Master Kinsilvi's page

"A traditional trial will be long and costly, Lord Green, if not... it will be viewed as a mockery.. where justice serves the whim of the self-anointed." He relaxes slightly, unbuttons his vest, and sits on the bench in the cell.
He remains plain-faced, but does allow himself to make eye-contact.
"And if my insidious plans are troubling to you... I'm inclined to believe it'd be better for our dispute to be settled with clashing steel... or some such thing."

The cells are particularly musty after the recent flood. You reach the last one on the left... past Nihtscada, and Hyassus. Kinsilvi is standing with noble posture (as if posing for a portrait) a few feet from his cell door.
"To my hosts, I will be succinct... to minimize suffering my presence."
He keeps his chin up, and keeps his eyes fixed above your heads.
"I wish to invoke my right to trial by combat. I am well aware you would feel discontented should I find victory, therefore I propose my victory would grant exile. Should I fail... I would be granted the end you seek."

Kinsilvi is silent... his lips quiver, his eyes tear up....
He snorts and giggles, then throws his head back cackling madly while tears stream down his face.
"Driven to damnation! Ha ha!"

Kesten motions the two guards over. They move to either side - ready to move him out on a word or nod.

Kinsilvi steadies his breathing, then... "Soul and body I offer to those they truly feared. Who? The true wild.. Who? Unknowable power... Who? Beyond your reach! Ha ha! Nameless godless power! Find me.. dead or in chains... I will march at your side when the darkness falls upon these-" Kesten gags him.

When Green mentions the "second stage"... Kinsilvi shows a hint of realization, and shakes his head ruefully. "It's true. I thought not of Flaudeshrog's endgame, but only of my own gain. My love who now.. will never return... my love.. blinded me." Kesten gives him an unsympathetic little arm tug.
Kinsilvi has no answer or comment for the remainder or after.

"The ghost of my love... my sweet Luwinni Lurleton.... In death she'd realized her error in rejecting my courtship, and found a way to return."

With this admission, his tone becomes slightly less indignant and slightly more desperate (but hopeful)... as if this is his last and best chance to make Lord Ambrosi understand.
"The man below is a master of life and death. He'd sworn to do bring her back - flesh and blood... in return for my efforts. There are far more kobolds than need be in the world under our feet... the regrettable remorse over culling their number - wielding a weapon of nature... a small price to pay. I assure you. I have neither reason nor desire to move against you or your kingdom, My Lord. I apologize for my outburst, and how my actions have brought offense to your moral code. There may come a time when your kingdom would benefit from such a weapon in its arsenal."

Green is on map and up, then enemy

"Our concern, master Kinvilsi, lies with the people of these lands." Norton's tone gives away the fact that for people he means humans "Are you sure this disease won't spread outside the clans?"

Kinsilvi scoffs and turns his head away... "As far as explaining to you how that is nigh impossible, I wouldn't know where to start."

Kinsilvi - who'd been looking a little "vacant", takes a moment before answering. "The Kobolds under these lands - and countless miles around... Seven Bloods Clans. Each clan had its chieftains, shamans, war leader and such, but the Embermaw led them all. Sootscales, Stonebacks, Ratpool... Whiptail...." He half turns and gestures toward the back to indicate the nearby kobolds as the Whiptail.
"All but the Whiptail conspired against the Embermaw, and intended to eliminate them completely... by poisoning the well.. essentially. The Whiptail discovered this, and informed the Embermaw of the horrific plan. War broke out immediately. All clans suffered heavy losses. The Stonebacks were nearly wiped out. And by the end, the Embermaw were no more."

"They had their victory... yet after the war had ended, they branded the Whiptail as traitors. They marched the survivors to the surface, and bound them to die of exposure."

"They will still have their revenge. I find it hard to believe you will find anyone both able to fathom my work, and willing to trudge out here to these... unpleasantly rural environs. Disease spreads... and this one... wildfire. You will see how they look after they are off their medicine for a day."
"I do look forward to seeing how you will appear coming for my help, because on day three you will be burying them all."

Kinsilvi grabs a book near at hand, and throws it across the room... letting out the last of his tantrum.
He then takes a couple breaths, straightens his errant locks, and smooths his jacket.... "No... certainly not. I will comply." Though he does glower at Hyassus as he passes, Kinsilvi goes willingly to the front porch where Kesten and his two men intercept him.

Kinsilvi slams his fist onto the counter - leaving it clenched there as if nailing himself to the spot. "This is not happening. I'll not bow to the naive moralities of self-anointed kings.... Is this the freckled nag upon which civilization comes riding? Bah! Injustice! Classless degenerate fools, bestial thugs, and abominations! I'll not bow now, I'll not bow ever!"

He raises a finger in warning, lowers his chin and shakes his head... "I have allies, mind you... powerful allies. Allies who'll not stand idly by. You'll come to rue this day. You'll see. You... all of you... you are all just... flesh... and bone. Such flimsy things wither and snap upon my allies' slightest whims."

The old woman Janille stands in the doorway... Hyassus behind. They make no move toward interfering. In fact, Janille cringes with each angry word from Kinsilvi, then covers her face and shudders as he unhinges. Hyassus pats her shoulder.

