Finch Okafor
Dr. Finch Okafor (a.k.a. Doc)
This babe is a tightly wound bundle of nerves and anxiety. Med school was not a good fit for them but they tried it anyway because that's what their sister Phoebe was doing.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Perfectly average in every respect. As a changeling, Finch has total control over their height and build, and as such chooses to present as ordinary a front as possible.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Growing up Finch always followed their sister Phoebe, who is pretty much their polar opposite in personality: vivacious, confident, and outgoing.
Finch liked the studying and researching part of med school a lot but boy howdy was the practicing part a challenge. Thank all the gods for the residency morgue rotation. What a relief to find an interesting occupation that DIDN'T cause their stress to skyrocket.
Gender Identity
Non-binary
Sexuality
Ambiguous
Education
As the child of two well-off but not particularly affluent parents, Finch's education while growing up was fairly standard, filled with the typical hallmarks of public school classes.
Even outside of class, Finch was a voracious reader and gravitated toward whatever books, fiction or non-fiction, they could get their hands on. This supplimental material fairly nicely rounded out the standard, government-approved curriculum they were subject to.
Upon graduating at 18, they followed their sister to medical school, where they completed their undergrad and graduate requirements to earn their M.D.
Employment
Upon completing their medical residency at age 26, Finch immedately took on the duties of medical examinor at a fairly large hospital. They remained happily in this position until a short time after they turned 30, when they were wrongfully accused of practicing necromancy and subsequently incarcerated at a maximum security penetentary.
That sure escalated quickly.
Having escaped, however, they're now something of a freelance doctor-of-all-trades. This is something they have the background for, although they're not particularly comfortable in the role.
Accomplishments & Achievements
- Survived Medical School
- Escaped Event Horizons Penitentary
Failures & Embarrassments
- Has no control over their Unsettling Visage
Relationships
A socially-anxious cleric of Kelemvor working as a medical examiner in a large hospital. More comfortable around the dead than the living. Their best friend is a ghost named Wilhelm who is in no hurry to move on to the afterlife.
View Character Profile
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
Age
30
Date of Birth
December 6
Spouses
Siblings
Phoebe Okafor
(Sister)
Children
Gender
Non-binary
Eyes
Brown (default)
Hair
Black (default)
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Dark, with patchy vitiligo (default)
Height
5ft 9in
Weight
170lbs
- Common
- Dwarven
- Giantish
- Undecided 1 (maybe Infernal?)
- Undecided 2 (maybe Celestial?)
Cutting the Power
Chapter 6, Session 35
Dear Phoebe,
I’m so frustrated with myself I could scream. In our search for easy booty (Get it? Because we’re pirates?), we followed a distress signal to a derelict space station. It had all the appearances of an abandoned facility, so we boarded it, thinking it would be a quick in and out.
It was not a quick in and out.
As soon as we docked, our ship’s power was cut, so we ventured forth to find out how to undo the lockdown, loot, and leave.
I don’t even know how to describe what we encountered without sounding like the summary for a cheesy B-movie.
The station was infested - and INFECTED - with the undead. Some aspect of Myrkul had gotten into the station’s computer system hundreds of years ago when the planet the station was orbiting was destroyed, and it had been festering in there ever since. Our presence, it seems, caused the infection to come to a head and spill over. We spent four days in that hellhole and barely made it out alive.
At the end of it all, after we had finally managed to gain access to the station’s control tower to undo the lockdown and return power to our ship so that we could leave, the Shade of Myrkul confronted us. And this is where I’m kicking myself. It was only interested in talking to me and ignored my companions. I wish it had talked to Galva or Eo, who we’re both far more level-headed than I could hope to be at that point.
Phoebe, I was so tired, and disgusted, and ANGRY. I was at the absolute end of my rope, and couldn’t think straight. This aspect of an evil god was right in front of me, and it wanted so badly to gloat and to lord it over me, the pathetic, idiot disciple of a missing god. And instead of letting it, I shut it down. It claimed to know what happened to Kelemvor - it claimed to have killed him! I could have asked it where it had done so, at the very least, I could have gotten SOME clue. I could have swallowed my pride and groveled a bit, because it was so clearly looking to be entertained, and we both know the kinds of behaviors that entertain bullies the best. I’m certain doing so would have gotten me SOME answers. But do you think I did? Of course I didn’t.
