Carnival of the Black Elves
Hajarl the Mongoose
Male, Elf, Monk 3rd / Rogue 2nd
Str 12 Dex 20 Con 12 Int 14 Wis 15 Cha 12(+2 dex & +2 int, -2 con) 4th level )
+3 BAB, +3 Fort, +6 Ref, +3 Will, Bonus feat x2( Catch Off guard, Weapon Finese), Flurry of Blows, Stunning Fist, Unarmed Strike, Evasion, Sneak Attack 1d6, Trapfinding, Rogue Talent x1( Fast Stealth), Fast Movement +10’ft., Maneuver Training, Still Mind, 1st, 3rd & 5th Level Feats; (Agile Maneuvers, Point Blank Shot, Close Quarters Thrower)
Skills- 28+ 10
Acrobatics 4 ranks, 3 class, 5 abi
Bluff 3 ranks, 3 class, 3 abi
Climb 3 ranks, 3 class, 1 abi, 2 gear
Diplomacy 3 ranks, 3 class, 3 abi
Disable Device 3 ranks, 3 class, 0 abi
Escape Artist 3 ranks, 3class, 5 abi
Perception 5 ranks, 3 class, o abi
Sense Motive 3 ranks, 3 class, 0 abi
Slight of Hand 3 ranks, 3 class, 5 abi
Stealth 5 ranks, 3 class, 5 abi
Use Magic Device 3 ranks, 3 class, 3 abi
Shark Skin gloves +2 Climb checks
Spider climb slippers
Keen Kukri +1
Amulet of Natural Armor +2
Shuriken 10 on belt, 30 in scroll case on hip, 3 more scroll cases in back pack.
200’ft. Silk rope in special bag off backpack, and folding grapple hook.
Ferrus and Hajarl were on the same ship leaving Skullport, and from opposing gladiator houses. They only knew each other from reputation and watching the others battles, and decided to pair up over a jug of wine, each agreeing to let their former rivalry be a thing of slavery. Another life in the past, that both were grateful to leave behind.
Hajarl was an accomplished thief and easily financed their room and board once inside the city of Splendors with various larcenies involving the discrete disappearance of inconvienient people for people who paid well. Ferrus became involved after Hajarl was attacked while the pair ate some dinner, a retribution attack for one of his paid jobs.
Ferrus enjoyed the actual combat over his constant training of gladiators, and eagerly joined Hajarl on a mission where their target was a corpulent merchant lord that was living way too long for his heirs gambling debts to wait. Hajarl needed the muscular mans physical power to help dispose of the body after ward.
Hajarls plans worked flawlessly, getting the two inside the merchants residence, bypassing the house gaurds, killing the man in his sleep and extracting his corpse out of the house, through the streets to a butchers to be cut up and sold as dog meat. The mans forty stone weight was difficult even for both men working together. It wasnt a month before honour bound house soldiers started swarming the streets looking for their masters assassins.
Only their employer knew who was who and was not talking, but the soldiers eventually began asking questions of the heirs and lies began coming to light. The employer eventually cracked and was executed for his crime, and the soldiers homed in on Ferrus and Hajarl.
Their contacts told of their coming long before they arrived at their home in the warehouse district, and gave them time enough to escape with the majority of their riches aboard a yacht they stole from a fisherman a few towns away up the coast.
(They and their tiny crew of three hirelings ran afoul of pirates a week out of port, and became embroiled in a desperate melee where they nearly died. )
It was a bright clear summer day six days out of Calimshan, the winds were low and the blazing sun seemed to drain a body struggling to catch the feeble winds. It was shortly before nightfall when one of the mates spotted the house galley sent after them. The impossibly fast ship closed on them under power of their oars, and the staggering compliment of rowers made their escape all but impossible.
They did what they could to tack the wind but couldnt make the wind appear out of no where. They stayed up all night coaxing what little speed they could out of the wind, but the whole while, the galley closed on them. They didnt close enough to begin firing their weapons till around noon, and the obviously tired rowers were slacking off. They could hear someone screaming at the captain from over the water and the pounding of the oar masters drums.
