Doctor Barjandar's page

"The Elven Spear? I'm not as up to date on the latest happenings compared with some of my Pathfinder companions, but I do believe I have heard of you. An honor to meet you in person! I don't think I've ever met someone with a secret identity before. Or maybe I have. How would you know, really?"

The gnome pauses briefly in his rambling, and appears thoughtful for a moment.

"Anyways, I don't have a secret identity. My name's Barjandar, after my grandfather . . . or perhaps he was an uncle. In any case, it's one of those good old family names that pops up again every couple of generations."

"And don't worry about my safety, ma'am! If anyone asks if I have seen you, I will say 'yes', and if anyone has a problem with me healing a fellow Pathfinder who is out doing good in the world, then they can tell it to my face. I may be small, but I won't stand for anyone telling me who I can and cannot heal. That's between me and Sarenrae, so you trouble makers can keep your meddling noses out of my business."

Barjandar is then distracted by Doctor Love's comment.

"You can turn people into chickens?!? Why, that's not something you see every day."

A pink-haired half-elven woman walks into the infirmary, wearing a chain shirt over which is the tabbard of a red-and-orange Phoenix. She caries with her an Elven branched spear with hearts as the spearpoints, and has a spiked gauntlet to boot. She has the countenance of some authority, as if she is sure of her life's goals. Riding on her shoulder is a white mongoose with a heart-shaped pattern of pink on it's back fur.

"Pardon me, but I require a checkup, I believe. I have just recently been fighting ghouls and wish to make sure I have not contracted 'ghoul fever.' A rather unhelpful ranger pathfinder said that it could be a side-effect of ghoul bites, but refused to check me for the disease.

"Sadly, my knowledge of the healing arts is limited to calling on the spirits of Taldor to merely heal physical wounds. Diseases are beyond my ability to heal or analyze."

"Don't worry ma'am. I'm not sure we have the right herbs around here for ghoul fever - what kind of infirmary doesn't have licorice root?!? People think just because they can magic it all better they can ignore the good old fashioned ways to heal a person. They really work just as well, except you've actually got to stop and smell the flowers. I'm not speaking metaphorically, mind you . . ."

The chatty gnome seems dangerously close to going off on a tangent, and then remembers the problem at hand.

"But, you see, I CAN actually magic it all better. Blessings of Sarenrae, and all that. I wasn't sure I was going to like being a holy warrior of the Dawnflower, but she has given me some powerfully useful blessings when it comes to healing people. I just need to lay my hands on you here. I'm not trying to get fresh. That would be incredibly unprofessional as a doctor and probably against some rule in the paladin code. Honestly, I haven't read them very carefully. No time. Between the temple and the Pathfinders, there's always seems to be something more important - go here, do this, make sure these people don't die."

He pauses briefly to reach out towards the elf, taking one of her hands between his. The touch feels pleasantly warm, and leaves a lasting impression of energy and good health (and cures sickness and disease).

"That should do the trick! By the way, I like your hair - it's a pretty common style with gnomes, but it looks good on you too."

Barjandar peers at the tree bark, sniffs it a couple of times and then puts a tiny dab on the tip of his tongue. He makes a face and then nods a couple of times.

"Galtroot? Mixed with a few other things, I imagine. It will make you an angrier wizard. You'll have to decide for yourself if you think that's a good idea. In my humble observation when wizards get all angry, and start trying to mix it up in the fisticuffs, I usually have to patch them back together afterwards. Not that I mind. It's kind of my job, after all. This one time, in the Blackros Museum, there was a wizard who thought he was a monkey . . ."

He begins to tell some rambling tale until he is either interrupted or the food appears.

Barjandar looks up at his name on the chalk board. "Thanks for writing my name up there, Miss Silverstar. Someone wasn't thinking when they put it so high on the wall. It's a mite inconvenient for us with short legs."

His attention is quickly turned in another direction when he hears Doctor Love mention the Realm of the Mammoth Lords. "Oh, that's where I just came back from! If you see a demon mammoth, please come tell me about it after. We didn't get to see one when I was there. We saw mammoths, and we saw demons, but no demon mammoths. He pauses and gives a disappointed sigh.