I don’t know if that aspect of Myrkul is still out in the void of space, or if it was killed when the station exploded. I hope it’s dead. Even if that Shade was just a drop in the bucket, one less drop of evil in the galaxy will do good for someone, somewhere.
I can hear you now, telling me to stop dwelling on the bad and to focus on the positive. So, I will attempt to do so, and share that with you as well; an uplifting closer to a truly depressing letter.
Zellias has improved somewhat with his aim. Although he DID cast Fireball centered on himself a couple of times while we were trapped, he centered the majority of the Fireballs he cast on OTHER targets. My constant nagging must be having some effect at last.
We encountered a Revenant in one of the staff break rooms in the station’s hospital. Somehow, by some small miracle, the DDR machine in that room was still functioning, and by a very lucky coincidence, Eo is a DDR pro. She challenged the Revenant to a dance-off, and won! She beat his high score, he was able to pass on peacefully, and now we have a DDR cabinet for the ship.
Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, Lifting the physical lockdown on our ship also somehow freed the hundreds of souls who had spent the past few centuries trapped in that hell. The station-destroying explosion I mentioned earlier was of course the work of the captain. It took out an entire colony of undead abominations along with - I hope - the Shade of Myrkul. The destruction of the god that had stolen their lives was the closure those hundreds of souls had needed, and they were all able to pass on.
…Honestly, as I write that, I DO feel a little better. You’re right, as always. If I find myself dwelling for too long on the abysmal performance of my exhausted brain, I will try to remember the feeling of helping all of those poor souls, instead. I could certainly have done a lot better, but in the grand scheme of things, I could have done worse.
I miss you so much it hurts.
Please take care of yourself. I shall endeavor to do the same.
All my love,
Finch
The Lunar Epilogue
Chapter 5, Session 26
Dear Phoebe,
Now that we’ve officially left, I can tell you all about the Lunar Festival on Chandran, the Temple of Selune, the grisly murders, the were-shark (with pants), and the sweet new friend that we made.
Before I go into details, though, I want to start off with the most important thing: While investigating the aforementioned grisly murders, I somewhat inadvertently acquired a patient - a living patient, to clarify. Since I am in the unlucky position of being unable to follow up with her, I referred her to you. She seemed interested in meeting you when I suggested it, so if a young Eladrin woman named Megrys turns up in the next few weeks or months, it’s because she’s come to see you on my recommendation.
In broad strokes, she’s recovering from the traumatic amputation of her right leg below the knee (were-shark bite), along with the psychological trauma of witnessing her two long-time friends savagely and brutally dismembered by the same creature that took her limb.
I know I don’t have to tell you that I dislike being unable to follow up with her. If she does contact you, and if you are able, please let me know how she’s doing.
Alright, so: The Festival in Lunasol. The big draw wasn’t actually the festival, it was the chance to find Selune’s temple, which appears for a few hours during each of the four yearly solar eclipses. We arrived a few days ahead of time, and ran into (or, more accurately, I was run into by) a young woman named Faeryn. She immediately made it her life’s mission to befriend us, and…well, she did.
She showed us around the city and we all had a generally nice time - until the murders began. By some unholy coincidence, two of the festival attendees I had spoken to briefly were brutally murdered in their campsite, their bodies shredded to ribbons and spread far and wide across the lakeshore where they were camped.
Naturally we started poking around. Only one of the two bodies were discovered by the Authority. The other we were able to locate in a secluded boathouse on the lake. There was just enough left of the poor soul’s body to communicate using Speak With Dead. We followed the trail of their killer to an island in the middle of the lake, which is where we found Megrys - already mutilated as I have described above, but alive. I was able to stabilize her enough to move, and we returned to the city and brought her to a hospital.
In hindsight this was a mistake, because who should follow her there but Mikalo Saramath, the Dark Matters hero and the therianthropic monster who had murdered her friends and eaten her leg in the first place. I don’t know whether or not I fooled him while pretending to be her sister, but if I did manage it, he discovered my ruse shortly anyway - acting as a proper law-abiding peace keeper, he gave me his business card and told me to contact him if she woke up. Once he left, I was able to use magic to help her into consciousness, and that card transmitted our subsequent conversation to him.