They caught a bit of luck and the wind picked up enough for them to open the distance between the ships, and the galleys crew scrambled to set the sails to catch up, as they had not strung the sails. The wind changed after an hour and the rowers resumed their labour.
Hajarls crew were exhausted, but had only been tacking the wind for two days and a night. The galleys crew had been rowing in shifts, and were likely close to falling over. Hajarl dragged this out for another day, but made sure they were sleeping in shifts, resting for the coming battle.
The wind blew hard in the late afternoon again, and again the galley was slow to respond to the change of rigging, letting the yacht open the distance between them. The sluggish response and the widening, then slowly closing until finally the galley pulled alongside just after dark. The crew began firing their crossbows, ballistae, porcupine and windlass weapons at the small yacht and her even smaller crew of nine.
While the main weapons were reloading, Hajarl turned the yacht into the side of the galley, then leaped aboard to fight hand to hand. He threw a pair of molotovs at the crew in the rowing pits two rows on either side of where he would land. He hoped to control his flanks with fire until his crew could get in behind him.
He landed amid four men still in their rowers seats and lashed out with his Kukri and bare fist. The two he hit with the Kukri fell to the deck clutching their necks to stem the fatal flow, even as they lay in the pool of burning oil. The two he hit with his knuckles fell to shattered spine and skull. Two or their nearest companions managed to draw daggers and lunge at Hajarl, scoring his mithril shirt and pressing him onto his back foot.
Just then Ferrus dropped to the deck behind him, rolled into the landing and barreled into four men pressing into the gap between the flames. His shield pressed two of them into the growing throng behind them, even as his right arm pumped up and down twice. Two fountains of blood shot up behind the first wound to one mans skull, and the second into anothers collar, dragging him into the attack line of two more encroaching men on his right.
Hajarl slid into the space Ferrus made, hammering his Kukri into one mans throat, letting go to dart into the growing press of men to yank another mans throat out. His other hand moved just as fast to grasp a strap of his chest plate, and haul him into the rowers bench with his advance, forcing the off balance man off his feet and into the foot path of men moving to press in around the fire.
The fires flared up on boths sides of the friends as their crew scrambled over the sides of the deck, then pitched more oil skins, expanding the width of the fires and dropping into the space behind the massive ork and his lightening fast elven friend.
The group pressed in on the small unit, scoring more hits on Hajarls shirt, and a solid thrust into his shoulder, causing an alarming bleed. Ferrus shield kept every attack off his skin like it was a thing alive. He pressed the attack again, his steel clad right arm pistoning into the fray twice more, dragging one mans head off and dropping another to the deck. He gave the newly dead a kick as he advanced, then stepped back under a rain of counter attacks.
His measured step cut off two of his attackers as the advanced into the two dead men he had neatly piled, forcing one to stumble. The simple mistep was all the opening the massive half ork needed to lash out with his knee, crashing into the stumbling mans as his mass moved forward, his mail shirt was useless against the hammering blow. His heart gave out moments later as his body began to understand it was already dead.
Two of the braver men threw themselves through the fire and clumsily landed behind the massive ork, lurching into him with slow motion attacks, quick shallow jabbing short swords. Small stains grew under the small wounds, Ferrus barely noticed. He just kneeled under one mans follow up swing, leaned back and shoved him into the waiting arms of two of Hajarls crew to finish off.
Hajarl continued darting in and out, protecting Ferrus flank and dropping a man with every attack, cooly taking advantage of every mistake in distancing, foot work or grip on the attackers weapon. They held the area between the fires for a half minute, until the fires burnt themselves out. The crew busied themselves hauling the dead into piles, shoring up their flanks and fending off the odd clumsy attack over the piles. Fully forty men lay on the deck as breast works, and impossibly allowing the grossly outnumbered men a slim chance at survival.
