Finnidor
K. S.
Giordant
Draoife Scout's Honor
Finnidor Giordant
| Background | |
|---|---|
| Race: | Breton* |
| Gender: | Male |
| Age: | 23 |
| Birth: | 19th of Hearthsfire |
| Hair: | Burnt Orange |
| Eye: | Pale Blue |
| Other Features: | Heavily Freckled Face and Body |
| Occupation: | Medicus Court-Scribe Clothier |
| Affliction: | Sanies Lupinus |
*: He is of a quarter Colovian ancestry from his mother's side.
Hailing from the Systres Archipelago, Finnidor Giordant is the youngest of seven in the Noble House of Giordant. Largely neglected and shunned by his family, on account of being a runt in almost every sense of the word, Finnidor was taken under the wings of his grandmother, who personally saw to his growth and learning.
Indeed the young man attributes much of his mental success and knowledge to the woman, and he strives to live up to her name and image.Briefly becoming homeless after coming of age, Finn would have ultimately perished if not for the domestic skills his Grandmother imparted upon him, and the survival training he received in Draoife Scouts. Picking jobs off billboards and performing menial tasks, the Breton was able to soon lift himself up by finding simple, but solid work under other people. From a lowly janitor among buccaneers to a chief custodian for an Imperial fortress, and now a Court Scribe and Medicus, Finn has firmly planted his feet on the ground, wherever he stands.
General Hooks
Snackmonger: Finn always has time to talk about his lord-of-oven and savory savior, the pie bar, or any of its twelve apostle pastries, including the sweetroll and creme treat. Cooking lessons available. Free samples are available 24/7.
Fashion Savvy: Bold colors? Daring silhouettes? Wearing what you live and love? This Breton is an avant-garde of the garb. Even self-popularizing the so-called tumescent beret that has taken the world by surprise. Don't laugh, it just hasn't caught on yet!
Systres Born & Raised: Coming from the Systres Archipelago, anyone who hails from the islands is alright in his books. Better than the sandpipers, anyways. Fellow Systreans and Druid-Kin get a head start on their reputation bars with the Finnidor Faction.
Probable Bosmer Detected: Is that a Bosmer? Looks like one...dresses like one. Uses magics like one. No, I don't think so. Ah- but best ask to make sure. The worst he can say is no, right? ...RIGHT!?
Rumors
Somethin' Ain't Quite Right: "The Court Scribe...small one, he is. Too small, as a matter of fact. Can't help but feel something must be real wrong with him if he can bear to eat so much and not give way to a gut of horker blubber. Mark my words... he must be beholden to some manner of pestilence or parasite. Gods forbid he has the Red Fever!"
The House of Pearls: "House Giordant? Yes, Noble House, family of artisans...from the Systres. I hear they like pearls, seashells and coral. You know, stuff from beaches and the ocean? Don't care too much to buy from a family aligned with the Covenant, but I must admit, that dress from their catalogue was rather beautifully cut. Would explain why Giordant is usually so well-dressed, I surmise."
The House in the Mountains: "Another package for Mister Giordant from House Margaeio. This is the ninth one this week. Hard to believe that name still exists. I recall reading that, ages back, a large part of that family sold their lands and possessions across Cyrodiil to fund an expedition into the Dragon's Teeth Mountain. I wonder what became of them?"
PRAISE Y'FFRE: "I caught that mousy Medicus trying to plant an oak tree on my front lawn! Dressed in trashy leaves, painted in what I hope not to be blood, no less! I don't care if some blasted acorn sprites want a home on my lawn, that is MY lawn! Now I have to call a priest to remove those damn things. I also overheard him trying to convince my baker neighbor into baking leaf-printed cakes for some God called If-Free? That is not a name of a Divine. I simply will not have this in my good, Eight-worshipping community, no I will not!"