Mikalo and the Dark Matters were ruining the festival for everyone because they were looking for the Temple of Selune. He learned the method to travel from the planet’s surface to the Temple from Lunasol’s mayor, who happens to be the adoptive sister to our new friend, Faeryn. Faeryn had learned a lot from my companions and I in the short time we had known her, and bravely but very, very foolishly followed Mikalo on her own.
She was badly injured when we caught up to them in Selune’s Temple, but not dead, thankfully. The fight with Mikalo was…well, it was brutal. He was a warlock of Talos, and the pact he made granted him a monstrous therianthropic form - that of the be-pantsed were shark I mentioned at the beginning of the letter.
Phoebe, I looked into that thing’s eyes and along its rows and rows and rows of teeth, and got a glimpse down its throat as it pulled me into its mouth. I have never been more terrified in my life. I had nightmares of the Shade of Cyric, but those pale in comparison to the horrors conjured by those soulless eyes shining through dark water. It bit my legs, and I swear I felt its teeth on my bones before it let go. Cure Wounds made sure I didn’t lose my legs, thankfully, but even despite the magic I now have a ring of jagged scars in the middle of both my thighs, front and back. Every time I will them away, they return as soon as I stop thinking about them.
If it had been the goal of my accuser to ruin my life with false claims of necromancy, then I spitefully hope that they never find out how thoroughly and agonizingly successful they have been.
To wrap up - well, we all survived, again, somehow. Mikalo Saramath is dead, his throat torn out by Zellias, of all people. It’s a real tragedy someone hadn’t killed him sooner. The number of lives he’s actually destroyed while hiding under the protective blanket of the Aether Council is heartbreaking and enraging. I truly hope those many, many families are able to get some kind of justice, but knowing the Aether Council…well. I don’t have to say it, but we’re both thinking it. I can at least take some comfort in the knowledge that he is no longer capable of hurting anyone.
We were able to return to Lunasol after everything was said and done, and enjoy the rest of the festival. It felt a little unreal, given everything I had seen and experienced only hours prior, but…To be honest, I think it was the best possible thing I could have done immediately after all that terror. The participants were so full of light and joy, and the whole event was warm and welcoming - I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. I will try to hold on to memories of the festival when the dark ones inevitably invade my thoughts.
I realize there’s a lot about this letter that you will find frustrating, and for that, I apologize. I’ve spent enough time agonizing over what to share, and if it makes you feel any better, know that I’m also deeply unsatisfied with the result. But it is what it is, and it’s how it has to be.
I miss you.
All my love,
Finch
Deneir Theater
Chapter 4, Session 20
Dear Phoebe,
I have witnessed Captain Zellias Vance-Arland cast the spell Fireball FOUR times since I’ve met him, and he has centered himself in the blast for THREE of them. The most recent two weren’t even twelve hours apart!
I’m not getting paid enough for this.
I’m not getting paid at all.
In broad strokes once again (and I apologize in advance - I know I’m driving you absolutely insane by leaving out key details. I’m aware you know WHY I’m leaving them out, but I still feel terrible), we managed to locate the remains of a temple to Deneir. Finding it was not easy, and getting to it nearly killed us, but we made it in the end. The building was abandoned, naturally, save for a skeleton staff of Eidolons, Spectators, Mind Witnesses, and a Gauth. As you can imagine, they were not happy with our presence. But, as you can probably infer from this letter, those creatures are no longer haunting that edifice of knowledge.
Even abandoned and in disrepair, the entire structure was truly magnificent. It was exactly the sort of place you and I would happily have become lost in before it was abandoned. Room after room lined with shelves, crammed floor to ceiling with books of all sorts. Time has damaged the majority of those books beyond repair, and an impulsive Fireball from the captain took care of the rest. That particular bastion of knowledge was lost long before we set foot inside, but my part in the completion of that loss still pains me. Perhaps there were still volumes there that were worth saving, but I’ll never know now.
We didn’t find Deneir, unfortunately, but we did find a digital backup. How one can make a digital backup of a GOD I have no idea, but that is what we found. The AI was able to answer some of our questions, but time has damaged that database nearly as badly as it had damaged the books. The AI was unaware the gods have disappeared, and was only able to tell us their last known location, at least as far as it knew: A place called, most unhelpfully, "God World".
