Mentality
Personal history
Francis was born in Courwood, Celene, in what the sages call the Western Flanaess of Oerth but most others call, simply, the World of Greyhawk. His mother, Æstellára Fingôran, was a high elven maid who had become enamored of a burly, charming, young weaponsmithe, when his cart broke down in her settlement. During his unplanned stay (while the cart was repaired), the two became well-acquainted. After a short courtship, Æstellára and Bàelir Valhøërren pledged their troth in the nearby city of Courwood, where Bàelir had a modest shop. There, they lived many happy years and shared many joyous times. None was so joyous , however, as the birth of their child in 1151 C.Y. (3646 E.R.), whom they named Francis, in the human common tongue. His mother also named him Æörathe Fingôran in the elven tongue of Celene, to remind him of his heritage.
Due to increasing humanoid raids from the Pomarj, in 1162 C.Y. (3657 E.R.), Bàelir’s business was more prosperous than he had hoped. He and his wife were planning to take the money they managed to save and move to the capitol city of Enstad, where Bàelir hoped to work for the ducal army. Unfortunately, their plans—and their lives—were cut short.
One sad morning, as Francis was preparing the lessons that his mother forced upon him, the Zecharrím forces of the Pomarj sacked the border keep of Côm Cùllathe and moved on to the city. The evil humanoids were as savage as they were malevolent. They seemed to take pleasure in torturing their victims where possible and leaving many gasping their life’s breath in pools of their own blood. Francis’s family was no exception.
While the young man was upstairs, in the living quarters over the shop, the Zecharrím forces made their way to that end of town. So swift did they move in on the city that there was barely any warning at all of their invasion. Æstellára was cut down on the stairs, trying to reach her son; her husband split seconds before, trying to defend her. Sadly, Bàelir’s vocation was fixing weapons, not using them. Though he fought bravely, he had no chance against the cruel savagery of the Zecharrím.
Before the humanoids could advance to the second story to pillage and destroy the living quarters (and to surely murder young Francis), the city militia, along with a contingent of displaced militia from the surrounding towns, arrived hoping to procure some much needed arms.
While the militia bravely faced the overwhelming invasion, Francis crept from his hiding place upstairs and saw his parents laying at the bottom of the wooden stairway. Choking on his own cry of despair, he hurried to his mother’s side and cradled her head as she gurgled on her own blood. The young half-elf tried desperately to save her, using all the bandaging methods his mother taught him. There was nothing anybody could have done. Æstellára Fingôran died in the arms of her child, unable to speak her dying thoughts of love and despair.
When Francis was finally able to look up, to see with eyes unclouded by tears, he saw a militia soldier delivering a coup de grace to the last of the Zecharrím in the shop. The soldier then turned toward the quivering child and approached him with an astonishing empathy. The soldier, a local farmer named Delnar K’Ehlorn, took the boy to a militia staging area inside a secured, recaptured section of the city. There the young Francis was looked after by some townsfolk who’d been gathered to the area by other militiamen. The battle for the town lasted another eighteen hours.
When the dust settled about Courwood, the Celenites were victorious, but the battle was costly and, though it does not come into this tale the victory was short-lived and the town fell back into Zecharrím hands twenty hours later. Shortly after the humanoids were expelled, however, Delnar returned to the place he left Francis and found him helping the nurses attend the wounded. The poor lad was doing everything he could for those still living, carrying water pails, washing rags for dressing, handing out blankets. Delnar, tired and slightly wounded himself, felt such sympathy for the child he took him to his home in what was left of the farming community of Kor.
Delnar’s family took Francis as their own. Delnar’s wife, Marissa, immediately set about helping the young half-elf find his niche. She fed him, clothed him, and set him about doing chores appropriate for a boy his age. Delnar stayed home for only two days before setting off again to fight in the Suss Forest, to the south. There, he fought alongside Afinron Tholérravin at the beginning of the Seth’non, but was wounded, and therefore spared from the near destruction of Afinron’s forces before the Durnath Crimarion (the Slaughter). He returned home two and a half months after he left, alive, but his left arm was nearly useless.
Already, the K’Ehlorn family was getting along well with their foster charge. Francis proved to be a quick learner, and he adapted well to the hard life of farming. The work was especially difficult because the land needed special tilling and fertilizing after the Zecharrím raids. Emotionally, of course, he was still struggling with his parents’ deaths, especially the death of his mother. Marissa did what she could, Francis liked talking with her, but the lad carried the awful feeling that he was helpless to save them. The other children in the family, the boys, Arik (age 13) and Kelson (age 9) and the girls, Mara (age 15), Kora (age 8) and little Feona (age 4) did their best to include Francis in their play and for a while, it worked. But the trauma went deep.
One day, about two months after the fall of Courwood, while the family was busy in the fields, members of the local Temple of Berei were making their rounds through the village handing out food and other sundries and lending a hand where they could. Francis happened to look up from his work (he was collecting rocks from the fields to help the plow) to see Kora in the field across the road. She was chasing after an animal of some kind that had her scarf in its mouth when she fell with a cry. One of the Berein priests, resplendent in the goddess’s required bright green raiment, walked calmly toward the crying girl. Francis wandered over to see what happened when he saw something that would change his life forever. The priest knelt beside Kora and, speaking calmly and soothingly, he passed his hands over the girl’s wounded leg and the scrapes and swelling vanished. Francis was astonished. He ran up to the priest and exploded with a million questions. The priest was almost taken aback by the onslaught, but he smiled good-naturedly and tried to answer as much as he could.
