Stergenallen Von

Stergen is a half-elven ranger from the World of Greyhawk who found himself transported to Arn, with Francis Whitelock, by an arcane accident. He is a stalwart member of the adventuring band that has been dubbed The Strangers, by the bards and minstrels of Calize.

Appearance

Physical Description

Stergen is extremely fit, athletic, and surprisingly strong. Few men can match or exceed his great strength. Coupled with his remarkable agility and hearty stamina, Stergen is force to be reckoned with in a fight.

Identifying Characteristics

Stergen has a long scar across his face and is missing the tip of one ear, the result of a terrible strike from his own reflection, which was brought to life by an ancient trap under Caer N'Gor.

Mentality

Personal history

Stergenallen Von, or Stergen as he prefers to be known, was born in 1147 C.Y. (3642 E.R.), in Qardenwood, a small town in the County of Ulek in what the sages call the Western Flanaess of Oerth. Most others call it simply, the World of Greyhawk. Qardenwood lies north, between the Kewl River and the Old River, near the capitol city of Junre.
Stergen was the only child of a human blacksmith named Luther Von and an elven woman named Múrien Aspúrial. Luther defied the blacksmith stereotype and was both charming and sociable. In 1144 C.Y. (3639 E.R.), Múrien’s horse threw a shoe during a stormy night’s ride while fleeing a Zecharrím raid. She barely escaped. Tired, she turned her brave mount toward the nearby human settlement of Qardenwood. There, she sought out the town blacksmith, to reshoe her lovely steed. The smith was awestruck by her beauty. He vowed to himself that they would see each other again. They did, many times, for over a year. They were finally wed under a harvest moon in 1145 C.Y (3640 E.R.).

Although the Elves did not rejoice in Múrien’s choice, they respected her feelings. The Elves have a deep understanding of emotion. Múrien’s brother, Doran, made frequent visits to his sister when he was in the area. He was a ranger and traveled the area to a great extent.

In 1147 C.Y. (3642 E.R.), Múrien gave birth to Stergenallen. He was a strong and healthy lad, who exhibited the best traits of his mixed heritage as he grew to manhood. From his mother, he was handsome, quick, and displayed a deep affinity for Nature. From his father, he was strong, hardy, and loved to work metal.

Although Stergen never really fit in with the other, human, children around him, the young half-elf found solace in his chores and studies. Throughout his youth, young Stergen helped in the shop with his father, and studied his lessons with his mother. And, whenever his uncle Doran stopped by, the two went off to explore nearby Silverwood. Thus, Stergen learned his letters, history, and other genteel subjects along with plant and animal lore and the ways of the woods.

When Stergen was 12 years old, he became formally apprenticed to his father. Now Stergen truly began to create. He still worked the forge and bellows, fetched water, and cleaned tools, but now, too, he began to smith simple implements, such as horseshoes and nails.

True to form, Stergen learned the craft swiftly and his father and mother were proud of their son’s skill. By the end of the first year of his apprenticeship, Stergen was making tools and simple armaments. It was not much longer before he learned how to make more complex weapons and armor.

When Stergen came of age, in 1163 C.Y. (3657 E.R.), his father revealed to him the Von family secret, how to work black adamantite. It was early winter and Luther sat his son down by the hearth fire and solemnly told Stergen the Legend of Talbard Von, Stergen’s great, great grandfather, who was given the knowledge to work black adamantite by a messenger from Heaven (see below).

Stergen was amazed, if a bit skeptical. But, later, his father took him into the forge. There, Luther instructed Stergen to help him move the large anvil and pedestal. As the anvil slid aside, Stergen saw a small hole, the size of a man’s head. Luther bent down on one knee and reached into the hole. Almost reverently, he withdrew a fabric-swathed ingot of metal. Gingerly, he unwrapped the metal and presented it to Stergen.

Stergen knelt there, agape, and stared at the precious metal. Without any conscious thought, his hand reached out and brushed it’s surface.

“Take it,” said Luther.

Stergen tore his eyes from the metal and met his father’s gaze.

“Take it, and we will forge it into your blood sword.” Father and son forging a special sword, called a blood sword, was a Von tradition.

