Couldn’t find another tag, so I guess I have to start (Oh, and @aminitacarrow, more Nizana-stuff if you are interested). This WIP takes place a few decades before BG3, when Nizana (Tav) had just started adventuring. The first time she travelled alone since being “adopted” by the monastery. But her first outings as an adventurer were complicated by the fact that she is a drow and thus she wasn’t always welcomed with open arms:
Once day was but a fading red glow on the horizon, Nizana emerged from the forest. Soundless and swift as a cat, she climbed a tree next to the town wall, from where she watched the streets empty.
Soon they started lighting lamps along the main streets, her sign to check the wall one last time. Two guards walked past and disappeared into a wooden watchtower, closing the door behind them. Now or never. Nizana stepped onto a sturdy-looking branch and jumped.
Her feet touched down on a thatched roof inside the walls, sliding a little on the smooth reeds before she found her balance. There were no shouts, no hasty movements around her. It seemed no one had noticed her intrusion.
Quickly, she left the roof, lowering herself into an empty alley, the windows surrounding her all dark without exception. Hugging the shadows like an old friend, she adjusted her hood and the cloth covering most of her face, making sure they were secure. Nothing of her skin showed, only what little there was around her eyes, which would turn their normal amber, when she stepped into the light and her darkvision was no longer needed.
And so Nizana slipped into the streets, looking like just another traveller. At least she hoped. It wasn’t far to one of the inns along the main road and few crossed her path. There was perhaps a brief look here or there, but no one seemed to pay her any real attention.
The inn was brightly lit, a beacon in the night, the sound of a dozen conversations trying to drown each other coming through the thick, wooden doors, which were covered with the design of an upright bear holding a tankard. As her hand grasped the handle, the smell of beer, roasted meat and pipe smoke filled Nizana’s nose, intense but not entirely unpleasant after tendays alone on the road. Gods sometimes she still missed the monastery.
Nizana blinked as her eyes got used to the bright interior, the dry air, a big fireplace and a few wooden chandeliers lighting the great hall. It was busy, with groups gathered around almost every available table, a few locals by the looks of it, but plenty of outsiders, given the gear beside chairs or leaning against walls. Most patrons were humans, but as Nizana headed for the counter, she spotted halfings, dwarves, a tiefling or two and even a dragonborn. A small comfort.
The man, who Nizana presumed to be the innkeeper since he directed other members of the staff and shouted something into the kitchen in the back, only noticed her when she had already taken a seat at the counter, a few stools away from the next patron. The innkeeper frowned, but his expression was quizzical rather than cross.
“No service unless you show your face, lass,” he told her.
“I’m not staying – just looking for a warm meal.” Nizana put some coins on the counter, more than was perhaps reasonable.
He simply shook his head. “All the same. What? Didn’t they teach you manners where you’re from?”
Nizana hesitated, but while the innkeeper was busy tending to another guest who had shown up during their brief exchange, she pulled down the cloth covering her mouth and nose. Hopefully the shadow of the hood would make the purple of her skin less obvious.
“Come now, hood too,” the innkeeper said as he handed another patron a pint, without properly looking at her.
It was a risk. The guards hadn’t let her into town, but maybe here they saw enough strange folk to let her stay. Nizana took a quick look around, mapping a path to the door or the nearest windows before she removed her hood.
Only now did the innkeeper turn to her, but before she could say anything, his eyes widened. “Fucking drow. Thomas!”
Chairs moved, and she heard someone curse behind her, followed by the sound of blades being drawn from their sheaths. Oh shit! There were guards in here, just not in uniform. This would get ugly. Always did. With the faint hope of not having to hurt these people, Nizana turned around, deliberately showing her empty hands.
“Hey, you’re the one who tried to get in this morning.” She didn’t recognise the man, older than the ones who had turned her away, but if he was an officer of sorts, he’d probably been told; drow were a rare sight after all, and even she had never seen another one. For now her eyes followed the blade pointing at her chest to the bare hand holding it aloft, several ways of breaking it or disarming him less painfully coming to mind. His conduct would be the deciding factor. “You’d think scouts would be more careful.”
This was new, and Nizana was unsure what the man was referring to. “Scouts? I’m not a scout.”