Delnar and Marissa appeared and Marissa ushered Francis off toward the house. Delnar spoke with the priest for a short time and then returned home where the rest of his family had retired for the day. That night, at dinner, Delnar asked Francis if he would like to spend some time with the priests as they went about their charity work in the village. Of course the answer was yes, and he began spending time with the Berein priests the next day.
Time passed quickly for Francis. More quickly than he would have liked. For five years he worked on his foster family’s farm during the day and visited the Temple at night, studying and asking more questions. Finally, the High Priest of Berei, Tallorran G’Ehleth, asked Francis to join the order. And so it was that in 1167 C.Y. (3661 E.R.), the year Mara wed Koll’n the stablehand and Arik went off to seek his fortune in Greyhawk, to the north, Francis Æörathe Fingôran Valhøërren-K’Ehlorn entered into the service of the goddess Berei.
Francis proved to be an adept student of theology, and moved rapidly through the ranks of religious study. But in all the time he spent with the Berein priests, his thoughts were never far from the secrets of healing. He became very proficient in the use of the curing and healing spells of the order, and spent a great deal of time, when not in study or prayer, travelling about the village helping whoever he could, trying in vain to erase the stains of his mother’s blood.
Delnar and Marissa were very proud of Francis and he was grateful to them. One of the highlights of his life with them was performing the marriage ceremony for his sister Kora in 1172 C.Y. (3667 E.R.), when she married a young mage named Barak ‘Nor. The two settled across town from the family so Barak could spend his time quietly in study when he wasn’t cavorting about with his spirited wife.
Although Barak was young, he had traveled widely and seen and experienced things he kept to himself. Whatever they were, they convinced him to retire adventuring while still young and spend the rest of his life devoted to study and perfecting the arcane arts.
Kelson, a strapping lad of 19 now, had assumed much of the duties of the farm, and Feona took to looking after the village children and had some crazy ideas about educating them and teaching them (boys and girls) how to read and write. The village elders thought it might be worth trying something different. After all, in the Celenite cities and throughout the Elven Ulek states, it was not uncommon to educate everyone, commoner and magistrate, man and woman alike. They decided it might be time to try it in Kor (it was the 12th century, after all!).
Over the next few years, Francis continued his studies, the farm prospered, and Barak set up his library and study. Although he was a mage, and a retired one at that, Kora saw to it that he was friendly and sociable (as sociable as mages get, at any rate), and it was not uncommon for Francis to visit his sister and brother-in-law for dinner or simply to talk.
It was during one of these talks that Francis found himself drawn to the tales of magic and strange power controlled directly by the wizard (as opposed to the power simply channeled by the cleric). Half joking, and expecting Barak to defer, Francis asked if there were any spells he might be able to learn, to help him carry out his mission for Berei. Much to his surprise (and much to the Springwine) Barak agreed to show him a simple spell. It was nothing more than a bluelight cantrip, but after only a few weeks of study and practice, Francis mastered the spell.
Naturally, Barak was astonished. He offered to tutor Francis in the arcane arts in return for a favor he would not mention at the time. Francis was so excited about learning more, he readily accepted (after getting Barak to assure him the “favor” was nothing unsavory or that would go against the wishes of Berei).
The Berein priests were hesitant to give their blessings to Francis’s new studies, but he still dutifully continued in their tutelage and did not neglect the goddess or her messengers on Oerth. After a time, as the half-elf proved he could, indeed, study both, the priests revisited their feelings about his studies. They saw the inherent benefits of a Berein priest who could master both the spiritual and the mystical. They encouraged him in his studies and this seemed to give him the desired enthusiasm to continue rigorously.
Francis was ordained an Acolyte of the Temple of Berei in 1176 C.Y. (3671 E.R.). While he assumed the duties and responsibilities of the priesthood, he actually had more time to devote to his magical studies with Barak, and spent the next fifteen years doing so.
In that long time, he presided over the marriage of his sister, Feona, who married a retired half-elf Bard named Tahll’n Ur’Thàvos and settled in town to open an Inn and a school. Kora bore two children, Alianna and Œrik, and he learned that his sister, Mara had three sons named Aron, Morollan, and Kev’n. Arik was off in the world making a name for himself as a great Goblin-fighter; he distinguished himself in the [tooltip]ork deer-NASH|Orc-Durnás[/tooltip], the Goblin wars of 1178 C.Y. (3673 E.R.).
As the years passed for Francis, he started getting more and more restless. The true nature of his Elven longevity was starting to take root and conflict with his human-sided impatience. While he was learning more and more with each year, he was also remaining the same while those around him lived their lives and grew older. He started growing his hair longer to hide his more elven features (his pointed ears, his slender, unmarred face). But nothing he did could change the fact that, forty years after Delnar had saved him from the Zecharrím, he could see them as clearly as if it had happened the day before. He felt only as a young man and not a middle-aged cleric. His younger brothers and sisters were middle-aged parents and he was almost as a human of twenty.
Tales of his heroic brother only fueled his desire to go out and aid others in their great efforts to help the people of the world. Francis longed to heal his companions after a big battle, to cast magic missiles in blinding flashes of mage-light, to kill as many Zecharrím as possible, and to rid the world of the evil blight of the humanoid threat. The high priest of Berei saw his restlessness and his attempts to feel, or at least look, human, and knew the time had come for Francis to set on his path in the world.
And so it was that in 1191 C.Y. (3686 E.R.), Francis set out from Kor with the blessing of the Temple of Berei, the love of his family, and the memory of an unavenged wrong.
Social
Current Residence
Taer-Mithéngol
Honorary & Occupational Titles
Lord Mayor of Newcott Keep
Wealth & Financial state
In addition to his personal wealth, gathered over his adventures, Francis was also granted Newcott Keep and the surrounding lands by King Duncan Cardane of Calize.