing at this unseen protection with their fists, rocks and weapons ... but to no avail.
Whatever was happening there was keeping them at bay.
Perhaps the mother had some kind of magic with which she protected herself and her son.

Meanwhile, the small mob of mongrel men closest to Xin were forming up, unenthusiastically, to ... maybe charge him? maybe just try to keep him isolated?

If they weren't going to come at him, he would continue to bring the fight to them. He would head towards the wagon, making sure that they wouldn't getaway. In the process, he would barrel through the mongrel men attacking the barrier.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:46, Sun 10 Nov 2019.

As the remaining Mongrel Men are all in this very close vicinity, everyone here able to see and attack each other, I am going to round them all into one Large Mob ... for your ease of dismantling.

Mongrel Mob (large mob of animal hybrid creatures)
AC: 7
Hit Dice: 24
Morale: 9
Attack: +2
Move: 40’ running
Save: 16+
Damage: 1d8 average weapon
Effort: 1


Xin intended to go straight through the dog-soldiers before him, and make it to the caged wagons, where villagers were both cramped into, and tied to the exterior of.
And to do so, he'd have to go through the 'watchdogs' that were meant to keep him at bay, and the soldiers attempt to breach the protective shield around the wounded woman and her child.

This probably wasn't going to be an issue for a Godbound of Might.

Make me the usual attack roll, friend.
When you are done with these cretins, you can free the villagers, and decide 'what next'.

Xin's initial charge missed but he continued on undaunted. He couldn't let them get away, "I'll be right back! The others don't have a barrier to protect them."

08:07, Today: Xin rolled 18 using 1d20+12 with rolls of 6.  Attack.

His charge didn’t do any actually harm to the gathered hyena-men, other than to shoulder charge several out of his way, but it did put Xin within striking range of those around the wagons.

      - rolled 8 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 4.  Attack Xin.
Yet, neither did any spear or sword get laid upon Xin, either.

And as he came through the mob of mongrel men, Xin realised that while there were villagers in cages upon the wagons, and others tied beside it, the wagon train was not yet ready to move out.
The mongrel men were still in the process of subduing and recapturing ‘uncooperative villagers’ ... such as the ones who’d fled into the hills ... and looting the village of any valuable resources.

Xin breathed a sigh of relief before turning back on the group with renewed vigor. He wasn't too late to save these people. He slammed into the group shattering weapons and bone as a shockwave rolled off his shoulder and through the plains, "If you want to live, I suggest you drop your weapons and run!"



10:29, Today: Xin rolled 7 using 1d8 with rolls of 7.  Fray.

I forgot it last round.

10:28, Today: Xin rolled 30 using 1d20+12 with rolls of 18.  Attack.
10:28, Today: Xin rolled 14 using 1d12+4 with rolls of 10.  Damage.
10:29, Today: Xin rolled 2 using 1d8 with rolls of 2.

      -rolled 12 using 2d6 with rolls of 6,6.  morale check 9+.
At Xin's threat, the current mob of mongrel men paused a moment ... they looked at each other to see if any of their comrades were going to break ...

When not one of them intended to do so, they all, as one unit, turned back to Xin,
Screamed their bestial little war cries,
And charged him on mass.

Not that it didn't any good.
      - rolled 8 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 4.  attack against Xin.
Their puny attacks, while terrifying to villagers and rodents, were impotent.
To Xin, it almost felt like being mauled by a school of guppies.

Xin shrugged at their charge, "Brave..." He swung his mighty fist once again, missing but the sheer devastation his strength still caused was concerning, "But foolish." He continued to mow down and dwindle their numbers.

14:19, Today: Xin rolled 15 using 1d20+12 with rolls of 3.  Attack.

14:19, Today: Xin rolled 5 using 1d8 with rolls of 5.  Fray.

The villagers, all tied and bound in various ways, tried hard to avoid the conflict before them, as Xin continued to beat the bestial buggers into submission.

And the skirmish just became ridiculous, at this point.   Comedic, one might say ... as the hyena-men, scared and angry and confused began simply falling over themselves in conflicting efforts to get at Xin, or away from Xin, or ... well, it was hard to say, really, what some of them were trying to do.
     - rolled 5 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 1.  Attack Xin.
       A natural '1'.   Im not going to make another Moral check just yet, instead, I'm going to say:
The creatures were so unhinged and uncohesive now, that several of them, in their antics and desires to attack or flee (or both simultaneously, in some case) managed to simply harm their fellow Mongrel Men.

A spear jab here, an uncalculated sword swipe there ...
    They were hurting themselves just as badly as Xin was.
     Mongrel Men take an additional 1HD damage from their own 'friendly' (incompetent) fire.


