Nizz

A slender goblin, around the average height for her kind. Looks a lot more civilised than the average goblin, after her exile, having been introduced to the concept of bathing, and the marvellous tool known as a hair brush. She has naturally coarse hair that is physically, chemically, and magically coerced into behaving how she wants it to behave, undercut on her left side, and hanging long on her right. A dyed white stripe has been added to the leading edge of her hair.

Her eyes are a sharp yellow green, appearing much like a cat's eyes, highly reflective in the dark. Her teeth are similar to a shark, jagged looking and pointy. Her ears are similarly pointy, angled slightly back, her right ear is missing a few notches, which is usually obscured by her hair. The left ear seems to be in perfect condition, apart from a pair of silver earrings that dangle from near the tip of it. Her face, according to any member of her tribe, is considered to be a hideous abomination, and a crime against goblin kind. Naturally, a more civilised race looking on her wouldn't see anything particularly ugly, and could even be considered somewhat fair if they were bent that way.

Her normal clothing could be considered a little strange in design, with a monochromatic colour pallet to boot. A black, asymmetrical skirt, held by a white leather belt with a few pouches hanging from it, along with a bridle with a shiny steel rapier, with a swept silver hilt. A black leather cuirass, secured on her right side with short white belts and silvered buckles, with a turtle-necked sleeveless undershirt beneath. A pair of small belts were also clasped around her upper bicep, mostly to accessorise, but usable as a tourniquet in a pinch. She wears a tight silver bracelet on her wrist. A pair of black, ankle-length boots finishes her outfit, also two tone, with white laces providing the contrast.

Born to a pair of rather typical Goblins, a mother known only as Ratstealer, a somewhat competent raider and a rather unremarkable father by the name of Razzo, whose claim to fame within the tribe was the ability to count to ten without looking at his hands. She was part of a litter of five, and partook in such charming goblin games, such as "Eat the runt", "Skullball", and "Pin the tail on the Worg". By age five, she was well on the way to becoming an member of the tribe in good standing. One particular day a set of adventurers came to clear out the cave, as their frequent raiding had become a nuisance to the local town. They were quite effective at their task, reducing the tribe to a quarter of the original size; a raiding band had been outside when the invasion happened, and the younger goblins were adept at hiding in hard to find places. However, outside of her hidey-hole, one of the adventurers lost an item in the chaos of the fight. A book, and not even a particularly important book: A treatise on the history of theatre. Seeing an opportunity for her first piece of loot, she snatched it, stashing it in her hidey-hole.

After the raiding band had returned, the new prospective leaders of the tribe settled the matter at hand, a brawl with the last goblin standing becoming the new chief. Nizz was largely irrelevant to these proceedings, and often spent time looking through her new prize. She couldn't understand any of the words, being an illiterate savage, but the pictures were pretty, displaying scenes from various humanoid plays. This would be the catalyst to ignite the spark of her imagination, often coming up with her own narratives to what the scenes meant, even if they were somewhat limited by her Goblin-centric perspective, and were often nothing at all to do with the actual scenes displayed.

The diminished nature of the tribe had meant that competition for survival had not been quite so fierce, and she was not quite as disposable as she would have been otherwise, even considering her hideous countenance. She was around eight or so when disturbing and aberrant behaviour manifested. Nizz often found herself acting as an arbiter of disputes among her age group, quelling infighting when she could (with around a fifteen percent success rate). A scene from her book, depicting two men casting their swords away while shaking hands, a third divine-seeming creature stared at in what the young goblin had interpreted as a look of reverence had convinced her that she could end up being worshipped by her kin by bringing them together.

As she would come to learn (much, much later), the scene had depicted the two humans putting aside their differences to slay the god that had put their two countries at odds for centuries, tricking them into conflict to amass further power. The true depiction was perhaps most apt, as the belligerents often turned on Nizz for sticking her nose in where it didn't belong. This behaviour certainly didn't endear her to the clan leadership, who openly reacted with shock, panic, and disgust.

