Fizletop Numbrains (3.5e Deity)
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|Symbol:||A useless, spectacular, shiny trinket.|
|Home Plane:||The Plane of Yesterday.|
|Portfolio:||Inventing, gnomes, felines and rats.|
|Clergy Alignments:||Chaotic Neutral, True Neutral, Chaotic Good, Chaotic Evil|
|Domains:||Animal, Chaos, Artifice, Madness|
|Favored Weapon:||Gnomish Hooked Hammer|
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He is known to appear as a small, unassuming gnomish fellow. He is often garbed in a tunic and loose pants shining like solid gold. His pointed shoes spark with snap-crack-popping lightning, which is part of this complete breakfast. What's the break DC on fast anyway?
Fizletop teaches those who follow him to waste not time in planning, for it will all work out in the end. With enough moxie, time, muffins, and materials, one can accomplish anything, but especially nothing, which is like anything if it were a Profession check. Though, depending on what he chooses to teach depends on if he knows you, or doesn't, or cares if its Tuesday.
Clergy and Temples
Over the years, many have been drawn to the call of Fizletop. Most fail immediately since he ties their shoelaces together with purple worms, while others abandon their pursuit as madness overtakes them. Those few worthy and hardy enough are often those who built fantastical machines powered not by law, but by the chaotic power of a turning fork in flap-jaw pork space. These machines linger long after their creators vanish, and most who stumble upon them assume that they went insane after their construction, rather than their insanity being built purposely into them.
His temples are enormous, congested laboratories filled with heaping mounds of failed inventions and materials, scattered plans ill conceived and forgotten. Typically, many great constructs hide among the piles (between the Rhubarb High-Energy Cake Supercollider and the Chia Golem), waiting for a day when something triggers them into action and life once again. These temples, when abandoned by Fizletop's followers, serve as great hordes of treasure and potential knowledge. Though, no sane man would dare to wander into such a place and lay claim over it, because what with the Rotational Underwear Remover and the Emergency Aperture Compound Dodecahedronic Egg Beater, one is bound to be zorched, florphed, wizzled, and squiddlidoodlefluffed before you even eat the end of color green. That, or insanity.
Among the half conceived inventions and magical what-sits, rats scurry about. These rats, long ago trained on the chaotic magic of Fizletop, are all named Amber. They serve his holiness by constantly moving things around in the myriad of creation, changing the face of the great mess on a daily basis. Followers are often inspired by such random happenstance to find a new part or piece at their fingertips one day, or simply dismayed to find the tool they set down a moment ago has gone missing. Thus you can blame Amber for all those missing pens and car keys. As all missing objects, they travel to the Land of One-Sock, to be arranged in a matter of interpretive dance. Thus, the semi-circle of life continues.