"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.