Stergen took the adamantite, hefted it in his hand, marveled at its lighter-than-expected weight, and grinned.

The next day, they began. Luther helped the young Stergen shape and forge his blood sword. There were many false starts, but Luther was very patient and helpful, and Stergen gradually learned how to work the adamantite. When he finished tempering the sword with a final quenching in sheep’s blood, Stergen named it Men’nthol (“river maker,” as in ‘river of blood,’ in the ancient Suloise language). Father and son lovingly continued their work, engraving and polishing Men’nthol and creating the quillions, hilt, and pommel. In accordance with tradition, Múrien gave Stergen a lock of her hair to braid into the scabbard with wire and leather. After six weeks, they were finished.

Múrien prepared a special feast and the Vons invited friends and family to enjoy their celebration. The feast was a marvelous party and Stergen enjoyed being the center of attention. But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but notice that the only member of his mother’s side of the family who joined them was his uncle Doran.

The following week, Stergen and his father were working on a large order of horseshoes, for the Qardenwood militia. Luther left the workshop to get some fresh air, when he saw a scuffle at the corner of the street. He shouted out and ran over to the commotion. Stergen heard his father and moved to the open front of the shop for a better look.

Luther grabbed a broom from a nearby storefront and waded into the scuffle, two men struggling. He interceded and a shady-looking man, in a billowing cloak hissed at him and ran off. Luther helped the other man back to his blacksmith shop.

As they approached, he shouted to Stergen to get some cool water from the well and then he made the stranger sit. Stergen returned quickly with a pail of water and a wooden flagon. The stranger gratefully drank the water and thanked Luther. He introduced himself as Brandon Lornallast, a messenger from Count Zeno, in Zenn. He was carrying an important message and Luther kept the other man from taking it. In gratitude, he presented Luther with a pouch and, before the large man could refuse it, the messenger stood and left (at a brisk pace).

Stergen watched with wonder as Luther opened the pouch and emptied several gems into his hand. That night, as Stergen lay in his bed, he heard his parents talking well into the night.

The next day, Múrien told Stergen that they decided to use the money to move to Junre, where Luther could open a larger shop. Luther had originally resisted the idea, but he realized that he could join the guild there, take on apprentices, and really improve life for his family. Stergen didn’t want to leave his home, but his best friend, Galen, had left for the city last year, to study magic, and Stergen had been kind of lonely. Now he could see his friend more than once every three moons.

The next day, Múrien left for the city, to look for a place for the new shop and home. Stergen and Luther kept up their work, but Luther was quiet. When Stergen asked him what was wrong, Luther stopped his hammering and stared for a short time at the anvil. Stergen kept quiet, knowing that his father was sorting out what he wanted to say.

“It seems wrong,” he said at last. “I helped Mr. Lornallast because it looked like he needed help, not to get some reward.

“What’s wrong with getting a reward,” Stergen asked, it seemed fair to him.

Luther looked up, directly into his son’s eyes. “Son, good deeds are rewards unto themselves,” he said, “by helping others, we help ourselves. I didn’t want that reward. I didn’t earn it. All I did was chase someone away.”

Stergen just looked at his father, puzzled. Luther smiled and put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Some day, I’m sure you’ll understand,” he reassured, and then he resumed his work.

The next day, the blacksmiths were finishing their militia order. It was market day, too, so Luther sent Stergen to get some fresh fruit so they could enjoy a nice lunch. It was the last time Stergen saw his father alive.

As Stergen returned from the market, he saw a large commotion in the street and flames coming from the shop. He rushed to the smithy, but some town guards held him back from the roaring flames. The entire shop and was consumed in fire, including the living areas next door.

Stergen cried out and it took three guards to restrain the youthful half-elf. The heat was blistering and the townsfolk were unable to quench the fire until there was almost nothing left of the Von home. When the fire was finally put out, they found Luther’s charred remains near the forge, his leg under what was left of a pile of goods. Apparently, his leg got caught and, in his attempts to free himself, he accidentally started the fire.

A messenger found Múrien in Junre and she returned, only two days after the incident. Grief-stricken, she decided to return to Silverwood, to her family. Thus began Stergen’s life among the elves.