I’m no closer to finding Kelemvor than I was before we braved the dangers to reach Deneir’s temple. All we got for our troubles are more questions than answers. I’m frustrated beyond description, but I’m not giving up yet.
We have one more lead to follow up on - I’ll write again to tell you as much as I can after we’re inevitably chased off world by the Authority.
Take Care -
All my Love,
Finch
The Settling Dust
Chapter 3, Session 17
Dear Phoebe,
I'm sure you've already seen the news, again. I wish I had something to say in my defense this time, but the Council's propaganda machine is essentially on point, for once. I must admit, I am a little surprised to realize I don't feel as much guilt about it as I might have before the whole Event Horizons thing.
Once again, as we flee the scene of the crime for our next big circus, I'm left reflecting on the number of very good people I met before the warehouse went up in flames.
The first one is likely to be a recurring encounter, as it is through him I am sending this letter. He admitted to reading the previous letters I sent, so I have no doubt he's also reading this one (Hello, Rhys). The difference this time, is, I hope, that the Authority is NOT also reading it. While I would prefer it if he didn't read my private correspondence at all, if that is the price that must be paid for keeping my mail below the Authority's radar, then it is one I will pay without too much complaint. At the risk of inflating his already enormous ego, I will say that he does appear to be a truly capable and kind-hearted person, so he has that going for him, at least. As long as I keep Zellias alive (which is turning out to be an absolutely Herculean task), I think I can count on him to keep whatever he learns by reading this to himself.
I won't say much about the others I met until I can confirm the efficacy of Rhys' system, other than to describe one as a very kind, wise old soul and the other as an idiot with a heart of gold in the wrong line of work.
I wonder what stories you remember hearing about Zellias Vance-Arland? The ones I remember always paint him as this larger-than-life prodigy spell caster without a heart or soul, whose only cares in life were the pursuit of wealth and chaos, and not necessarily in that order.
Would you believe that this fearsome and dangerous pirate cast Fireball, centered on himself, and absolutely wrecked himself in the blowback? I pulled him back from the brink of death because he’d got his ego bruised by a little bit of trash talk from some Adamantine Authority intern. Admittedly, he did kill the man with the spell, but on the whole that particular victory would have been a lot less impressive if I hadn’t been there to cast Cure Wounds on his stupid face. What an ignominious way to go, allowing one’s ego to override common sense.
I’m not sure what’s coming next, other than it’s sure to be at least as dangerous as everything I’ve encountered up until this point. We’ve found some leads on my search for Kelemvor, so we’re taking off to follow up on them. As I have before, I’ll tell you where we’re going once we’ve left. Hopefully you won’t hear about whatever we get up to from the Council’s propaganda machine until I have a chance to tell you myself.
Stay safe, and I will do my best to do the same.
All my love,
Finch
Toppling a God
Chapter 2, Session 12
Dear Phoebe,
Well, I just received the unpleasant and unwelcome reminder of how utterly fucked I am. I suppose at least the wanted posters spared mother and father the indignity of having their name directly associated with a dangerous, irredeemable criminal, but I'm not particularly pleased to have my given name so front and center. Or to have such a poster at all, honestly.
If I sound salty it's because I am. Your salary isn't much better than mine used to be. Why am I worth more to the Aether Council as a criminal than I was as an educated and productive member of their precious society?
That's a rhetorical question, obviously.
I'm not writing entirely to whine - I want to set the record straight about Aposa, on Doth. I will feel a little better knowing that you, at least, know the truth despite the endless churn of the Council's propaganda machine. There were no riots in Aposa, and no deposing of a lawful and benevolent leader. My fellow criminals and I unseated a despot, who is now facing judgment from the people she oppressed. The majority of that populace follow Torm, so I expect she'll receive a kinder judgment there than she would elsewhere. Certainly she'll fare better than she would at the hands of the Authority. *I* was only accused and convicted of practicing necromancy, which is a drop in the bucket compared to her crimes, and yet I was imprisoned in Event Horizons.
…I swear I'm not writing to you just to complain, but it feels as if that's all I'm doing. I'm sorry.
