Human. Ex-military. Follower of Desna.
Francis wears his military-issue breastplate hidden beneath a plain light-brown tunic under his dark brown traveller’s cloak. He carries a well-worn military-issue pack upon his back. His hair is now quite thin and white, and his eye-brows grow wildly as though to make up for it. His chin shows some grey stubble as he only needs to shave once a week. He carries his flail on his belt, and his large wooden shield on his back.
Francis’ clear pale-blue eyes are set deep within their sockets, and they glisten with a deep well of hard-earned wisdom. His aged body does not react as quickly as it used to, and it sometimes struggles with a load where he would have once carried it without a complaint from one side of the mountains to the other.
[Behind the Scenes] – Francis’ first level is Barbarian to represent the years of training that he can conjure in the heat of battle. The rest of his levels will be as a Cleric of Desna.
Francis had attained the rank of Captain within his regiment in the town of Warwitch. He fulfilled a role of chief disciplinarian, though he was like a father to most of the boys who were sent as newly trained recruits. He found a gentle though firm and consistent hand, with a few wise words and an eye on their progress worked wonders for the novices who were sent to this remote post, and for those who were sent and left here as an unofficial punishment.
More a thinker than a soldier Francis was nonetheless able to hold his own in battle. He still trained regularly with the new recruits each morning, though his paperwork kept him back from more training throughout the day.
His fiftieth birthday left Francis feeling unusually quiet and contemplative. He suddenly took leave without pay and travelled west with his dog, seeking the wisdom of the elves. Nine weeks later he returned with a letter of resignation, citing the need to answer the call of the goddess Desna. He now knew a better way to serve his people.