Finn Doyle is a lightfoot halfing, three feet tall, with short, bright red hair usually messed up all over his head (with a persistent cowlick), pale, freckled skin, and vivid green eyes.
He’s exceedingly cheerful and devout, always connecting things back to some tenet of his faith or of his craft (baking). He usually has his clothes or leather armor covered in flour or frosting, and is perpetually snacking on something. He loves offering anyone cupcakes, or fresh-baked bread, or a slice of delicious cake.
And you have to admit, his baked goods are the best you’ve ever tried… even if they’re a little unsettling, usually covered in eyes, tentacle motifs, or fanged, lampreylike maws.
Because Finn is, despite all his talk of being raised Shirish Catholic, a warlock in service to unnameable, unknowable cosmic horrors that live in the voidlike space between the stars.
It’s not his fault his father arranged poppyseeds in the exact configuration of a certain ill-fated constellation, and began to hear whispers one night! And of course he shared it with his only son and baking protege.
So their confections started to get better, but far weirder, as the powers manifested themselves. And finally, a three-tier wedding cake erupted into mouths and tentacles, devouring (almost) everyone at the party, then collapsed into a swirling portal. Everyone else ran away, but Finn knows an opportunity when he sees it! Once more into the breach!
(Halfling/Warlock/CN/Prime/Sensate)