Master Assassin and Former Bosun of The Thunderblow


Pronounced Foe-bear.


A small Halfling baby was abandoned on the steps of Holy Astra’s Orphanarium. He was originally named Mouse by the nun who ran the facility, and grew quickly into a good-natured but shy lad. However he was always picked on by the larger kids since he was a Halfling and much smaller than them. He quickly learned how to hide from the gangs of rowdy kids looking to beat him for his food, his few possessions, or just because they could. He also quickly learned that the authorities were useless, as his complaints to the Astrarian nuns that ran the orphanarium fell on deaf ears. He became sullen and withdrawn after enduring many years of beatings. However he was taught to read and write by the strict nuns and showed aptitude for mechanical devices as well.

As he grew older his innate talent for hiding and sneaking became honed and well-practiced. He learned that it wasn’t a big deal if his food was taken by the larger boys at dinner, since he could sneak into the kitchen after midnight and, after picking the locks on the food locker, could feast to his heart’s content. Any small treasure he lost after a beating could be retrieved as soon as the thief’s attention was elsewhere. The other kids and the nuns took to calling him Rat, usually preceded by “Sneaking” or “Thieving”.

Mouse developed a love of reading, since it was the only escape from his dismal life. The nuns had a few books for him to read, and his favorite was a grand tale of Halfling adventures in the far away land of “Center-Earth”. Halflings were heroes in this tale, and he tried to emulate these brave and resourceful Halflings from the book, even to the point of cutting off some of his hair and gluing it to his feet. The other kids mocked him, and the nuns just shook their heads, but he didn’t care.

One day, one of his bullies spotted him reading “The Halfling” again and the illiterate ass grew angry that the Worthless Rat could read and he couldn’t. He snatched the book out of Mouse’s hands, and then, as some of his bully-boys held Mouse down, he ripped the pages out one by one and burned them to ash. Mouse went crazy as his prized book was destroyed, but was helpless to act. After every page had been burned, they laughed and sneered. As they let Mouse up, he launched himself at his tormenters in a rage, but was then beaten almost to death by the vicious gang.

Mouse spent three days in coma, floating between life and death. He awoke in a rage, feeling the same crazed anger that he felt when he was knocked into unconsciousness. Some switch had become stuck in his head during his merciless beating. And so he would always feel that murderous rage. Every minute of every day. Forever.

Mouse pulled two metal slats out of the bed frame. They we dull and rounded, but they would serve. He waited until just past midnight and then he made his move. The nuns who had turned a deaf ear to his pain lost their ears. The orphans who had taunted him died quickly. And as for the bully boys who had beaten him into the coma, they died much much more slowly.

Mouse wandered away from the orphanarium in a rage-filled blood-mad haze, pockets full of ears. He killed a man for his cloak and then fled into the wilderness. He was hunted for weeks by the local Lord and his men, but his hiding talents allowed him to avoid them. However, he couldn’t avoid his hunger and thirst, and he grew exhausted and weak from lack of food and passed out. He was found by a band of wandering circus performers and nursed back to health. The called him “Foubert” from the name that was stitched on his cloak.

He still felt the rage, but had no reason to use it on these kindly freaks. They were outcasts like him, and the dog-faced boy and the woman with six noses had no motivation to mock him just for being small. He traveled with them for a full year, at first working small tasks like starting fires and cleaning dishes. As his natural talents recovered he performed high-wire and gymnastics. Finally they found his most lucrative talent was picking the pockets of bystanders as they marveled at the performances.

He traveled all over the countryside, picking many pockets. This was a good time for Foubert, the best in his life. But he still woke up feeling angry every day and then stayed angry all day long, especially at anyone taller than him (everyone). He stole knives from the knife thrower and then knifed a clown for being a clown. Eventually he was “asked” to leave the circus by being left tied to a tree by the side of the road.

He wandered into a nearby town and, after a brief thieving career, he was cornered in an alley by ten city guards. While he killed four, the others started beating him, just like the bullies used to at the orphanarium. He thought he was finished, and was angry about it, until an impressive lady warrior cut through his assailants with dispatch. This, he thought, was one tough chick. And kinda hot, for a human. She introduced herself as Sandrine, quartermaster of the Loose Cannon, a fine “opportunity finding” (**cough**pirate**cough**) ship in port. Foubert had never thought about traveling the sea but the more he thought about it the more the sea-thieving life appealed to him. Thieving with extra bonus killing. He asked to join Sandrine’s crew and she, feeling pity for the poor bruised little Halfling, accepted. And the rest is history.


Pirates of Brinedeep mmaxel12