But Stergen felt out of place among his mother’s people, possibly even more than he did among the humans of Qardenwood. The elven smiths were friendly enough and they let him do work, but it seemed to Stergen they were only humoring him.

The boy took to walking in the forest, to calm down. After a while, his walks became small excursions, sometimes lasting days. Occasionally, his Uncle Doran would accompany him.

One day, in 1167 C.Y. (3660 E.R.), after an especially strong disagreement with Fallan, the chief smith of Moonglade, Múrien’s elven settlement, Stergen stormed off to the woods, to try to calm down. The half-elf pressed on, ever deeper into the woods. All at once, he looked up to find himself in the middle of a party of orcs. Thinking quickly, Stergen grabbed the sword hilt of one of the humanoids’ weapons and drew it from the scabbard. He was clumsy with a blade, but the orcs didn’t know that. They hesitated and that was all the time Stergen needed to make a break for it.

The surprised orcs quickly recovered and gave chase. Unencumbered, Stergen’s lead lengthened and the orcs eventually lost interest. Just as they were about to break pursuit, Doran found them.

The ranger was swift and merciless. Watching his uncle with detached fascination, Stergen knew exactly what he wanted to do. After the slaughter, Doran checked to make sure Stergen was all right.

“For the first time, in a long while,” replied Stergen. The two continued walking in the woods for a bit. They talked about the elves, the forest, and what it meant to be a ranger.

“It’s a lonely way of life,” warned Doran.

“Perfect,” said Stergen.

Doran was cautious, but seemed to understand. He agreed to teach Stergen how to be a ranger.

And so began Stergen’s long and arduous training. At first, Doran would teach Stergen some things and then go away for a while, always the wandering ranger. When Doran was gone, Stergen would spend a lot of time in Silverwood by himself. There, he practiced what Doran had taught him and discovered new things on his own.

His mother missed him, but they discussed his choices and she understood why he made them. Unhappy that she was unable to soothe her son’s troubles, Múrien did the best she could to make his time at home pleasant.

After many years of this, Doran came back to Moonglade to stay, for a bit. Now he began teaching Stergen in earnest. They spent longer and longer times in the deep forest, and often visited the neighboring Axewood. Occasionally, Doran took Stergen to the dangerous Dreadwood to the south and Suss Forest to the east.

Elves are meticulous and deliberate in their ways, and Doran was no exception. But, while Stergen shared half his heritage with the elves, he was also part human. In 1186 C.Y. (3684 E.R.), after nearly twenty years, the human side of him firmly took hold and he decided to go off on his own.

Doran told him he was ready, but reminded him that he was still young and had much to learn. His uncle cautioned him to be ready to learn new lessons every day.

That night, Stergen said goodbye to his mother. There were many tears, but most of them were Múrien’s. Stergen had long ago buried his emotions and it was difficult for him to express them to his mother. He found the company of elves distasteful, feeling them arrogant and superiorminded. But he couldn’t fully explain it to his mother, who was not half-elven, after all. In the end, they embraced and a single tear managed its way from Stergen’s watery eyes.

The next day, Stergen set out. He planned to go to the Suss Forest, the long woodlands bordering Celene and the Wild Coast and, more importantly, the Pomarj. He felt certain that, between the brigands to the east and the humanoids to the south, he would have much there to keep him busy and away from people.

Stergen went west, through the Principality of Ulek. As he cleared the hills that ran down the spine of that country and entered into the plains, he spotted a lone man fighting three orcs. Moved by his conditioning more than anything, the young ranger charged to the man’s aid.

Stergen swiftly dispatched the orcs and then turned to tend to their opponent. Stergen discovered it wasn’t a man at all. Rather, it was a boy, no more than fourteen. The boy had several nicks and cuts all over him and a nasty gash in his ribs, where an orc hit him with an ax. The boy was clothed in buckskins and his sun-bronzed skin was painted with some sort of pigment. He had a feather worked into a long, thin braid hanging from the left temple of his raven hair. As Stergen approached him, the boy raised a flint knife in defense.

