Findlefarb's page

Findlefarb winks to Ruby and approaches the shopkeeper.

"Good day! Would the esteemed Madame Jelaris be available?"

Adding the mask into his juggling routine, Findlefarb quips, "I guess that means it's clean? Let's get this back to the shop."

He holds everything back safely and packs his clubs.

Findlefarb scowls. "Oh, now this will never do," he complains. "Chicken, return!" he calls out, and the chicken winks out of existence.

He tosses out a juggling club towards the mask, where it slides impossibly underneath it to lift in the air to carry it back towards him. "What do you think?" he asks. " Should someone put the mask on? What if I stuck it on my rear? Would it possess my bum?"

Drop concentration on Silent Image, cast Mage Hand on my club (gotta be on a non-magical item), use it to try to fetch the mask and add it toto my juggling.

Josheb isn't in this adventure. Who's next?

Findlefarb follows his chicken into the mist, looking for the mask.

I don't see anything on the slides. Is there a map showing who and what are where?

Findlefarb rubs his chin. "Then we'll need stronger stuff," he claims, rummaging in his pack as he mutters oddly to himself.

"Attack chicken, go!" He pulls his chicken from his pack, and it rushes into the mist.

"Well, so far, so good," Findlefarb chuckles. "Let's see what we need now..."

He casts mage hand and starts tossing juggling clubs to it and back to himself.

Findlefarb pulls out a set of three small juggling clubs.

"I'm not really one for preparation," he begins, tossing the clubs in the air. "Good timing depends on reaction!" He catches one each hand and takes a bow. The third, hanging in the air a bit longer than the other two, lands on the back of his head, bounces off it with a flick of his neck, and is caught on the way down once again.

No preparatory spells, but plenty of crazy on-the-fly ideas.

Findlefarb smiles warmly as Djahan describes the contents.

"The liquor is enough for several feasts, or for steeping all the meat you can imagine!"

Diplomacy Aid Another: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17

Knowledge(Planes): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

Findlefarb chuckles. "Fine, yes, two tasks for the Archive, and if we do the third, it'll just cement the growing lucrative relationship between your fine establishment and the Pathfinders! Wonderful!"

How about we negotiate negotiate him down to two tasks, still do all three, and he agrees that working with the Pathfinders is good and they might ask a favor of him in the future to continue to celebrate the bond?

From the point of view of this adventure, nothing happens, but it's a fun bit of RP.

Listening to everyone, Findlefarb puffs bubbles from his pipe. "That certainly does seem to be a problem, the occupied mask. We'd be happy to assist with its vacating. So, it sounds like we have a deal, then. The promissory note and the spiritual cleansing of the mask, for the Archive."

Looking around to his companions, he adds, "Are we all in agreement of these terms?"

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 17

Findlefarb grins from his cushion, raising his cup of mint tea. "Oh, let's not immediately impugn our esteemed business partner after he showed such generosity! We are Pathfinders, after all, and there's nary a more resourceful group anywhere to be found."

The gnome puts down his cup of tea and snaps his fingers. A pipe appears in his hand. Bubbles rise from the bowl as he puffs away. "Now then, I see your generosity. You could simply take another bid, but you recognize that working with the Pathfinders have greater, long-term potential. You are a most astute businessman. Let's continue this discussion. Explore your needs and your concerns, and let's see if there isn't a better deal to be had between your enterprise, and the most enterprising individuals anywhere in Golarion!"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

He turns to the gnome.

"While we are on this mission, may I entrust you with it, Sir Findlefarb? I believe bards are familiar with this kind of magic. Please use it on any member of this group if they get hurt. The command phrase is 'Klarum Purum'."
He draws his wand of CLW and offers it to the gnome.

"Certainly, Dr. Watson! I'd be more than happy to assist. I've got a healing wand of my own, as well, as necessary."

