Darrel Stavalos's page

The Stavalos family has been Taldan for almost as long as there has been a Taldor; they have, by and large lived, toiled and died without being particularly remarked upon or doing anything noteworthy – something they have in common with the vast cohort of Taldan citizens. They have tended towards military service on the grounds that it’s respected, it pays well and (for those who survive to claim it) there’s a reasonable pension. There are exceptions of course: Darrel’s father was a barrel-maker, but both his uncle and his younger brother served in the Phalanx.

Darrel’s inclination was also in that direction, but his strong sense of right and wrong meant that the common lures of military life (glory and gold) held no appeal for him. He would protect his beloved Taldor from enemies, and what greater enemy than one not even human – the demons who invaded Sarkoris, and even now tore at the wardstones shielding the rest of Avistan from their horrors?

Somewhat surprisingly, he survived, although when you fight with things from the Abyss they tend also to fight with you. Some of his wounds go deeper then merely torn flesh and spilled blood. Even a decade or more since his return, the Worldwound still plagues his dreams on occasion. One incident that has shaped his life (and continues to shape it) more than he realised at the time was a friendship he struck with a Keleshite priestess named Zadeera. She saved Darrel’s life in a skirmish, healing his wounds, but could not save herself. At her funeral, Darrel spoke from the heart – an unguarded moment – about the life-debt he owed to Zadeera, and her niece (a gangling teenager clearly not comfortable being there) was listening. This niece was the product of a liaison between Zameera’s sister and a Taldan noble; she had Kelesh looks but a Taldan name and manners, but didn’t make much of an impression on the grieving soldier.

It was only recently (many, many years after the fact) that Darrel received a letter from a now full-grown Martella Lotheed, reminding him of the life-debt he had pledged and claiming it for herself. So far, this hasn’t amounted to much more than attending a few meetings with her and some suspicious types, acting as a bodyguard of sorts. These meetings are not entirely lawful, which doesn’t bother him, but he’s not yet sure what her game is. As long as her concern is with justice, then his interests align with hers and he is happy to acknowledge the life-debt.

Darrel’s craggy, scarred face and the iron grey within his hair and beard both testify to his advancing years, while his muscular build and straight posture attest to his military service. Although he is of no more than average height, his broad shoulders and obvious strength give him a physical presence that can make him seem much bigger than he actually is. Even now, in his late forties/early fifties (he stopped counting after his 45th birthday), he is perfectly capable of handstand push-ups, pull-ups and running mile after mile without stopping. Maintaining that level of fitness, however, becomes more and more difficult – however much he may refuse to admit that fact, even to himself.

Beneath that appearance of dumb muscle however is the agile and quick mind of an unorthodox strategist: if people see no more than a common soldier then so much the better, deception is after all at the heart of warfare. Darrel has survived a war against an otherworldly foe, a war in which many who were better-equipped for it in terms of faith and holy gifts nonetheless perished. His ability to read a fight, to spot a foe’s weaknesses and capitalise on them are a large part of why he yet lives.

The other part, of course, which he readily acknowledges, is dumb luck. Although he is not a priest by any means, Darrel deeply respects Cayden Cailean and shares his passion for being good rather than being entirely lawful. Justice is what matters, and if that cannot be achieved within the law then what use is the law to him? Darrel finds it hard, if not impossible, to stand idly by when he could get involved and make a difference, and if the Lucky Drunk occasionally helps out by spilling some of that luck over Darrel then so much the better. He wouldn’t describe himself as a worshipper, but he does periodically swear by, to (and occasionally at) the Accidental God.

Although Darrel grew up with stories of Taldor’s greatness and he is proud of being part of that lineage, that does not blind him to the obvious faults both in his country’s history and its present. His patriotism manifests not so much in a sentiment of “my country, right or wrong” but more about trying to ensure that it is set on the right path.