| A - E | |
|---|---|
| Aurelia Ectorius | "I remember the first time my Gran took me to our family's forges. Smoke was amok in the air as it slowly funneled out the upper rafters. The loud clang of hammers turning ingots of metal into armor, weapons, platters, tools and anything else. I remember I was scared, and clung to Gran's arm and dress. But as she showed me, step-by-step, the process of turning rough ore into beautiful masterpiece, I found myself no longer afraid. Miss Ectorius, a soldier who fears no battle. A smith who fears no forge's fire. I call her a tough cookie, yes. For what tougher cookie is there than the Firesong Flint Chip variety? None, I tell myself. She helped me make my first set of armor and equipment, showing me that fear can be conquered and worn with pride." |
| Cadmor Bull-Horn | "I feel regret and remorse for not being able to help him any more than I could. If ever there were a Reachfolk clan deserving of my pity, it would be the Bull-Horns. I know deep down, Master Cadmor wished to transcend himself from the ways of war and constant bloodlust that he was always used for, and solely defined by. To many he was a tool, a simple means to obtain victory. Few saw him as a person, a being of flesh, with blood in his veins and eyes the same color as others. I do not wish to be a monster like they made him be. I won't let anyone use me like that. In his honor I will craft a redberry stained Widow's Bake, a dish reserved to be made for the memory of someone who was truly loved. I did not love him romantically. I loved him as any mortal should love another by the teachings of Mara, not out of lust, but out of kindness of the heart, compassion of the soul and respect for the body. I choose to love him for he who said he was as himself, not what others would paint him to be. I am curious to wonder if anyone aside from myself ever loved him the same way? In a humane way?" |
| Caius Lavinius | "I always expect Master Lavinius to be a brutish and abrasive person, yet despite this exterior he has, he can prove to be a rather down-to-Nirn person. He embodies much of what Spatharia holds to a standard. He is iron, and I must admit, he is quite something to look at, yes. If I had to cook something for him, I would definitely present him with a plate of Wolf Medallions. I don't cook a lot of meat dishes, even when poultry and beef are so accessible. In fact, I try not to eat much meat aside from fish, rabbits, squirrels and well, even insects. To master the wilds and savagery of nature. That is what I feel Master Lavinius represents. Mastery. Plain and simple, uncompromising." |
| Constantine Crowl | "He reminds me of one of the examiners in Draoife Scouts. He would always single me out, saying my plots were over-watered. Mister Crowl instills in me a feeling to be better; a fire. A mother-fuckering fire at that. He may be frozen, but I still practice my Crowl exercises every day in front of him. Sometimes I entertain the idea and daydream about being a soldier. I rank him a very prestigeous Lemoralimangerfruit Torte. It is a mouthful to say, and I imagine that is what chewing chaw sounds like. Might break down your teeth like Mister breaks down grown men, but there is no denying its health benefits. Scurvy is not a joke, and neither is Mister Crowl. I sometimes doubt I did the right thing kicking that guy at camp in his oysters, but then I hear Mister Crowl's voice in my head, telling me I did a good job, and I know I did a good, mother-fucker-ing, chaw-awesome job. I hate chaw." |
| Diana Galenus | "Miss Galenus is now one of Crowl's victims. I don't know whether to be afraid of this fact, or celebrate the honor. What I do know is that she comes from Skingrad-way, and shows promise in the fields of wilderness activity. She is no shod in this niche, as she and I share great sentiments and insight as it pertains to the natural world around us. Coral Brittle is what I associate her with. Dense, solid stuff, and like thick skin, but made of sugar. She will need thick skin to survive Mister Crowl, but in doing so, preserve the delicate sweetness she carries within. Coral brittle lasts quite long, and makes for a perfect travel snack for people out on adventures." |