"Just imagine what one would look like . . . huge . . . and furry . . . and breathing fire, or maybe with some pincer claws in place of its tusks. There's something you don't see every day." He sighs again and adds more slowly, "It's probably against one of the paladin codes to wish for something that endangers the rest of the party just because it would be cool looking . . . Being a paladin is hard sometimes."

A cheerful gnome pokes his head into the infirmary. "If you need a hand healin' people, I'd be chuffed to lend a hand. I know a thing or two about healing. I've been mixing up herbal remedies for years, and lately Sarenrae has been giving me magic powers - take away diseases with a touch of my hand sort of stuff. Imagine that! Me . . . with magic powers."

"It came in pretty handy when we were fighting demons, up in the Worldwound. There was this one that everyone was scared of because it was making everyone sick - my mate, Lota (he's good in a fight, but no magic powers) and my dog, Hope." The gnome pauses to point to a large St. Bernard that has followed him into the infirmary. The dog has a slight otherworldly glow, and there is a small flask attached to its collar. "Apparently, Sarenrae gave me magic powers, and she gave me a magic dog, but the magic dog can still get sick. Very odd."

"Anyway, as I was saying, we were fighting this demon, and it was making everyone sick, but I totally had it under control. I could make them not sick almost as fast as the demon was making them sick! I couldn't fly, though. That was a bit of a problem, but Lota had a potion. I made him not sick, he flew, he killed the demon. Teamwork! That's what the Pathfinders are all about." He pauses for a moment, perhaps marking the end of a story, but before anyone can interrupt he launches into another tale.

"I even kept my dog alive when she got eaten by a dinosaur, but that's a different story . . . Say, is anyone actually hurt in here? Sometimes I get telling stories and I forget I'm supposed to be working."

Turning to the Sarenite Gnome, Olyssia feigns surprise. "Oh wow, someone knows of me. Though I don't see why, when after my confirmation, I slept around on my off time. And you say Dreng appears when you are asleep!? I guess it is a good thing I don't sleep here."

The gnome seems apologetic, "Oh, no, Miss Bloodrose. It was certainly not my intent to make an issue of where and when you sleep. I'm not that sort of paladin at all, you see. It's hard enough keeping track of all the things I'm supposed to be doing, or not doing - I don't exactly share Master Hojoin's passion for due process, and filing forms in triplicate. I'm a simple fellow. I'd much rather be out in the field, keeping my fellow Pathfinders from dying. I'd go quite loopy if I tried to keep tabs on whether everyone else was living up to my vows, which they didn't even swear to uphold in the first place."

"What was I talking about again? Oh yes, you mentioned that you had never been awoken in the middle of the night by Drandle Dreng. And I said to myself - there's a lucky woman. I can think of at least three occasions where he showed up at some late hour to send me off to the Blakros Museum, or an equally dangerous location. I can't complain, though. Keeping my friends from dying is what I'm all about and if they choose to try to die at odd hours of the night then that's no excuse to go back on my word. Anyways, I started thinking maybe you could fool him, if you were good that that sort of trickery, into thinking that you were asleep, and he would show up to send you on a mission, and you could turn in your paperwork."

A small gnome, carrying a shield emblazoned with the symbol of Sarenrae, stops to add to the conversation. "Don't underestimate the power of forgiveness, Master Hojoin!"

"However, if you wish to find Venture Captain Dreng, Miss Bloodrose has reminded me of a useful stratagem. Simply lay down your head, close your eyes and announce that you don't intend on putting your life in danger any more until the morrow. For myself, I have taken certain vows against speaking dishonestly, but the method has proven most effective in drawing the old fellow's attention on several occasions when I was legitimately tired and wished to sleep through the night.'

A jovial looking gnome stops to join in the conversation. He is wearing a belt pouch, which gives off a pleasant aroma of various herbs, and he has a wand absent-mindedly stuck behind one ear like a pen. Accompanying the gnome is a large St. Bernard, which glows with a soft other-worldly aura.