Kinsilvi's face brightens for a brief moment as he looks to Furiel, but he quickly puts it together. "Wh- why no... " He shakes his head. "You don't understand... why send our boys to die in battle, when creation offers other tools with which to wage war. Bah! This is just the foolish dullardry I'd anticipated. Only one who does not understand disease fears using it as a weapon.... What these kobolds suffer is nothing with the knowledge they will bring down the clans who'd - Tell them Boolna!"

Boolna the kobold looks confused... she does not speak or act.

Kinsilvi does not yield to Sonechka... until Norton utters the word "disease". At that moment, she is able to easily slip past without impediment.

"Boolna? Our young lords here wish to see how your kin are treated here. If you would show them around."

To Furiel he responds "I will be certain to oblige your request as soon as humanly possible.", as he casually shuts a pair of books on the countertop. He then repeats "Boolna?" while turning to one of two kobolds who'd been washing beakers and vials in the big farmhouse sink.
The female kobold snaps out of her daze, and nods. "Yes Master Kinsilvi." She steps up and bows.

"Urgent matter? Is that so?"
"Yes, of course... sirs." He acknowledges Green and Furiel with a pair of slight bows.
He bows a little deeper to those he'd not yet met. "Master Dolgrym... Lady Sonechka."
There is a slight twitch in his eye, and then corner of his mouth as he looks over her feathered garb and more exotic features.

His tone is still friendly, but (having had an adversarial relationship with the Magpies in the past) his likely assumptions regarding Sonechka takes some vim out of his "pillar of the community" demeanor.
"So... lets have it... how may I be of assistance to you?"

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10

You hear a quick reactive sound from Kinsilvi as Glaza flies into the kitchen. "Sorry... many mouths to feed you know."
He then appears - toweling his hands with an apron, stepping up to the kitchen entrance with his shirt sleeves pushed to his elbows. While in the doorway, he scans the group while blocking full view of the kitchen... his expression leans toward the "Lets have it..." of a habitually disappointed father.

"What's this about Ser Ambrosi?"

"Excellent. Feel free to take your time... decisions made too quickly are signs of either deceit or foolishness." He walks you to the front door, and bids farewell.
"Best of luck to you."

Your horses are lashed to the hitching fence as you left them, and the slight sprinkle of rain has resumed.

"Yes... I'm certain we can work something out. After the tyrant you have deposed, whatever minor differences we might have to hammer out is certain to be insignificant. And thrive?"

He nods silently...
"The inheritors of the future are those who outlast their rivals. Its been burned into my brain for all my life. It would be a welcome change to do more than just outlast them."

Kinsilvi then looks over to the kobold. "I think you are finished Boolna... Tell Hyassus not to bother with the hog, we have enough here."

After a moment Boolna nods, tosses her brush into her bucket, and opens the northwest door to leave.
The reinforced wooden door opens to the back yard. A couple steps lead down to muddy patch of land between the farmhouse and coop-like structure.

Boolna hesitates at the doorway, and risks a glance at the group before continuing... her face is difficult to read.

"To the victor the spoils... Myself I'd rather fight for riches than lawbooks and edicts." He shrugs and pulls two parchments from the leather portfolio.
"Just the same... should you decide to it is in your heart to rule, I hope you feel you can count on House Kinsilvi."
He hands the papers to Norton.
The first is a charter to House Lurleton from 35 years ago, and it covers most of this land within this hex.
The second paper is a notarized transfer of ownership to Valceour Kinsilvi.

"You find few allies in these lands. I can see only good coming from a relationship mutual respect between our houses. I believe this turn of events could easily elevate us both with a few strokes of the quill. It would not be with a light heart that I would sign off on these lands, but I feel I might weather that regret better in a certain little house on the hill... with a generous stipend for returning it to its glory, of course."

"Kobolds bred in captivity are far more docile... I imagine fear of the outside world keeps them here... sheltered and fed. Those who earn my trust and have a that spark of ambition so rare in feral breeds, may hold positions of... middle management. In the end, they know the real world is far more dangerous than a hard day's work. Isn't that right Boolna?"

The kobold continues cleaning.

"Boolna?"

The kobold responds "Yes Master Kinsilvi."

The woman referred to as Janille returns, and hands Kinsilvi a leather portfolio... then leaves again.

Kinsilvi stirs the torn bread in with spices and melted butter while the apple and leek chunks simmer in bacon grease. He then turns his attention back to Norton.
"Will you be assuming the mantle of leadership with your new residence? If so, I suppose we should get to business. I am curious if you intend to honor the laws and charters of Brevoy..."

Kinsilvi looks up only as each is introduced... "Just Kinsilvi is fine. I think it confuses them when they hear other humans call me master." he cocks his head to indicate the floor-scrubbing kobold.

"Well... good show I suppose. Didn't have much trouble with him myself, but I had heard he could be unreasonable."
He moves over to the longer section of counter-space, and starts tearing dry bread into tiny chunks.

"Naturally it would have been unwise for the boy bandit to think me willing to submit,... because I don't."
"I... make deals."

As you reach the steps down into the kitchen, you see a kobold scrubbing the stone floor near one of the two purple rugs in the room.
The man addressing you stands behind a "L" of butcher-block tables with a fire-pit with cooking racks, and large kettle built within.
There is another large window behind him, and there is a closed wooden door in the northwest corner of the room.

>image<

"I am Kinsilvi please come in. Janille mentioned you have put down Nugrah's boy... Planning on settling down, are you?"
He gives you about 15 percent of his attention while cooking.