Tucking low behind the others, she points to the glass cases filled with etched gemstones and glass bottles, and nudges Findlefarb gently on the arm. "Grand High and Most Inimically Holy and Extremely Esteemed Jester of the Buoyantly Joyful Court of Count Razimov, Fenwick Findlefarb Tippletree Woogodoo Nanoquick Balnibarbi Kruknik Whoopsalittleovertotheleftnexttime Nashizzar, the Fourth, wait, no, Mister Grand High and Most Inimically Holy and Extremely Esteemed Jester of the Buoyantly Joy- or is it Sir Grand High and Most Inimically Holy and Extremely Esteem- ugh, never mind! YOU, are those the animal baubles? They look like they could fit in my pockets so easily! And you're sure there are animals inside of them?" Evidently, the start to this social encounter just isn't as enticing as the wondrous possibility of having special little beasts nestled safely in one of her pouches.

The gnome chuckles. "Please, you're a friend, Findlefarb is fine! As for the baubles, these would likely not have animals already, as Murqual sells the tools for us to fill ourselves. We will just need to find our own companions."

An obese man swaddled in silks occupies a sofa before the samovar. Standing to his left is a slim, younger man holding a ledger. The fat man makes a series of complicated hand gestures to the standing man, who, after a moment, bows to the PCs and speaks. My esteemed master, Palhuna Murqual, bids you welcome. Please, be seated. Business should be conducted comfortably.

Findlefarb grins widely. "Thank you, good sir! Comfort is most welcome." He folds his legs beneath him, falling to the floor, only to be caught by a suddenly appearing blue cushion with yellow tassels on the corners.

Just a bit of prestidigitation.

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 9

Checking his belongings one last time, Findlefarb leaps after Ruby. "Wait! Let us come with you! Try not to get caught in a bauble!"

"Goodness, imagine carrying around a number of baubles to store animal specimens! An enterprising fellow could safely transport exotic beasts for study in Absalom, but a nefarious ne'er-do-well could run around with a number of them trapped in balls to be used for gladiatorial combat."

The truth then dawned on the gnome. "This has nothing to do with specimen transport after all, does it? Dear me..."

Findlefarb's piercing blue eyes look into Ruby's. "The hen is part of my act," he explains, "and you're free to pet her, Ruby."

The gnome looks out the nearest window wistfully. "And perhaps the esteemed Murqual will appreciate the performance."

"Dr. Watson, would you happen to have any deductions regarding the Archive?"

Knowledge(Arcana): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
Knowledge(Local): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

Findlefarb brightens as Ruby examines the chicken. "Oh, this one? A hen. I always travel with a chicken. I've never found a situation where I'm better off without a chicken than with one."

He turns to face Ruby, tips his cap, and bows with a flourish. "I am Grand High and Most Inimically Holy and Extremely Esteemed Jester of the Buoyantly Joyful Court of Count Razimov, Fenwick Findlefarb Tippletree Woogodoo Nanoquick Balnibarbi Kruknik Whoopsalittleovertotheleftnexttime Nashizzar, the Fourth."

Keeping his bow low, but tilting his head up to look in Ruby's eyes with a beatific smirk, he finishes, "And who do I have the honor of addressing?"

The hen looks around, confused.

A jolly gnome with bright red hair and beard smiles and chuckles as he learns the situation.

"Oho, so we're to appease Murqual, are we?" he asks, with a twinkle in his eye. He cracks his knuckles. "Surely he'll enjoy a good show. Would the archive be larger in size than... say... a chicken?"

As if on cue, a chicken indeed pokes its head out of the gnome's backpack.

"Ah," he adds, "It certainly should be. In any case, I'm sure we will be of service, to you, to him, to both, somehow I suspect it doesn't matter as long as we all come to an amenable agreement. Brilliant!"

1) Player name: Wrong John Silver
2) Character name: Findlefarb
3) PFS#-Character#: 118418-4
4) Character Class & Level: Prankster Bard 1
5) Faction: Sovereign Court
6) Regular or slow speed for chronicle: Regular
7) Perception and Initiative Bonus:+6/+2
8) Character Ancestry?: Gnome
9) Replay?: No
A) Anything else I should know?: Findlefarb carries a chicken. Not a chicken familiar, not a chicken animal companion, just a chicken.

