Hamaliel

Hamaliel was an Elf hunter for a campaign where elves were considered good bounties; they didn't have a good rep. Due to those issues, the character didn't last long in the campaign, but did manage to avoid being killed. (He wasn't exactly a nice elf, either....)

Hamaliel
Basic Information
Former home(s)	The Frozen Wastes
Gender	Male
Race	Elf
Occupation	Hunter
Known language(s)	Common, Elvish
Rules Information
2nd Edition Statistics Alignment Lawful Evil Class 2nd Level Fighter Strength 13 Dexterity 17 Constitution 13 Intelligence 13 Wisdom 11 Charisma 9 HP 13

Personality

It is important to note that Hamaliel is only on the edge of Lawful Evil. This is mostly the manifestation of the terrible anger within him at having been successfully framed. He cares little about the war between the races, as he deems both cultures equally bad. He wants now to be free to make his own choices and advance in skill.

As of now, his greatest goal in life is to return to the village where he was born, slay all who cast him out, burn it to the ground, and sow the ground with salt so nothing ever grows there again.

Hamaliel was designed to be very flexible in alignment. The greatest good usually comes from what was once the darkest evil. As a result, as he goes up in level, he may begin to climb towards good. On the other hand, he may go further down the black road of darkness. Perhaps he needs some good role models, or at least friends he can respect.

As the campaign showed, that wasn't looking likely.

By the time he left the campaign, he was on his way to reverting to a lawful neutral alignment, though he is still more tending to evil than good. He is almost a samurai in his attitude towards the Golden Gauntlet, and will not abandon them, as they have shown him trust and equal respect. He still has his arrogance, and he still hates his home village with all the passion of the young.

He is liable only to be a guardian of caravans, and perhaps a bodyguard for important-but weaker-members of the Gauntlet.

Abilities

Weapon Proficiencies: Specialist: spear, short blades, two-weapon specialist

Nonweapon Proficiencies: Hunting, direction sense, tracking, languages: elvish

Possessions

Equipment: Spear; short sword; reinforced leather armor; hat; backpack; one week's dry rations

History

The village was a small one, deep within the Frozen Wastes of the South. Overhead was perhaps one of the most terrible storms in centuries. The Elven nomads could only recall one other time where such a storm had ever occurred.

It did not escape their notice that the last time had been at Elterei's birth. They had long believed that it heralded chaos and discontent. It pierced the harmony of their existence. And now, she was giving birth to her child, and it was happening again.

A scream pierced through the storm, and lightning flashed. The scream then mingled with that of the newborn babe. Thunder rocked the village, as if proclaiming his birth.

Elterei would name the newborn lad Hamaliel. He would never know his father, having died in the previous spring.

Fifteen years passed. Young Hamaliel lay near death.

It had been an accident, but the boar had been startled, frightened. The boy wanted to be a Hunter, and he had stumbled near a boar's lair. But he wasn't quite trained in the ways of the hunt. It had charged the young elf, and gored him. It was a miracle that he still breathed.

Elterei was at his side when the stranger came to the village. "What has transpired here?"

One of the elders explained, and the stranger smiled gently. "Perhaps I might be of service. My healing skills are quite...advanced."

There was much protest; they had no wish to let a stranger use his arcane magics on the boy. But in the end, he was permitted to see the lad, alone. Hours passed, and when he left the tent, he was accompanied by Hamaliel, shaky, but alive.

The stranger left later that day. Hamaliel would never know just who had saved him. But he learned to respect another's religion ever since. It was also then when Elterei decided to teach the lad how to hunt.

Fifteen years passed. Hamaliel had become one of the Hunters.

It was an honor, which he had hoped he would achieve. His mother had been a Hunter, and he had trained for a long time to be accepted by them. They supplied the tribe with food, and explored the Frozen Wastes.

Unfortunately, there was one who hated him. Hated his family. And with one accusation, destroyed Hamaliel's life.

"He hid, while we fought the great bear," Gergathil swore. "We two survived, but the others died. If I had not pretended to be dead, I would be dead too. If he had been there, we might have had a chance!"

Hamaliel protested, but his words fell on deaf ears. Many believed that he was touched by ill omen, and evil gods, and so cast him out forever from the tribe. They commanded, "You shall never hunt again." If ever he returned, he would die.

And snarling, he left, never to return. Until he could have revenge upon them.

Three months passed. Hamaliel had entered the land of T'val. He had made some friends with the halflings in the southern area of the land, but he could see that they feared his anger. They could see that it was destroying him.

He had left, not wishing to cause the little people pain, and soon arrived at Kadel. Hamaliel had heard of the war between his kind, and the humans. He cared little for either-for he was now sworn to lead his own life, and not to let politics or culture determine his fate.

Hamaliel thus hid his heritage among the humans, hoping that none would discover him. For if they did, it was worth two hundred gold to them, and his life to lose. They will never get me, he swore. He would fight to the death to prevent it.

About a month later, on the journey back to Ilimeir, Hamaliel stood watch. He'd nearly died, at Kadel. Grahl, the barkeep of an inn, turned him in. An rescue by underground elves freed him, and as a price, they asked him to establish friendly relations to a tribe of goblins nearby.

It had worked, far better than expected. The goblins were now extremely against the humans, and Hamaliel suspected that if the chief, Jarl, succeeded in uniting all of goblinkind, they could be a tremendous asset in the war.

His traveling companions were interesting, to say the least. Cairn was a half-elf, though he tried to hide the fact. He was also a thief, though he claimed he was a ranger. He was a snob, and a good example of why Hamaliel believed that cross-breeding should be outlawed.

The druid, Jhudshui, presented an interesting personality. A human who had virtually sold out his race. Hamaliel knew he would bear watching.

The elf yawned. It was time to awaken Cairn for his watch. Soon, they would be back to report to the elves of their success. The goblins would be their allies.

Two months later. Hamaliel wandered, wounded and alone in the wilderness. The party had shattered, splintered beyond repair. His honor was strained, and even broken. And the elves had been exterminated-at least as far south as the Icewall. He doubted that the warriors from T'val would try to penetrate Icewall.

Then again, he'd been wrong before.

He stumbled into a camp. He raised his clumsy club at ready, in a defensive posture. One of the men-a human-looked up in surprise.

"Ar'then! Get this lad a priest. Boy, who are you?"

"Hamaliel...of Wastes...."

The man smiled. After the priest healed the elf, they talked. He was a member of the trading company called the Golden Gauntlet. He offered Hamaliel shelter, and new equipment, and a job. In return for lifelong fealty and one part in four of his monetary resources at least four times a year.

Hamaliel accepted. It was time to put aside his hate...for a little while.

Rumors and Legends

A story related by the elves of the Frozen Wastes indicates that Hamaliel may have fought the Great Bear that he had been accused of fleeing from-and the two had slain each other. This may or may not have been related to stories of an evil demigod that had made its home beyond the southernmost frosts.