| Eris Blackthorn | "That witch tickles my twigs in a bad way. She's the traditional kind of Reach-Witch, no doubt paying words and whims to some Daedric Prince. If it's Hircine, I'm going to sabotage her efforts. But she does strike me as an interesting person. Someone, who unlike the majority of the Bull-Horns, is not beyond compassion and emotions from the heart. See, she advocates for the just and humane treatment of the Reachfolk prisoners that the Legion enslaved. I should not be so quick to judge her, for if anyone could reasonably come to judge me for hiding darker urges or deviations from the Divines, it would likely be her. I should stop writing in my journal right now before I let slip something spicy. Speaking of spicy, I should interrogate her on whether she likes Spicy Spider Sticks. And by interrogate, I mean invite her out to a nice lunch while I keep a knife hidden in my boot, just in case I see her try to sacrifice a nice spriggan." |
| Eva Bishop | "You'd think us Healer-type folks would be easier to find, especially with all the wars and bad stuff happening, but no. We're like fish in a drying pool of water. Few are we, and when found we are either on our wits end or closing up shop. Miss Eva is helping the Dominus out, but in truth she is helping me out more than she realizes. I finally have a decrease in my workload! I can afford to take breaks now! I should think of making her a thank-you present. Oh, but what to get her? Does she like Chubcakes? I like chubcakes. Little pastries baked in small metal rounds. They've nothing to do with actual chub loons, but I've always dreamed of decorating the top of one to look like those puffy little birblies." |
| F - J | |
|---|---|
| Hilda Syraldis | "She came to the war camp in Yagahai as someone I didn't know and left as someone I now owe a life debt to. She saved me from a nasty snake, and I've done well never to forget that. I can count her fast among my friends here in Spatharia. A huntress is she, and a double-draigh-damned good one at that. A companion she is, that in an emergency, she will come to your aid like a trusty Chocolate Pocket. Like the pocket pastry, she is always on the go, hitting the road, going where she may well never know. The beauty of this particular snack comes from it's use as a historical field ration or survival food. You can count on knowing that when you are lost and hungry, you always have a friend with you." |
| Iram Andolinus | "Mister Andolinus called me a friend today! Can you duck-bucket-fucking believe it? A FRIEND! I don't have many of those, I have to say, and I must aim to cherish and keep the ones I have made in my life thus far. He is a fellow magi, like me! I mean, I am not an actual mage, not like a battlemage or anything. But the Prior's arcane savvy definitely eclipses my own in complexity, I will say. He's like an older brother, the way they ought to be. I don't like my older brothers very much. Their pranks always hurt. I don't even like my sisters except Plumeria. See-see, Mister Andolinus is just like Meri, but a man. I easily see him finding humor in the likes of a good, brilliantly spiked Waspberry Fool." |
| K - O | |
|---|---|
| Kalon Thorn | "I write words in ink that mustn't be said by tongue. I do not have fondness for the Magister. He is secretive, shady and all manners of off-putting, just like Zandreu whenever he thought about pushing me down the stairs. Zan always did it, but with the Magister comes the fear of if he will do it, or when and even how. I will not contest his authority, but neither will I cave in to his pressuring. If this is a test of resolve, I will be like iron. Oh, what am I saying, I'm a gold coin away from soiling myself whenever he summons me to his office. In short, the Magister is just a damned Liquorice Fish Delight in disguise. I don't know what mad apothecary or murderous confectioner made this dessert, but it certainly is not something I care to enjoy. I do not trust the man, but I trust the Dominus. The Magistrate is a purported medicine for things, but proves to be a hard pill to swallow." |
| Laraen Maximus | "If I had a coin for every time I had to care for someone's drunk aft in a tavern, I'd have one coin. Now, if I had to bill someone by the minute for taking care of their drunk aft in a tavern, Miss Maximus would make me RICH. I don't drink alcohol, so I am the PERFECT person to take care of the mead-addled brains of people. To be clear, mead-brains are the perfect score for pickpockets. They are also the most dangerous, because they can just kill you for touching their pockets, let alone their oysters. I confess I did not like Laraen at first, but seeing her reveal so much when she was smashed by drink, I can see she struggles to straddle two worlds. I must help her navigate these waters, as I had once had to when I first came ashore the mainland. Should she ever require a brainstorming session, my office is open to her and her words, with a nice plate of Bubblebeer Aspic in wait." |