I am back.

"We're the people you were sent ahead for. Your ordeals are complete. It is our task now."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

Yup. With Versatile Performance, I would have a +7 instead of a +3 right now.

Work has swamped me this week, and next week I'm traveling on business (but will still check in as I can). Please bot me as necessary, and I'll go along with whatever people choose.

I'll take 4th.

Strength: 1d20 ⇒ 20

"See that? Low to the ground. Good leverage."

Findlefarb heads over and offers the end of his broom to help Aroden out.

Findlefarb goes back to whistling a tune while sweeping the floors, wondering if there's anything to learn there.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

That's even better! Pick the glowing club! C'mon, you can see which one it is while I'm juggling!

Findlefarb pulls a juggling club out of his pack, tosses it in the air, and it starts to glow as he catches it.

"Here you are, more light as you need it!"

He grabs a few more clubs and starts tossing them in the air, each lighting as he continues to juggle them. "Light, light, who needs light? I've got extra light for everyone."

Findlefarb stays by the lever. "Just say the word and I'll pull!"

Findlefarb grabs a broom and sweeps ahead of him, keeping an ear open for screams.

Ended up out for the 4th, then work piled on, but I'm out from under it now.

Knowledge(Local): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22
Heal: 1d20 ⇒ 15
Survival: 1d20 ⇒ 20

Looking at the corpse, Findlefarb muses, "Wait, didn't we share a round of drinks a few months back?"

Findlefarb reaches carefully into his pack, and pulls out his chicken. He lets the bird scratch and drink and fill its belly on the grubs it finds.

"Oh my, they're a bit feisty, aren't they?" Findlefarb observes maintaining Inspire Courage.

He pulls out his bow and arrows and fires at a wolf (the green one).

Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 1 - 4 ⇒ (10) + 3 + 1 - 4 = 10
Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

Findlefarb stirs, "Oh, by the light of Aroden, what's waking me at this hour? Oh. The light of Aroden."

Seeing the battle with the wolves, the gnome sleepily calls from his bedroll, "Oh, good! The food's arrived. Do make it quick, I have no intention of tarrying for breakfast. Oh, I'll go tend to the Everflame while you get the bacon prepared."

Stand up and inspire courage.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15

I'll take last watch with Aroden.

Looking up from his bedroll, Findlefarb yawns, "Lone wolves are such sad little creatures..." and goes back to sleep.

"Illusion, most likely. Comes with the territory, nonetheless. Ah, well, all in good fun, keeps us on our toes!"

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

"Wolf? Where wolf?"

"Oh dear, we'll have to break them up," the gnome observes.

He tosses sand in the air from a hidden pouch. "Success, now rest!"

Casting sleep. Will DC 14.

"Vile orcs! Recognizable from their brutish faces, guttural whoops, peculiar pungency, and their tendency to rush to cleave your head off. Most likely because you have expressed disapproval to their brutish faces, guttural whoops, and peculiar pungency."

Findlefarb saunters forward, giving everyone a line to enjoy.

Start inspire courage. +1 attack, +1 damage morale bonuses for everyone. Also move.

My most profuse apologies. A conference ate up all my available time for the past couple days; I did not expect that. I'm back in it.

"Death! Doom! Destruction! And, of course, a heaping tankard of ale and a fresh roasted pig afterward!"

A gnome saunters into the inn, well-equipped with a full pack, and juggling a pair of clubs. "Good evening!"

Findlefarb it is! Woohoo! I can heal, too, so no problem.

Ooh, Konner! I could play Cazithiel the speed cleric instead of Findlefarb here. Konner and Caz have adventured together before.

Player Name: Wrong John Silver
Character Name: Findlefarb
PFS ID: 118418-4
Faction: Sovereign Court
Day Job: Perform(Comedy): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

I think it's more precisely "Classic" PFS (as opposed to Core), but that's what I'm designed for (not Core), confirmed.