The despot I mentioned is a woman named Zasliara. She used to belong to an order of Paladins based in Aposa, known as The Light of Ages. Years ago, she left Doth to travel the stars searching for Torm, following what she believed to be his call. It wasn't Torm calling at all, however, but Cyric. Deceived into believing him to be Torm, she swore a brutal oath to follow him, and return to her home in the name of Torm. All this time, she's been duping the people of the city and channeling their faith in Torm to fatten Cyric, instead.
This is where it gets truly unbelievable: My three companions and I confronted her in Torm's desecrated cathedral. In the midst of the fight, I called on Kelemvor's aid, as I have very often since escaping prison. Eo goaded Zasliara into reciting the oath she made to Cyric, the Oath of Conquest. I countered her with Torm's Oath of Devotion while channeling divinity to bolster the attacks of my companions. My hope in doing that was to create enough cognitive dissonance to snap her out of Cyric's hold on her, and, well. It sort of worked. Not only did Kelemvor heed my call for aid, Torm showed up as well. I had no idea what to do with so much divine power, so I left the matter to Kelemvor. He revealed a parasitic shade, an aspect of Cyric that had blinded Zasliara and been guiding her actions, likely from the moment she swore her oath.
The illusion on the cathedral shattered like glass, and the desecration was laid bare. It appeared as though the place had not hosted a single soul for many, many years, although I know from firsthand experience that the foot traffic of Torm's followers and devotees through there had been prodigious up until that point. The Shade of Cyric was, you can probably imagine, enraged, and wasted no time in attacking me directly. In any other instance I may very well have died of fright on the spot, but bolstered as I was with Kelemvor's presence, I was more angry at the thing than anything else. It poured so much hatred and vitriol into my mind in those few brief moments, even now the memory takes my breath away. But Kelemvor had not abandoned me, and with his help I smote the thing where it stood.
I've been having trouble sleeping, since then. Kelemvor's domain is death, not dreams, and I've been having more of the latter than I would prefer. One thing the shade said to me in particular stands out - it said, "they're gone, and we can do whatever we want!"
Given my experiences up until that point, I can only assume "they" refers to the lawful gods. Kelemvor has always felt distant, but I had always figured that was normal. In the course of uncovering Zasliara's desecration, I encountered a man named Darius, a paladin of Torm. I have never met someone so welcoming and warm in my entire life. His experience with his god's distance seems far starker than mine. In hindsight the disparity is clearly to do with Cyric's blasphemous presence in Torm's holy place. This entire experience has been frightening and unpleasant, but it has confirmed to me a new purpose. I have access to a ship, three capable companions I don't hate, and more free time than I've ever had before in my life. I will use this opportunity to search for my god. I have been thinking for a while now that I need to find Kelemvor - literally, physically find him, and the events in Aposa have convinced me I'm on the correct course. I am determined, however, to pursue my search with logic and reason. I will not fall prey to the blind devotion that allowed Zasliara to be deceived.
We've left Doth as I write this - someone tipped off the Authority to our location, so we got out of there before they could arrive. I'll write again once we run away from our next destination, I suppose. For better or for worse, it looks like this is my life, now.
I love you,
Finch
After the Ruin
Chapter 2, Session 9
Dear Phoebe,
Here is your promised follow-up: despite the wildly careless captain's best efforts at burying all of us under the remains of an old Giantkin ruin, I'm still alive. We all survived. We found what we were after, deep at the bottom of an ancient and still functioning automated facility, and I am utterly without words to describe it.
There was so much knowledge there, lost first due to the trajectory of the planet on which it was stored, and now far more permanently under tons of rock. Perhaps the Adamantine Authority will excavate it. They likely will, given their greed for such things. It feels strange to hope that what is buried there is unrecoverable, but what other recourse is there? The ruin once manufactured weapons, and the Authority already has an alarming amount of those. Given what its "discoverers" will do with such a wealth of knowledge, that particular ruin is better off lost.