"You're not going to die, good sir! Well, eventually, yes . . . Pharasma gets to us all in the end, of course, but that's not what I'm talking about. What I mean to say is that you came to the right place asking for help. Your brothers in the Grand Lodge, stand up fellows one and all, we'll do our best to keep you alive and out of the stomachs of various beasties who might fancy you for a snack. And, honestly, look at me - there's a lot more things that could eat me than could eat you! What I mean to say is that you don't go out into the field alone, but with a team. You might get paired with with a medic, like myself, or a stout warrior like Master Ghostfire, or one of those wizard types that can light up your enemies with fire. Fascinating stuff, magic! I don't much understand it myself, though occasionally Sarenrae helps get me out of a jam with a little something special. What I mean to say is we've got your back, sir!"

The gnome pauses briefly to catch his breath, but before anyone has a chance to interrupt he adds, "And they'll be wanting you to share your expertise too. I admit I'm not the smartest fellow in the Pathfinder Society, and it sounds like you're good with the books and the figuring things out. If you hang out with lawyers, you're probably also pretty good at talking to people and convincing them to do what you want. That's better than fighting, if you ask me. You didn't, of course, but I still think it's true. Tell people that they're doing something foolish, and give 'em a chance to change before you go bashing them over the head. That's what Sarenrae is all about. Personally, I think the Qadirans get to hung up on the smiting people with fire part!"

Someone eventually interrupts Barjandar because he shows no sign of stopping his rambling . . .

A gnome hops up onto the bench, next to Cathran, and takes a few seconds to examine he arrow wound. He gestures for someone to bring her the beer she requested. Then pulls a couple of leaves from one of his pouches, crumbles them into the drink and places it in front of her.

"That should keep the swelling down, and ward off infection."

He smiles before quipping . . .

"I have heard the bards' song - a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down - but my opinion is that this is the surest way to make a Pathfinder do what's good for her health!"

A small, dark-haired gnome, dwarfed by the imposing Petros, speaks up at the end of the tale.

I say, Master Bear-Slayer, you have fought some fierce fights, and witnessed some wild wonders. It's serving along side Pathfinders such as yourself that keeps an old fellow from getting all white haired and dying of boredom, perish the thought. Sometimes it's a bit touch and go, making sure your limbs stay attached and your important bits remain inside your body, but it's never boring!

He calls to his dog, a giant St. Bernard, who seems to have a bit of an otherworldly glow.

Come, Hope. We must abed so that Master Dreng will know where to find us when something inevitably goes arse over teakettle.

A cheerful gnome passes through the entryway, and stops to take in the scene before him.

He responds first to Twig, "Remember, m'lady, that these are the same good folks that would face down the demons of the Worldwound, to keep 'em from devouring your soul. If they want to unwind by sharing a meal together in the hallway, surely they're not hurting anything. I dare say some of Aram Zey's trainees could use the extra practice learning prestidigitation if there's a bit of a mess left over at the end. Or perhaps Master Farabellus will assign clean up duty to those who have not learned their parries properly. I suffered that fate a few times when I was new here!" He chuckles at the thought.

He then samples some of the barbecue, and turns to Molos. "That's an . . . interesting blend of spices, friend. I'm more used to using these herbs for healing, rather than cooking. I wouldn't have thought to combine them like this!" He stops talking as he turns his attention to eating.

Doctor Barjandar wrote:

Well, Master Venture Captain, whatever tasks you set before us, I reckon it's highly unlikely that my fellow Pathfinders will stop hurting themselves in the line of duty. I'd better go with them, and make sure they don't come to a bad end. I hear there are some beasties with awfully big teeth in the Mwangi Expanse . . .

I know.. aren't they adorable!? You just have to know where to bellyrub them. Sometimes they'll even follow you for a little bit and eat some of the aspis for you. Just remember its not fair to them to take them out of their native environment.

Well, if you can keep 'em from biting your friends in the first place, that's the best medicine!