| Lucius Parthax | "Yet another trying-hard and dying-hard warmonger. I should start to make a list of people who I can only categorize as Iron Fanatics. These are the dangerous people. For no matter how much anyone, even the Dominus, can preach of cosmopolitan values and integration, there will be people like Parthax who would sooner pull apart the threads of a tapestry so that no color exists besides the red of a diamond. Oh, and the red color is from blood. Blood of enemies and everyone not of the Empire. Non-Imperial blood. Nope, I do not like this man. I also don't like Puffed Tomatoes for this exact reason. They are so inflated, full of air. They present themselves as rigid crisps, yet snap so easily. Their flavor is also NOT strong with tomato. Its all a sham, really. These snacks try so hard to be something great that they lose themselves along the way. Let it be known I pity Mister Parthax, but I hate this snack." |
| Matthias Carvain | "I have not spoken with Sir Carvain at much length ever since I helped around the war camp in Yagahai. I do not see much of him either, except on campaigns or maybe a day or two in court. I've a sense for bad magics, and I see some things here and there, but he has always displayed a good head, even going so far as to submit a petition of adoption for that poor baby from that Bovem day. I must begin to consider that maybe bad magic in the hands of good might not be so bad? Take the iconic dessert known as Red Mountain Avalanche for example. The ingredients needed are quite dangerous and volatile. In the hands of an unlearned apprentice, there runs the near-inevitable risk of burning the restaurant down. But in the hands of the vested patissier, even the most fickle of critics and naysayers throw praise and applause aplenty." |
| Marcellus Luseph | "If the Dominus could find comfort and good counsel in the presence of someone as bookish and awkward like Mister Marcellus, then I am reassured that I am in a good place. He has taught me much, the Senior Medicus, and I find him affable and easily approachable. I'll have to approach him with the idea on forming a book circle. Mister Marcellus is easily of the Sunflower Bread tier, as to his pleasant demeanor. His kindness is fresh out of the oven, and his appearance and person needs no signs of extra toppings and luxuries save a wash of book-talk or a touch of honeyed potion-making. Plain and simple is he, and his willingness to heal and help. He inspired me to become a Medicus in Yagahai, and he continues to inspire me today. For all this, I thank you." |
| Mariana Nautius | "Of grace indubitable and diamond's crown inalienable. Of everyone in Spatharia, I gravitate to her company and service the most. Like myself, she counsels the Dominus in his struggles and stays his hand with her own. Where I owe the Dominus my loyalty, she rightfully earns my adoration. I'd have never believed she was not a noble were it not for the whispers that day in court, but this fact now seems so trivial and irrelevant in light of how long I've known her for now. She is unparalleled in this world, and should she ever request it, I would not hesitate to style and measure her for a new wardrobe. She is aptly akin to the Pie Bar, my favorite kind of pastry. Like a Dibellan she knows just how to pull a slight to tease and tickle your senses, just as a pie bar is an entire pie made enjoyable in small increments. Reminiscent of ingots of gold are they, just as the Domina carries great weight and power in her own right." |
| Marius Vatallion | "I admit, I am quick to judge people at times. Master Vatallion is one deserving of a second glance. Third even, perhaps. As violent and warmongering as he is, the very essence of Iron, he does have moments where even I am shocked by his more analytical mind and dare-I-say empathy. Not two-faced so as to be decieving and ingratiating where and when needed, but a welcome duality that begs you to remember that nothing and no one are ever just as they seem. Just like the Soured Cream Treat, fried and covered in a glaze of soured milk and fermented cream. But once bitten into reveals a wonderful filling of sweet berries and dare-I-say, whipped chocolate." |
| Nahd Virisaxhi | "Stupid is as stupid does, Nahd is as dumb as he ever was. Now, I don't think he is particularly lame in his head, but he certainly does not use it as much as I would like. He is, was a Dragonguard, and his knowledge of these creatures is a great boon for the Sire. Not to mention his swordsmanship. Overall he is alright, a friend as any other. I like to entertain the thought that he and Sir Revikus are related, and perhaps they are, but neither will ever admit it! For this daft, but loveable snake-face, I award him the honor of the distinguished Dragon's Egg Tart. It is a simple recipe, but the beauty comes in achieving the perfect flakiness to give the tart a look of dragon scales. The custard should also be browning, but golden, much like this man's heart. Spices are optional, but a little cinnamon and nutmeg never hurt nobody, not unless you run your mouth like Mister Virisaxhi has on multiple occasions. I'd very much like to prank him with exploding tarts one day. Maybe tomorrow?" |
