Pike and Scanlan. I could see Pike as a slightly more ethereal bard, but I want to see what a cleric Scanlan would be like.
Fun fact, did you know Pathfinder has a diety that ascended to godhood accidentally and continues to spend his time drinking and carousing and telling tall tales?
Scanlan is ten, maybe eleven, when he sneaks in the backdoor of the tavern that will change his like. It’s name, Freedom’s Fortune, sounds like as likely a place as any to try and talk someone into a meal for the night. He’s getting a little old for the ‘poor child’ routine, and in all honesty, it’s only because humans are shit at telling the ages of gnomes he’s been able to milk this as far as he has. There’s a man sitting at the bar, already deep in his cups with half a plate of food in front of him gesturing wildly to an uninterested audience that has easy mark written all over him.
So Scanlan goes up to him, all wide eyes and ‘gee mister’s and ‘won’t you tell me that one again’s and against his own will, gets sucked into the story. Dressed in simple chainmail, the man at the bar speaks with an authority that belies the number of tankards in front of him. He speaks of the freedom of the open road, of the good that a stalwart adventurer could do in the world, of the joys to be found in a good cup of ale coming in off the road, and he does it all with a glitter in his eye that Scanlan envies.
Scanlan, because he is just a kid and starving, steals a tankard off the bartop when everyone else is looking the other way, distracted by a brawl between the half-orc performer and an unruly farmer.
He tries to pawn the tankard the next day, and finds it returned to his pack by nightfall, his coin purse eight copper lighter.