Mongrel Men small mob down to 22HD.

Xin knew all of his fights weren't going to go this well but it was still very amusing to watch. Possibly too amusing as he missed another attack from stifling his laughter.

21:56, Today: Xin rolled 18 using 1d20+12 with rolls of 6.  Attack.
21:56, Today: Xin rolled 6 using 1d8 with rolls of 6.  Fray.

Eve the caged and tied villagers were heartened by this turn of events.
Until a minute ago, they were being brutalised and herded by these savage, weapon wielding beasts ... and now, someone had arrived among them whom seemed by far their superior in savagery, and the Mongrel Men were now scampering and screaming like the dogs they resembled.

The hyena-Men were now chaotically, yet incessantly attack Xin, as though driven by some primal, pack mind ... attempting to mob and swamp him, to over come him by sheer force of number.
       - rolled 17 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 13.  Attack Xin.
It wasn’t working.

Xin was simply destroying them ... throwing them around like rag dolls.   Like the proverbial lion against the hyena pack, they didn’t stand a chance against him.



Mongrel Men Large mob  now down to 18HD

Xin just wasn't having it from the upright canines, cutting down the group to a baker's dozen. He had honestly lost count of the amount he had already taken out. He could see the end and it was nigh.

19:02, Today: Xin rolled 32 using 1d20+12 with rolls of 20.  Attack.
19:04, Today: Xin rolled 11 using 1d12+4 with rolls of 7.  Damage.
19:05, Today: Xin rolled 5 using 1d8 with rolls of 5.  Fray.

Wow, a natural '20' now; again in Xin's benefit.   Lets see if this breaks the little bastards.
- Mongrel Man rolled 4 using 2d6 with rolls of 1,3.  Morale 9.
it seems not.   But something has to happen.   How about this ...


As the bloodshed continued, it reminded Xin of a story he'd heard long ago; about how fishermen would chum the waters when sharks were around ... and it would drive the sharks into a feeding frenzy within which they would begin feeding on themselves.

While the bestial, Mongrel Men were swarming him, just going crazy with some kind of battle-driven bloodlust, they were attacking each other also ... and the chaos that ensued was mayhem.

- Mongrel Man rolled 23 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 19.  Attack Xin and each other.
- Mongrel Man rolled 7 using 1d8+1 with rolls of 6.  damage to Xin.
And even though Xin was throwing these things around like rag-dolls, and snapping them like the proverbial twigs ... it didn't stop the sheer onslaught of crazed, wounded animals.
He felt a sword find purchase into his thigh, and a set of fangs sink into his shoulder from behind.

But it wasn't just Xin taking damage from the beastmen pack, and two among their own number fell to the sheer brutality and frenzy of their fellows.
Xin takes 2HP damage; but the Mob also takes 2HD damage.




Xin is currently on 8HP.
The Mob of Mongrel Men is now down to 11HD.

Things were getting crazy but as long as their focus was on him or themselves, he felt like he could make it through the worst of it. He grabbed the mongrel that bit him and slammed him into the one that caught his thigh.

01:13, Today: Xin rolled 25 using 1d20+12 with rolls of 13.  Attack.
01:13, Today: Xin rolled 7 using 1d12+4 with rolls of 3.  Damage.
01:13, Today: Xin rolled 1 using 1d8 with rolls of 1.  Fray.

- rolled 5 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 1.  Attack Xin and each other.
... a Natural ‘1’ !     I think that is as prophetic as it comes.
This combat is over: and Xin to focus on doing ‘what comes next’


And even as Xin casually tossed these few around, the hoard of bestial soldiers descended into a blood lust of self destruction.
Now, no longer concerned with Xin or the villagers, the beast men were simply turning upon themselves in a frenzy of self hatred.

Some ran, some blindly attacked their brethren ... and so many of them died.

Xin was easily able to extricate himself from the insane skirmish, and could focus on getting villagers to safety.

Xin shook his head as he stepped away from the chaos. He's not exactly sure what happened but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He did wonder if the mongrel men worked for their master willing though. They too could just be slaves ut right they were the enemy and others needed his help more.

He moved over to the wagon, beginning to free the bound villagers, "I wouldn't worry about them anymore."

It was possible that the mongrel men might not work willingly for the Lord of Flies, but either way, looking at them now, Xin was left with the image of a rather pathetic race of creatures.   Angry, submissive, immature creatures that seemed destined to be abused and tossed aside by some uncaring god who probably used them as the two west form of servitude.

As the last of the mongrel’s viciously attacked each other, or turned tail and ran, Xin was able to release the villagers.
And they were very grateful for his rescue: many hugging him, with tears, or thanking him profusely.