| Oriana Pax | "Miss Pax is someone whom I consider much like myself. Arriving in Spatharia quite by mere chance and happenstance, as nervous and unsure as I had been at the War Camps. Just as Gran and Meri always looked out for me, so shall I look out for Miss Pax's well being. Kienigernakoeinig is my chosen symbol of her, in very, very old Bretic it means "King & Queen", and was a simple cake of butter, eggs, flour and cream. Impressed upon its surface was a raised symbol of the ruling royal family or noble house, and the cake would be given to children adopted into the aforementioned groups, or even for vassal houses gained from marriages. This cake was an assurance of protection and support, things I wish to offer endless for Miss Pax." |
| P - T | |
|---|---|
| Pashen Thorn | "Madam Pashen, I find, to be very similar in composition to my mother. Granted I don't like my mother too much, but I could ascertain that the madam is very direct in conduct and Pashen-ate in her zest for life. I must remember never to make such jokes around the Magister. Or would she find it amusing, I wonder? I wonder if she would also let me braid her hair? Does she every braid her hair? It reminds me of rose and saffron for sale in markets. I dare not approach the Magister at all, but Madam Pashen's demeanor invites me. She becomes your harbor to receive your vessel when docked for business. The very essence of Morning Tea Cake is to welcome you to the day's toil. For like tea and cake, she and the Magister are a pair. Their strength in flavors accentuate one another. Tea and cake...one beacons you please sit and relax, and the next wets your lips and bid it parts for information. A deadly combination, but a truly superb experience I recommend to all." |
| Prior Decortius | "The Master-Patron is a man of wise words. I enjoy the conversations we have, and I am much more relieved that there are now others here who share my empathy and espousal of mercy. I hope I should age much like him, and keep my optimism for life and liberties pertaining to it. Much like Mister Marcellus, I believe the Prior to be a man as simple and un-wanting for more material. I've never baked more than I have eaten, and this is to say I have eaten more than my fair share of this, but I wish to present The Prior with a loaf of Prayer Bread for his next service. Eight loaves, each for the Eight Divines seems appropriate. May the Master-Patron never come to know my sins of indulging in this bread given to the Gods. Should he discover, I hope he understands that I was just really, really, REALLY hungry. I'm always hungry. I sometimes wish I were much less so. But if I was, I'd be dead. Oh well." |
| Revikus-Adi | "The First Blade I hold in high regards, for he is held to an even higher standard by the Dominus. I sense in him a great mind and a fervent understanding of right and wrong. I thought him a fool for handing me the baton of command when we were in Senchal, but sometimes the best course of action is the most unlikely course of action. That story ended with the death of a dragon, a friend saved, and my beret off to him. He is flexible, but firm at his core, like a Netchy-Ball Treat. Sticky saltrice encompassing a solid filling of anything from sweet bean, sugar syrup, egg custard to even nothing at all. Sometimes the best things in life, the best people you meet, they are nothing more than everything they are." |
| Rhiannon Auclair | "When I first saw her standing in my corner of the throne room's court, let me tell you, I was ready to slap her breast-bags so hard that she would get walloped by her own scallops. But she has since grown on me, and I feel comfortable being within five feet of her, even carrying little Azam with me in her presence. She seems to have, in-turn, become nicer to me as well, maybe because in caring for a child, I don't seem like your average, stuck-up Breton nobleman, WHICH I AM NOT. Should she agree to any of my invitations for teatime, I shall properly welcome her with a ripe, rank, finely aged tin of Duke's Brand Sherry Chocolates. I am certain a lady of her caliber can stand to enjoy the exquisite taste that comes from a marriage of wine and confection." |