Well, Master Venture Captain, whatever tasks you set before us, I reckon it's highly unlikely that my fellow Pathfinders will stop hurting themselves in the line of duty. I'd better go with them, and make sure they don't come to a bad end. I hear there are some beasties with awfully big teeth in the Mwangi Expanse . . .

Barjandar smiles as he watches Grol's attempts to help. "You know, Grol, it's getting kind of crowded in here, and I'm sure there are other people who will want to come congratulate Talia on her happy news. What if you and I go out and smite some evildoers? That seems like it plays to your strengths, if you'll pardon the pun."

"Oh, it's not a bad life, being a paladin," quips Barjandar. "I wasn't sure about it in the beginning, but I think Sarenrae was looking out for my health just as I try to keep my companions in top shape. It's not good for us gnomes to stay in one place and fall into a routine."

"Now that I serve The Healing Light, I get to travel to all manner of interesting locations with a various colorful characters. It keeps my on my toes, trying to prevent, and heal, all kinds of injuries from their crazy schemes. Hmm, perhaps creative sounds better? Yes, creative schemes. It's rarely boring, being a paladin!"

Barjandar replies, intending for only Pontificor to hear. "It appears I am in little danger for, while he has mistaken you for a goblin, he believes that I am a dwarf. Apparently it is to my advantage that I have groomed my beard just so, and do not threaten to color spray angry half-orcs."

"I am most confused as to why he wants a loaf of bread, though."

Barjander tries to position himself strategically between anyone who continues trying to attack one another. "Look here, gentlemen! I don't mind patching you fellows up if you got gouged by a ghoul or bit by a bear, but it just makes extra work if you start beating on each other."

"Well, Sarenrae teaches that we must hope for the best out of those we meet," interjects a cheerful gnome. "I must say that I am slightly concerned to see a follower of Apollyon serving as a doctor. At least, I assume that is where your loyalties lie, sir. If not, you have a most unfortunate coincidence to be named so. At any rate, expect the best out of people, for we all have in us the capacity to do good. Hopefully there will be no need for daggers and axes, Master Grol."

"Oh, sorry, I got a little side-tracked there, Miss Smyth. What I meant to say is that I know something of healing and herbs, and if I can be of assistance to a fellow Grand Lodger, or any Pathfinder, then I am at your service, ma'am. And I know something of dealing with goblin bites if you have any trouble from Master Garble, but like I said, expect the best."

A fairly calm looking gnome (if such a thing is possible), with a friendly smile, addresses Twig. "Did I hear you say that you're in the business of combatting undead, ma'am? In that case, it would be a great honor to place my shield between you and the evildoers. That should spare you the hazards of having to swing a sword . . . or getting hit by one."

(OOC: I enjoyed writing this up for one of my Pathfinder characters, so I decided to come back and do another one.)

1. Why are you a Pathfinder?
I was just a humble herbalist and healer, paying my respects to Sarenrae, when she put an idea into my head. It wasn't a fancy vision with angels and fire, mind you, but I'm pretty sure it was Sarenrae's idea. Anyway, I got this idea that if I could protect people from getting hurt in the first place, then that was even better than healing them afterwards. Suppose a wolf is trying to bite off your arm. It'd take a pretty high level cleric to put your arm back on, but even a fellow like me could hit the wolf over the head a couple of times until he stops biting.

The Pathfinders seem to have a bunch of people who keep getting hurt, so I figured they could use my help.

2. Do you have a name and surname that is not ripped straight out of existing Earth mythology or popular culture?
Barjandar is a proper gnomish name. I think I may have had an uncle called that, or perhaps a cousin. People call me "doctor" because I fix their injuries, but I'm not really smart enough to be a real doctor. I just know a couple of tricks with herbs and plants.

3. Which nation did you grow up in? How did this nation influence you?
I grew up in the town of Willow Grove, a little gnomish enclave where the big folks didn't come to bother us much. I might have happily lived out my life in that quiet little town, but when Sarenrae puts an idea in your head, well, you don't say "no" to a goddess.