While the mongrel men were pathetic, they were bestial and aggressive ... and armed.  The villagers hadn’t actually stood a chance against the hyena-men, and many had died resisting the creatures.   Some successfully fled.  But many more had been rounded up, with the evident goal of transporting them somewhere.


An hour later, there was no sign of living mongrel men; just the littering of dead bodies all about the village.
As Xin had released the villagers, they had in turn released more ... and those who’d fled into the rocky hills had returned.
Now, what was left of the village community miller around looking at the destruction and bodies, wondering what they were to do next.  With so many of their number dead, it would be hard to make this community productive.  And they had no idea what to do with all these dead bodies.

More than a few sets of eyes were turning towards Xin, looking for guidance.


Xin was now several days travel out from that small port town of Cazak’s Crag; and both the villages that he’d come across were similarly desolate and desperate as his home ... but the disease here, that was slowly festering down from yonder mountains, was a disturbing difference.

Looking up into the mountains, Xin wondered about this ‘Lord of the Flies’:  Lagren, they called him, a god of disease.
Who’d sent hyena-men to round up and gather humans ... for what purpose?
What was it he was striving for?  What was he trying to achieve?


Regardless, Xin had to make some decisions.
Would he stop to aid these people? Or simply move on?
He could take charge here; he sensed that these people would follow his lead.  Or he could attempt to create a gathering of leaders from among them, and help them make some decisions of their own.
The wagons that the hyena’s had brought were a fantastic resource, should they decide to move ... perhaps back to the previous village that Xin had encounters, with the hope of integrating there ... or perhaps even as far as Cazak’s Crag?

Xin smiled as he shook his head, as the people hugged and thanked him, I'm really not gonna make my deadline at this rate.

There was really no choice to it in his mind, he was going to help them. The best choice was just a little less obvious this go around. He didn't think the last village could support a sudden influx of people but it was definitely free of disease and injected with a new spirit of hope and life. At Cazak's Crag, Xin still had its leader to deal with and while easy for him, no telling what the inhospitable environment would do to regular people. Long travel was out for the time being, Here or back...

"We need to bury your dead, move the mongrels if not burn them and take stock of what and who is left. Then, you can mourn for those who have passed. On the morrow, I'm sure you will feel better and we'll be able to decide on the next step." With the Xin, began gathering the mongrels and moving any debris that was too heavy for anyone else. His plan was to cure the disease that plagued this village once his effort returned until then he could only fix their bodies.

The rest of the day was spent clearing the village, and cleaning up.
The wagons were collected to one side of the village; and the weapons from the mongrel men pulled in one cart.   Their armour was a mish-mash of scavenged armour, badly altered to fit the hyena-folk.  Additionally, as I’ll kept as it was, there was little of use to humans.

The enemy bodies were piled in a rut far outside town, by hauling them in a wagon for about an hour.
The bodies of the fallen villagers, however, were collected, and examined by the village adults.   If they showed any signs of the ‘Padding’ disease, the body was hauled far from the village and left with others ... in fact, at that first mass grave site that Xin had stumbled upon when he came into sight of this village. 

Any bodies that seemed clean of the disease, which was most of them, were reserved for a proper burial closer to the village, in its traditional ‘resting ground’.

The village had accepted Xin far easier than the last had, possibly due to his efforts that had rescued them. In fact, he was much more than accepted, he was welcomed ... the villagers showing immense gratitude to their saviour.

Come evening, a village meal was prepared.   And, as Xin had suggested, the mourning began.
And while Xin was still welcomed among them, he now felt apart from them somewhat: for even as their ‘savior’, he wasn’t one of them, and hadn’t lost anyone important to him during the attack.

When the villagers started to move the diseased bodies away from the others, he told them there wouldn't be a need for that. In the morning, they would find that weight would be lifted and they would soon have a choice to make about their future. He still needed to know who could do what among them and what they had lost but since the mourning had begun, he would wait until morning.

The night was awkward.
The villagers were in morning for their dead ... but also, although glad for Xin's presence, unsure who this young man was.  And as the evening pressed on, that suspicion slowly grew ... though not enough to overcome their appreciation for what he'd done.

Of course, Xin didn't need to sleep, but the villagers did ... and they desperately needed that rest.
The night was long, left effectively alone in a strange village for a night, with nothing to do.
        Please feel free to describe what Xin does during the night

The morning's light invigorated Xin's divine spirit, and he felt all his Effort return to him.

Xin continued working through the night, digging graves, moving bodies and rubble. Whatever manual labor the village needed to be done was done by sunrise and when it came, they would find their home and dead free of disease. He had also worked the fields and did most of the morning chores. For a farmer's son, it was a familiar and comforting routine.