| Tynain Charien | "Chariens. I don't know what I think about them as a family. There is the father, who has my respects, if only begrudgingly. Then there is that one son they have, older, I don't very know him. Oh, but their youngest son I both pity and wish to punch in the face at times. How the man's hair is not white with stress and age is beyond my knowledge. He strikes me as much more easy to talk to than the Magister. Someone more forgiving of emotion and understanding of circumstance. For that I'll give him a grade of the tried and true Pickled Blackberry Parfait. An acquired taste to be exact, but there is no denying his strength in conviction and sense of justice. With age comes great flavor and depth for more things than just wine." |
| U - Z | |
|---|---|
| Valethyne Feldren | "An absolute delight is she, the Madam of the archives, Lady of the Library. Steward of Tomes uncountable, Need I go on? I converse with her many times a week, as we share the same general workplace. Color me a violent green shade when I discovered the Dominus had a Dunmer in his employ. She is much like the Domina in temperament, and as she should, as she and the Domina are quite attached at the hip! She is definitely a good candidate to start a book circle with. Her sharp eyes pick through things in the dark as arrows pick off their mark. I award the merit for the order of the Glazed Clover Petits, delicious treats that delight the tastebuds and the eyes. Ideally of the four-leaf variety, these wonderful morsels are safe for consumption by both people and animals, and would be perfect for the madam's pet panther." |
| Volund Decentius | "A hard man, rugged and imposing. The very figure one might think to be a herald from Arkay to claim the dead, or a messenger of Stendarr to deliver his wrath. No matter what, death pervades his realm, blood paints his realm and war defines his legacy. However, there is no denying that through his careful machination and perfecting of death-giving and deliverance, he has united a great deal of people to his service. Whereby at a funeral, one grieves, but together everyone shares the pain and loss of the departed. This mutual release of anger, frustration, and sorrow provides the basis of kinship to be formed amongst the people. It is with these emotions that the Dominus has used to lay bricks and manifest unity. Barnacle Bark is something we make in the Systres, a deep-dish casserole stuffed with all manner of ingredients from the ocean, yet aptly named so due to its unappealing look on its face. Indeed, so dark and stained with squid ink, seaweed and scorched bits that, in order to understand the purpose of this dish, one must break through the surface. To master death and pain, to wear it's face to show that behind the dark lies warmth, decadence, flavor and the aroma of cheeses both golden and ivory. Beyond every storm of death and despair lies blue skies, fluffy clouds and welcome sun. We must first weather the war and brave past the bloodshed." |
| Xander Marcellus | "Our resident siegemaster, or someone knowledgable in that field. He taught a rather abrupt class on proper ballista etiquette and safety. I wonder if he has ever launched anything other than the appropriate ammunition from a ballista or a catapult? Would he be welcome to try launching a Porcupine Pasty from a trebuchet? Delicious to eat, but not quite so to touch, on account of using prickly yam spines to hold the necessary cubes of trimmings while it cooks. After that you simply use the spines like toothpicks, but of course one must be careful, as the spines become hard and hot from the fire of an oven. I must approach him with such a novel idea now that I have conjured up the imagery in my mind." |
Appearance
Finnidor is not a very assuming person, standing borderline the shortest a Breton could come, and often being mistaken for a Bosmer, furthered by his pointed ears. (Much to his chagrin). His gaunt, wiry frame is betrayed as being healthy only by his spry movement, light-toned complexion and his bottomless stomach. His darkened orange hair is often held at middling or long lengths. Freckles dot his entire body and concentrate on his face, around his nose and beneath his eyes.His wardrobe encompasses a rather wide variety of outfits, each hand-made by himself. Outfits such as dressy slips, corseted robes, cropped tunics, slitted pants and other choice of clothing that are not traditional of Breton, Imperial or even of humans and menswear are often proudly and regularly worn throughout the day.Due to his Druidic upbringing of making do with Y'ffre's gifts, he sometimes dresses almost frugal as a beggar in rags, or pieces an outfit from scratch using methods not unlike the races who hold more reverence to the natural world.