Stergen, caught between bemusement and concern, asked the boy if he was all right. The boy shook his head and spoke haltingly. He seemed to speak the Common Tongue, but with difficulty. Eventually, the boy realized Stergen wasn’t going to attack him and, so, let his fatigue and wounds overtake him. Stergen caught him as he fell.

The young ranger set up camp. He made a small fire and tended the boy’s wounds. Then he cleared away the orc corpses and returned to watch over his young charge. All through the night and well into the following day, Stergen kept vigil over the boy.

As time passed, Stergen and his guest became acquainted. Apparently, the boy’s name was Ránu Káhua (North Wind, in the Common Tongue). He was the son of the shaman of a tribe of Jewel Plainsmen. They called themselves the Hakua Nat’uan, the Breeze People. Ránu Káhua insisted that Stergen accompany him back to his settlement. For the sake of moving again, Stergen agreed. He figured he would drop the boy off, pay his respects to any tribe elders, and be off. He was wrong.

They walked for about a day, when they met a search party from the tribe. When North Wind hadn’t returned from his hunt, the tribe got worried and sent some people to find him. When they met Stergen, they were friendly, if cautious. They reiterated Ránu Káhua’s invitation, so Stergen followed them to their temporary village.

The tribesmen welcomed Stergen as an honored guest, for saving the shaman’s son. The shaman, Kha’ Kuán (Great Cloud), insisted that the ranger sit on his right at the evening fire. Stergen was overwhelmed by the welcoming attitude of these people. When the chief, Kua Káhuna (Storm Cloud) learned that Stergen was wandering, he extended an invitation for the ranger to stay with the tribe. The half-elf’s curiosity got the better of him and he accepted the invitation. He planned to stay for a couple of days, to get to know the people better and to try to understand more about their culture.

As the time passed, however, and as Stergen became better friends with many of the tribesmen, he realized that he could not learn what he hoped in just a few days. One night, a band of humanoids attacked the settlement. Stergen fought at the forefront, along with the tribe’s best warrior, Íma Nátu’un (Thunderbolt). The tribe successfully repelled the attack and Íma Nátu’un declared Stergen a blood brother. Stergen happily accepted and he exchanged blood with Thunderbolt in the tribe’s customary ritual.

At the same time, it was proclaimed that Stergen would receive a name. Sensing Stergen’s long uneasiness, Kha’ Kuán named him Kánu Ma’atu, which means “Bird in Flight.” The Shaman told Stergen that one day, Stergen’s wings would be strong enough to carry him on his life’s hunt. But, until that time, he hoped Stergen would remain with the tribe.

Stergen stayed with the Hakua Nat’uan for five years. In that time, he became a valued member of the tribe. He taught them many things, but he learned much more. He adopted many of their ways as his own, including braiding his hair and dressing it with eagle feathers. He honed his tracking, hunting, and plains survival skills. But, most importantly, he learned social acceptance. Great Cloud even claimed him as a foster son.

But, even among the Breeze People, Stergen was not completely at peace. And so it was that, on a gray day in 1191 C.Y. (3685 E.R.), Great Cloud summoned his foster son to his tent. As Stergen entered, he sensed with foreboding that it would be for the last time. Kha’ Kuán sat cross-legged beside a small fire in the center of his floorless tent. He gestured for Stergen to do the same. Both men sat still for a long while. When Kha’ Kuán finally spoke, his quiet, steady voice thundered across the silence.

“Kánu Ma’atu, you have been with us for five times twelve moons. You have fought for us, bled for us, and stood watch for us. You have led hunts, shared our food and fire. You are friend, and welcome. I call you brother and son. But now, you must leave.”

Stergen stopped himself from saying something. The words caught in his throat, anyway. But he looked across at the leathery, careworn face.

Great Cloud continued, “The wind changes around you and whispers your name across the okura. It is time for you to take wing and find your way on the Winds of Fate.”

The next day, sad but strangely hopeful, Stergen set out with a heavy heart, away from his first taste of acceptance and toward uncertainty and his Destiny.

Personality

The major events and journals in Stergenallen Von's history, from the beginning to today.

The list of amazing people following the adventures of Stergenallen Von.