The sheer amount of work and chores that our tireless and Mighty hero could achieve during the night was staggering to comprehend.
When the village arose the next morning, they could barely comprehend what this unusual visitor had done for them.

These were a shattered, but not broken, people.   Overcome by loss, and having been terrorised and witnesses bloodshed beyond their experiences just the previous day, emotions were both dulled and confused.
But they recognised with gratitude what had been done for them by Xin; yesterday and during the night.
He was, in every way, their saviour.


Having cleansed the village of plague and disease, Xin had once again felt the plagues source as coming from the mountains yonder.
          And now that he has, you could spend one of your Dominion Points* to Decree through your celestial might, that the village will remain that way. 

The ‘plague’ that was spreading from yonder direction seemed to be a combination of disease ... the common cold, and other ailments.   They were not so much driven outwards from the mountains, but more encouraged, and fed.
BUT there was an unusual  one among them, he sensed: something that was unnatural to this world.   Maybe a disease specifically engineered by this ‘Lord of Flies’.

He remembered the corpses he’d seen earlier the day before ...
It was this disease that was not natural to this world ... and Xin senses that while it didn’t rely on the other earthly diseases, it rode in their wake, taking advantage of people’s ill health and lowered immunity.


As the village awoke, and were surprised to find Xin still among them (and the work he had done), they found themselves heartier and healthier ... and happier.
And they showed Xin their gratitude through offerings of food and friendship.  Among them, he saw Suzette and her daughter moving; as well as the boy who’s mother had been arrow-shot (although she was lying somewhere else, recovering from her wounds, undoubtedly).

With his celestial might, Xin did just that. No longer would this village be plague but he did have a nagging feeling to now examine those plants in the cemetery. He would kindly refuse their offering of food, they would need it more then him but friendship was always welcomed.

Still, he needed to check on the boy and his mother. In all of the turmoil, he had nearly forgotten and that barrier that was protecting them. He made have found another like him. He would approach the young one, extending his hand, "I name is Xin, may I know your's?"

The kid was impressed with this mighty stranger ... but still, Xin was a stranger, and so the mid’s enthusiasm was tempered by great caution.
“Virson”, he replied, to uncertain to shake Xin’s hand though.

Xin guesses that Virson was maybe 8’ish.   Independent enough to be about the village himself, but still young enough to need his mother’s attention.  Xin saw no father figure hovering nearby.

“Are ... are you a monster, mister?”
The thought did t seem to bother Virson; so long as Xin was their monster.

Xin couldn't help but smile at the innocence of a child, "Maybe..." He could understand that misconception. He didn't know any human who's skin could turn blades, hands that could tear through men, "But I don't know a lot of monsters that can cure the sick and end diseases. A better question is, how's your mom and did she put at that barrier? Or was it you?" He's genuinely curious if the was another like him.

Virson looked up at Xin with a squint of curiosity.
Then, indicating behind him with a thumb, he said, "Mam's over in Cheril's place.  She ain't supposed to be doing anything, or getting many visitors, see.  And Cheril's taken care of where thems dogmen shot her.   Even I get shooed out of there mos' of the time".

Then, with a cocked head, he asked, "Could you break a tree in half with your bare hands?
Preston says you could break a tree in half with your bare hands"
It seemed that young Virson felt that one good answer deserved another.

Meanwhile, Xin noticed that he was becoming somewhat stalked by the children of the village, who were watching from veiled and out of the way places.  Even now, two small faces peered out from behind some barrels nearby, and another kid was peeking around the site of another cabin.

Xin simply nodded, waving to the kids hiding, "Yes I can. Now, hopefully, I can be one of those few visitors." From there, he made his way to Cheril's home.

There was no-one to prevent Xin from entering.   In a village like this, any news spread quicker than disease.  And if Cheril had said 'no visitors', then nobody visited.

Xin found the front door closed, and the eyes of those nearby watching intently to see what he would do.

Xin would simply let himself in if this door was unlocked or knock if it was. He wasn't going to rip the door off its hinges.

The door was unlocked.   In truth, in a village like this, it was unlikely even to have such a mechanism.
Everyone here knew each other, and nothing happened that wasn't seen by someone.

The interior was darkened; while the sun shone brightly outside, heavy curtains held the daylight at bay, mostly.

As Xin's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he began to take in the huts layout and furnishing: sparse by efficient, with extra tables around the walls, apparently as workspace for ... herbal efforts?

Movement to his right caught his attention, and a woman rose from a chair there, quietly demanding, "I said no visitors.  Who's that, anyway?"
It seemed that with the door still partially obscuring him, and the sunlight behind silhouetting him, the woman hadn't identified him yet.

"No one really, just the man who saved the village," Xin stepped out from the shadows. "I just wanted to know if you made that barrier."