Personality
At his heart, Finnidor is kindhearted and an advocate for mercy. This stands in contrast to the prevalent idealogy of those around him. True to his birthsign, the Breton is kindhearted, soft-spoken, and vastly considerate in his ways. Possessing a remarkably level-head and immense aptitude of calm, he prefers to use his words before he resorts to weapons, and indeed emphasizes the power to be found in words, writing and dialogue. This guiding principle is why Finnidor is a staunch pacifist, contending to preserve lives during instances of conflict. Where those around him may look down upon him for his pacifistic and effeminate manner, he holds steadfast to his own belief. His own idea of what it means to be iron, within and without.During more light-hearted occasions, Finnidor can be seen as playful, mischievous and (though not spoiled) very childish and rather immature. When he cannot pass the time by occupying his hands with physical or mental craft, he may very well be practicing his magic or using them to pester and prank unsuspecting people. Considering his young age, there are certain antics and habits he may yet grow out of. He particularly does not like to be called "Finni/Finny", for reasons known only to himself.Finn possesses an nigh insatiable hunger for food, and is always on the lookout for it. One never sees the Breton far from food or without food for that matter. Whether it is something he whips up himself or forages for, Finnidor always has something to eat on his person. He is not above taking bribes and payments made of edible things. As far as he is concerned, food is its own kind of currency.
Skills
Combat & Magic Capabilities:
While Finn is able to deftly climb trees and rock faces, he appears to be very poor at wielding traditional weaponry. Even as a spellcaster, staves seem too heavy to carry around. Instead, he relies on throwable knives and hatchets, smallswords, scepters, rods or his signature wand.When engaged in combat, Finn almost always fights with magic, utilizing spells based around the elements; particularly water, air, earth and nature. Unless forced to, he rarely uses lethal force on his enemies, preferring to incapacitate or other knock his enemies unconscious. He makes liberal use of his various familiars, and can also animate normally inanimate objects to fight for him, including weapons and armor.
Language Fluency:
Finn speaks with a very distinct Systrean dialect, more specifically the one used by sailors, mariners, fisherfolk and pirates as opposed to the refined vernacular of the nobility he was born into.He can speak, read and write perfectly in Bretic, Cyrodiilic, Nordic and Yoku, and otherwise communicate Reach-Tongue and Jel, though he speaks the Argonian tongue with heavy usage of Imperial inserts.He can interpret arcane scriptures such as runic languages.Perhaps a Druidic trick, he alleges that he can talk to plants and animals, as well as spirits of nature, such as spriggans.
Crafting & Creation
Through his mastery of tailoring and leatherworking, he is skilled in making clothes and armors from sources of hides and cloth. In tandem with having been taught by Druidic Elders, Finn can pretty much reliably source his materials from his surroundings, and craft a variety of thing such as tools, equipment and shelters. The question is more what CAN'T he make through Druidic ingenuity and crafting savvy.Even bereft of a forge, anvil and processed metals, he is resourceful enough to even be able to make feasible armor, weapons and serviceable tools, completely from scratch and discarded items.Finn enjoys cooking, so much so that it has become his primary avenue for his alchemical work. While he normally whips up his creations in the form of breads, pastries and other good from the oven, he can equally cater an entire meal or feast with potent alchemical properties. He can still make potions as is traditional.