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.