Ferrus slammed his pick into the throng again and again, each hit drawing a flailing man into the ring behind him, sometimes they didnt flail. But flopped and slapped into the wet deck as a heavy sack of foul smelling meat. Hajarl fell back a few steps and began launching his shuriken into the press, and covering more area with his small hail of razor sharp weapons.
His crew were finally able to unsling their short bows, adding to the confusion and panic as the exhausted crew struggled to do more than limply press themselves into one on one fights they couldnt win. The stars and arrows coming out of the gap wounded many, killed precious few, but forced those behind them to move them out of the way to fill the gap.
Archers from other parts of the ship began lining the hasty barricade and those inside with arrows, which claimed two of the crew and wounded two more enough to stop them shooting back. A half dozen arrows were lodged into the plates of Ferrus right arm, and nearly two dozen more in his shield, and three in his helmet. Hajarl took two in his back, but the mithril shirt kept them from penetrating deep enough to do more than hurt.
Ferrus pressed and pushed, until he got to the landing between the two rowing pits. Then leaped to the second mast, using his pick to hook into the wood then haul himself up onto the spar. Shielding him from half the crew that shoot at him from below with the mast sheet itself.
He ran crouched and leaped off the mast a moment later to land on the crew chief of the newly reloaded porcupine, killed another with a casual swing of his shields narrow edge.
The kicked another off the machine, forcing it to shutter and aim down into the rowing pit before he swatted the firing lever with his pick as he roared. He shoved and pressed his way into the throng of men felled by the dozens from the porcupines lethal volley, each of its eighty bolts hitting at least three men. The effect was horrific, but cut a massive swathe of men down as they pressed in on the four men cowering in their breastworks trying their best to cover Hajarls flanks.
Hajarl grabbed one man at the last moment, put his body between him and the volley from the porcupine at the very last moment and turned to press the attack on those unhurt by the bolts. He advanced as far out of the breast work as he dared, even as he struggled to free his extra shuriken out of his back pack. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Ferrus finish off the seige crew, then kicked over one of the brazers on the deck setting a new fire.
The tank like half ork roared as he took more arrows, a half dozen found their way into his back, and five in one leg, three in the other. Be he never stopped, or slackened his attack, every step he took killed another man. Soon he was stalking over piles of dead to launch his attacks into the backs of men trying to get away from the unstoppable ork.
Hajarl and the three survivors set about those few with will left to fight with their bows, and forced even them to seek cover. Most of the counter attacks were cut off, and unwilling to press into sight of the small parties shocking assault.
Over the din of the dying men, the captain could be heard shouting at those holding the the aft deck bulk head door blocking in the desperate cowards trapped in the rowing deck with Ferrus.
The captains voice infuriated him and made him press harder into the retreating men, soon only a handful were left, and they screamed vengence on the cowards locking them in with Ferrus. The crew on the captains side desperately piled everything at hand against the door, and the two men withdrew to press the attack on the men gathering in the foredeck. They could be heard arguing for a time, before they realized what was happening.
Ferrus ran up and down the deck on both sides of the rowers deck kicking up the bazers, feeding the fires and cutting down the rigging as fast as they could. They gathered up their dead and fled back to their yacht as the crew were slowly piling out to shout back at their comrades that they had left.
It bought them enough time to get over the horizon, and away from the galley and its survivors while they stuggled to put out all the fires. The captain was forced to put the ship ashore to deal with all the damage. Hajarl and Ferrus managed to get into a port city and get new crew ahead of the galley. Tales of their assault on the galley spread like a disease and made the pair famous, by the end of the shipping season they were legendary. The two were ignorant of their status for another six months as they had hidden out in a sheltered cove in the jungles of Chult.
There they met an aged artificer that outfited them with a new purpose in life, smuggling exotic materials for trade from Chult to Amn and the components the magic user needed to construct all manner of wonderous items for the burgeoning outfit. They stole a long ship from an smaller pirate operation, and used their new ship to take a frigate aprize less than a year later.
With their small fleet assembled, they began working with other pirate groups to take larger ships and flotillas.