A few weeks after her tenth birthday, the clan was close to being at full strength again, having absorbed a few nomadic goblin tribes. It wasn't too long after that when her prized treasure, dog eared and damaged so many years later, was found. The chief had finally had enough, declaring her not-goblin, and had her dragged out to the roadside with her tome of lies, shanked in the stomach, and left for dead.

As she lay by the road, face down, and barely clinging to life, something of a miracle happened. A travelling bardic troupe had noticed her lying on the roadside and clutching something. Curious by nature, one of them broke off to retrieve whatever it was she was holding, and had soon after made the startling discovery she was still alive. A brief argument broke out about whether or not to deliver a coup de grâce, or to save her wretched life. Fortunately for all involved, the troupe leader Llewellyn Tarmikos had convinced them all to err on the side of mercy, one of his more convincing arguments being that she was a fan of the performing arts, and that she was holding the evidence of such a fact herself.

A specialist among them in the arts of healing, a tiefling known by the name of Symphony, staunched the bleeding, and knit together the worst of her wounds, though she was still in a weakened state. Another brief debate surrounding the morality of leaving someone they'd saved to fend for themselves in the wilderness ended up with her being left on the back of the cart to be taken with them, at least until she convalesced. That's what they'd initially thought, in any case.

These philosophical concerns went right over the head of Nizz. Her education wasn't exactly centred with the nature of morality, focusing more on the value of a good sharpened stick, and how many head injuries it would take to fend off someone trying to steal your cave rat lunch. In any case, she didn't understand a word anyone was saying, not being proficient in common. She was understandably docile after her near death experience, which likely helped the decision to take her along.

Over the next day, she suffered what she had then thought to be the most traumatic experience of her life, a bath. It was more for the sake of the troupe than for her, and a prerequisite of her continued travel with them. After she was scrubbed raw, the tangles in her hair were brushed out, with frequent yelps of pain accompanying the determined brush strokes. She was then furnished with a change of clothes, made from cotton, rather than the animal skins and rags she had managed to amass living among the tribe. It was a simple outfit, a tunic, a set of breeches, and some leather shoes. It didn't matter to her though, it was the softest and cleanest thing she had ever worn, and it worked wonders at allowing her to forget the previous torment she had endured, and the gnomish minstrel Thiran Snowcaller had been happy to donate the set.

Nizz travelled with the group to their next destination, a small town located next to a winding stream, surrounded by woodland. Before entering, she was given a hood and told to hide in the cart while they put on their performance. It wasn't quite easy to communicate, but through various games of charades and pointing, the message had gotten through. She observed quietly from her hiding spot, and had the worst view of the hastily constructed stage, watching as the actors performed for the locals. It didn't take too long for the cogs to start spinning in her head. The costumes were ones she had recognised, the motions and gestures playing out in front of her could have been ripped from her cherished tome. She was enthralled by the performance, even if she didn't understand a single word being said.

The goblin's rapture hadn't gone unnoticed. Symphony, having to disguise her appearance, had been told to keep an eye on her to make sure she caused no trouble. When she was convinced of the goblin's self-hypnotism, she started digging around in the troupe's collection of tomes and literature, an idea forming in her head. It took several days of reading, learning, and practising, but eventually the tiefling had cobbled together the theory to perform the Comprehend Language spell. With a casting of the spell on Nizz, and a casting on herself, Symphony would eventually come to realise that this was one of the major mistakes she had made in her life. The goblin would not shut up.

There were questions. Many questions. Who were they? What was happening on the stage? Why did they save her, only to torture her shortly afterwards? What was her book about? Symphony spent a lot of time answering the Goblin, duties permitting, satisfying a curiosity she hadn't known existed. The look of heartbreak on Nizz's face as the spell wore off was devastating to the tiefling, but she vowed to at least spend an hour every day speaking to their new ward, and to teach her common so that such a trick would no longer be needed.