But he either wasn’t listening or didn’t believe her. “Brennan, tell the others we got a drow. Let’s double the number we got doing nights. No telling when the raiders gonna show.” Oh – that is what he thought she was.
“There are no raiders. I came here alone.” He said it himself; a real scout would be more careful, but apparently her being inept or an idiot was more plausible than a drow living her own life on the surface. Nizana bit back the frustration, along with some colourful remarks dancing on the tip of her tongue. “I... I’m an adventurer.” What was the point? They wouldn’t believe her.
“Should have prepared a more believable cover story, witch. Now move; I still got some questions.”
None of her muscles so much as twitched. “I’m not going with you. I have nothing to tell, and you’ll try to kill me as soon as you realise that.” They wouldn’t succeed, but saying so out loud would undoubtedly be considered a threat. And by now everyone in the inn was paying attention to them, all conversations having died down, except for the occasional whisper. How many would jump to his aid, when a drow dared to defend herself?
The blade touched her clothes. “I said move.”
A Fist of Unbroken Air would knock him across the room and into several other patrons who could potentially block her way. There was no one at the door; she could make it without having to break too many bones. While she didn't like being forced to do this, Nizana knew she wouldn’t exactly lose sleep over those she'd break either.
Then she saw a tall dragonborn approach, the one she had noticed earlier. He was of the brass kind, with shimmering scales of dusky yellow with undertones of green and grey, and laid a hand on the guardsman’s shoulder.
“Easy there. She’s with my group.”
What now? Surely she had misheard.
The human turned his head, without lowering his blade, frowning at the stranger. “She didn’t come to town with you all.”
“She’s new; we set up the meeting here.” The dragonborn lowered his head, his sharp teeth showing as his voice turned cold. “Though that was before I became aware of the regional hospitality.”
Nizana watched as the blade moved away from her chest until it hovered between the drow and the dragonborn. A well-armoured one at that, though not a warrior; no, she could sense it in his Ki.
“I’d hate to argue with a paladin.” That explained it. Nizana spotted the ornamentation on his pauldron, winding branches, and the real twines around his scabbard. Oath of Ancients? It seemed good enough for the human, or maybe he just didn’t want to press a fight against an armed opponent. “Alright – if you vouch for her. And you don’t let her out of your sight.”
“I do and I won’t,” her unexpected saviour promised. After giving her one last look, dripping with disdain, the guardsman put his blade away and returned to his table, while the dragonborn addressed her for the first time, with a tone several degrees warmer than just a moment ago. “This way; our table is just over there.”
Nizana grabbed the coins she’d put on the counter and followed him as the conversations around them resumed, aside from a few more curious glances. The paladin led her to a table at one of the windows, where two were already seated, adventurers most likely. One was a tiefling with green skin, brown hair and horns, a bow leaning against her chair, eying Nizana up with unveiled curiosity. The other was a dwarf with silver beads braided into his black beard, a lute beside his backpack. His eyes narrowed when they met Nizana’s, but he didn’t say anything.
Despite the lack of overt animosity, Nizana hesitated until the dragonborn pointed her towards one of the empty chairs, his smile looking rather sincere, reaching his orange glowing eyes. Slowly, avoiding sudden moves, Nizana sat down opposite of the paladin, unsure of what was going to happen. He’d lied to the guardsman, but the group was real; it just didn’t include her... yet.
The dragonborn leaned forward and pushed his untouched-looking jug towards her. “My name is Theron,” he introduced himself. “Now, you said you’re an adventurer?”
This is also part/snippet of “Into the Sun”, a series of one-shots exploring Nizana’s past before the game. Basically each chapter is meant to be a conversation or other interaction between her and one of the original six companions, meant to reveal aspects of her past. I already posted the one with Astarion, when he walks by the fire and the tadpole connection accidently drags him into her nightmares/memories of getting hunted by guards in Neverwinter (link here) and this one would be part of a story she shares with Wyll, when they talk about how they each started out.
And more Theron: Overview & photomode pictures.
Gently tagging for whenever you need one or have something to share @elceewunjo, @missfortunetherogue, @ranger-jahen, @spillingteanotpermitted, @play-me-a-durge & @izumiphoenix