I still don't know what to think of this man I've been forced to fall in with. I guess it probably doesn't matter whether I use his name, it isn't as if it's going to incriminate me further. You remember growing up and watching the news with our parents. We both heard about him from time to time. Captain Zellias Vance-Arland, the notorious, dangerous, bloodthirsty pirate. One of those descriptors is correct, but not, I feel, for the usual reasons something or someone is labeled "dangerous". He's dangerous in the same way an idiot teenager who's accepted a stupid dare is dangerous. Is he going to get himself and likely others hurt or killed? Without a doubt. Is he doing it with malicious intent? Absolutely not. He strikes me as a man who has either never suffered the consequences of his actions, or - perhaps worse - learns nothing from them. And somehow I have found myself in the uncomfortable position of keeping him alive. I'm sure you'll appreciate the irony for me, in this instance. I'm far too close to the cause of it to feel any appreciation for it, myself.
Thankfully he is not my only company. The two others I wrote of in my last letter are still with us, and as time passes I find myself more and more grateful for their presence.
Eo Tyr was my cell mate in Event Horizons. She was imprisoned for suplexing a dwarven diplomat who, I understand, was in talks with her family regarding the possibility of joining the Aether Council. The very first thing she did to me when we met was to suplex me. It's apparently just like a handshake to her. Thankfully she quickly realized that I'm not nearly as sturdy as your average dwarven diplomat, and hasn't attempted to do that to me since. She's a naturally positive, optimistic person, and I honestly do not know how I would have survived that month in prison without her by my side. I know there were a fair number of rumors circulating about me among the general prison populace, which likely was part of the reason I was left mostly to myself, but her presence definitely deterred any who might not have been put off by the idea of messing with an accused necromancer.
I don't know Galva's last name, but as her first name suggests, she is like a rock. The accusation of burglary with a side of murder is what got her sent to Event Horizons. However, much like the Captain and Eo, I don't believe she has a malicious bone in her body. You would laugh to witness Galva and I attempting to converse - believe it or not, I may have discovered the one person in the universe even more socially inept than myself. We only began associating a few days before breaking out of prison, though I had seen her around for several weeks before. She's as intimidating in appearance as she is awkward in conversation - she must be nine feet tall, and every inch of her frame is hard muscle. Eo, less than three feet tall by comparison, introduced herself to Galva in the same manner she introduced herself to me, and was - astonishingly - just as successful. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't witnessed it.
All in all, the company I'm keeping is not as bad as it could be,considering…well, everything. Also, I forgot to mention before, I was able to recover Wilhelm! After using him as evidence of my nefarious necromantic tendencies, they just stuffed him in storage with the rest of my possessions. He sends his regards, by the way. If nothing else, maybe being forced to run around the galaxy will reveal the missing puzzle piece to helping him move on. I'll keep you updated on that, too, if it changes.
All my love,
Finch
A Letter Home
Chapter 2, Session 6
Dear Phoebe,
I have been staring at this blank document for far too long trying to figure out what to write. I won't lie and say that I'm well, because I'm not, but I'm alive, and that is what I've - ironically - been dying to assure you of for the past month. I'm certain it's been all over the news by now, but I thought you might like a note all the same.
I'm alive, but possibly not for much longer, because I've found myself in the company of an extremely...I feel like calling him "dangerous" is overstating matters. Careless might be a better descriptor. I've found myself in the company of an extremely careless man, who appears prone to doing many stupid things in rapid succession. I understand that he's been doing many stupid things in rapid succession for at least one hundred years now. I'm astonished that he's survived for so long.
My other two companions for the time being are, as of this writing, less volatile. Or at least more sensible? So far. They've both saved my life once each, one during the break out and one right before. I'm more inclined to trust them at the moment, although I'll be frank, and I'm sure this will be no surprise to you - allocating my trust in such a way is terrifying, but I feel I have no alternative.
I want to leave, but I have nowhere to go. Coming home would be a singularly stupid thing to do, so that's out of the question. I'm writing to you mere hours before I embark on a different, equally stupid venture. We are at the moment pursuing a rogue planet that is hurtling through space at high velocity, and we intend to land on it and search its depths for lost treasure.
I can't believe i just wrote that, but as wild as it sounds, it is the truth.
If we survive this, I will write you again. I'm sorry I can't be more explicit - I want to tell you every horrid detail of every horrid thing that's happened to me since the trial, but I'm afraid of saying too much.
If you don't hear from me again, please remember that I love you. Give my love to Mom and Dad.
Finch
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