4. What do you look like? What are your wearing? How does this vary when you’re stalking through forests, sewers, deserts or in glittering cities?
Well, given that I'm a gnome, I'm shorter than most folk. I have jet black hair, which is pretty dull compared to most gnomes, and green eyes.

If I'm out doing Pathfinder work, I'm usually suited up in heavy armor. I try to keep it clean and nice looking, though it's starting to get a bit dented from me standing in harms way, trying to protect my fellow Pathfinders. I have Sarenrae's mark on my shield, so people know what I stand for.

5. What do you love?
Working with herbs and helping people with their sicknesses and injuries. When it's possible I like to take the time to go out into the wild and gather my own herbs, but sometimes I have to make do with what I can purchase off of merchants.

6. What do you hate?
Anyone who goes out of their way to cause harm. I can understand that people make mistakes - sometimes you cause harm just because you weren't thinking, or maybe it was an accident. But if you go out of your way to hurt other people, then you're just making more work for us healers.

7. Which other Pathfinders (PCs) do you rely on for teamwork, survival and butt-kicking? Do you have a bro? a mentor? a father figure? maybe a rival?
I've gone on a couple of adventures with a cleric of Sarenrae named Darken Rok, and frankly I'm a bit concerned about him. He's got a quick temper, and he thinks everything can be solved with violence. What about Sarenrae's focus on redemption and healing? I'm no great scholar of religious doctrine, but it seems like he's got it a bit wrong.

8. How does your race influence your views? Are you a stereotype of a certain race? How are you different from most humans/elves/gnomes/orcs/tengu?
Well, I suppose I could go for the quick laugh and say that I'm all about protecting the little people . . . Actually, it seems to me that most of the other gnomes I've encountered have been a bit more tricksy and underhanded than I am. I try to be level with people, as much as I can, though I did once try to lure a guard away from his post using ghost sound. I figured if there was one less person around when the fighting broke out, that was worth a little bit of trickery.

9. What are you afraid of? Do you have any phobias or worries?
I'm concerned about what Sarenrae has in store from me. I'm just a simple herbalist from Willow Grove, and now she's blessed me with all kinds of strange powers, like healing people just by laying my hands on them. I'm worried she has something big planned for me, and I hope I don't disappoint when it comes along.

10. What is your most treasured possession?
My collection of herbs and medicines. I can heal people, now, by laying on hands, or using my wand of cure light wounds, but sometimes I still like to do things the old fashioned way. I wonder if you could make a wand of cure light wounds that smelled like chamomile tea? Surely that wouldn't be so very difficult . . .

"You were turned into a tree?" Barjandar looks at the newcomer, intrigued by the tale. "I can't say I've ever had to heal any of my companions from being turned into a tree. That would be tricky, hmm, but you seem to have recovered with no ill effects!"

"I do think you're underestimating Grand Lodge, though. As a representative of the whole Pathfinder Society, I get to go on interesting adventures with all manner of people. One day I'm investigating an ancient temple with the Osirians, the next I'm escorting a Qadiran caravan across the desert, and the day after that I'm tracking down some beastie with the Chelaxians. I can't say I much approve of dealing with devils, but at least they track down the ones that get loose. It's never dull in the Grand Lodge."

"Good afternoon ladies, gentlemen!" An exceedingly cheerful gnome enters the bar and looks around. "It warms my heart to see so many of you in good health and good spirits!"

"That's what I'm all about, you see, keeping people in good health. Some people would call me doctor, but I'm nowhere near as smart as most who bear that title. I'm just a humble herbalist, curing people's aches and pains and trying to do right by Sarenrae."

"I might have lived out my days nice a peaceful in Willow Grove if I hadn't got this idea. I figure Sarenrae put the thought into my head, kind of like a special calling. Barjandar, she says, sometimes you need to be more proactive about healing. It's mighty hard to replace a man's arm after he's been mauled by a bear, but if you protect him from getting attacked by bears in the first place wouldn't that accomplish the same thing?"

"She's right of course, her being goddess of healing and all, so here I am. This Pathfinder Society seems to be full of people who suffer injuries and ailments while they're out in the world trying to do the right thing. I aim to help with that, best as I can!"