Maylan (prime)

Maylan with her beloved Chinchilla, by Stormyrain's player

Maylan, by Abrimel's player

DISCLAIMER: Some modern terminology is used here in an effort to provide context and understanding for Maylan's character. Any such terminology should be considered OOC.

Land Pirate Maylan, the Wench is an Aelotoi Master Healer of the Mrae'ni clan. Having no knowledge of her parents or lineage, she has chosen not to adopt a surname. She is a current citizen of Wehnimer's Landing, and resides in a small cottage along the Coastal Cliffs. Maylan is a frequent visitor to Icemule Trace, and sleeps in the White Haven library when she is in town.

Appearance

Maylan is of a slight height and has a thin, wiry frame. She appears to be in the spring of life. She has completely solid, vivid jade eyes and mocha-freckled, lightly tanned skin. She has raggedly cut, frizzy raven-sheened hair carelessly piled into a stiff leather tricorne with loosened strands wisping around her face. She has a narrow face, a gently sloped nose and a pointed chin. She has a small gap between her front teeth. She has a pair of stunted, dark-veined pearly wings speckled with jade splotches.

Background

Maylan was born on the 21st day of Koaratos in the year 5082 as a slave in a kiramon mining camp. During this time she studied the healing arts under her dymerano, a kindly grandfather-figure and teacher. Maylan was liberated at age 20 during the mass exodus through the rift that appeared near Ta'Illistim. After liberation she spent some time travelling across Elanthia before settling in Wehnimer's Landing, where she currently resides.

Maylan has no memory of her parents, nor any knowledge of any surviving family members. She was raised by her dymerano, who died when she was twelve years old. Maylan is currently in a loveless marriage with Grypto, an elderly half-krolvin of unknown origins. Her dearest friend is an obese drunken chinchilla, who follows her everywhere.

Maylan suffers from severe PTSD, and as a result experiences recurring nightmares which have driven her to chronic alcohol abuse. Despite her bleak upbringing and substance abuse issues, Maylan is known for her quirky and goofy personality. Whether her quirks are the result of a neurological issue caused by her trauma, or simply a deep-seeded defense mechanism, is largely unknown.

Primary Field of Study

The primary humors (blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm) are a source of immense power. Maylan weaves the power of the humors together or separately in a delicate dance that forms her healing magic. This power can be directed to repair and heal flesh, or it can be reversed to break and sunder a corporeal form. Maylan feels in her element when dealing with blood and gore, and has a general fascination with anatomy. While this may sound gruesome, she prefers to hone her magic for healing purposes while utilizing its destructive powers only in self-defense and combat scenarios.

Maylan believes that blood is the most powerful of the humors. However, she is wildly inept in her attempts to wield blood magic in isolation from the other corporeal elements. Her attempts to harness this power for divination or other purposes will not be met with any successful outcome, although she may attempt to claim otherwise.

Further information on her healing craft can be found in Maylan's essay, A Study of the Corporeal Elements.

Spiritual Beliefs

While Maylan understands that the Arkati hold great power, she views them as similar to any of the spirits who aide her in her spirit magic. She finds the idea of devotion or worship towards the Arkati amusing, and would never debase herself in such a manner. Indeed her Voln powers are viewed as simply another spiritual spell circle in her mind.

Maylan believes in a higher cosmic power, where the stars and celestial entities form a sort of collective unconscious that governs the laws of nature.

Affiliations

• Former Lightweaver of House White Haven of Icemule Trace, current member

• Member of the Hand of the Arkati

• Self-proclaimed Land Pirate

• Formerly employed as a mop girl in Goblyn's Pie Shop

Pegleg Collection

Despite her extensive healing knowledge, Maylan's physical form continues to be manifest with a missing leg. It is possible that this is a psychosomatic response to her early trauma, but the exact cause is unknown.

• a discolored mop-fringed pegleg for a leg: Cracked and discolored, the faded blonde wooden pegleg bears a suspicious resemblance to the hacked-off business end of a ratty old mop. A thick, tangled fringe of sodden, grey-brown cotton splays out from its splintered tip like a dejected anemone and leaves a smear of filth wherever it goes.

• a golden candlestick pegleg: This masterfully-carved wooden candlestick appears as though it could have been pilfered directly from a banquet hall. The fine-grained mahogany has been painstakingly painted with gleaming gold leaf. A lumbering polar bear has been intricately etched into the gentle curves of the candlestick, which is contrasted by a multitude of streaming blue silk ribbons that dance merrily with every step.

• a silver-tipped mahogancy pegleg

• a dirt-caked rotted willow pegleg

Notable Activities

• In 5119 Maylan ran a disastrous Mayoral Campaign for Wehnimer's Landing. The campaign ended in her forced resignation after several failed attempts to burn down Moot Hall, and one successful attempt to burn down Goblyn's Pie Shop.

• In 5118, Goblyn requested Maylan's help in conducting wing-grafting research. As Maylan believes her wings hold no purpose but to remind her of enslavement, and being a practiced empath who is used to losing limbs, she agreed to let Goblyn slice them off to use as a sample. Much to Maylan's annoyance and chagrin, her wings grew back in their current stunted form.

• Throughout 5116 and 5117, Maylan made several failed assassination attempts on the blue child Rodnay, as she believes him to be a malevolently evil Ithzir who will eventually destroy the town of Wehnimer's Landing. Maylan was pardoned for her crimes by Mayor Cruxophim, possibly due to her otherwise lawful track record and good intentions. As a condition to her pardon, Maylan has agreed to make no more attempts to harm Rodnay.

• Despite her strong fear of and aversion to the mental magics, Maylan has entered the tutelage of Dirra in an effort to learn the mental defensive techniques necessary to protect herself from forces such as and Raznel and Rodnay.

• Maylan has conducted several successful community fundraisers, including a relief fund for Talador and a welfare fund for the residents of Shanty Town during the war with Chaston's forces. She is currently engaged in efforts to build a Community Garden in the Shanty Town district, and to construct an underground bunker for residents of Wehnimer's Landing.

• Maylan is a purveyor of merrymaking, and hosts regular community events on behalf of White Haven such as: the Annual Fisticuffs Tournament, Drunken Icecapades, the Polar Plunge, and the Eve of the Reunion Tour.

• Maylan has the very odd habit of dragging discarded junk from the Town Square Center of Wehnimer's Landing to the town's well. It is seemingly a somewhat obsessive habit, though she claims it is simply "her collection".

• Maylan served as the Shanty Town Advisor to Mayor Cruxophim of Wehnimer's Landing in 5117.

Maylan's Recurring Nightmares

WARNING: CONTAINS GRAPHIC CONTENT

I find myself in a circular corridor. The walls are decorated with mounted steed heads. Their eyes follow me as I walk. I continue on for some time until I find a door. I open the door to see a stairwell, descending down into darkness. I smell sulfur and I feel sick. I dread what lies at the bottom. I close the door and continue on, in the same looping corridor as before. I feel the space gradually tighten. The air is heavier, and the space feels smaller. The steed heads now display exposed shoulders and chests. I arrive at the same door as before, but I do not enter. I continue along in this loop as the space grows smaller, and the steeds grow more prominent. On and on I push forward. Eventually I am forced to crawl. The horse carcasses are no longer mounted, simply strewn about. I crawl over exposed bellies, heads, arms, until I reach the same door. The door is so tiny now that I open it with pinched fingers and peer through it, my eyeball pressed to the door-frame. I see darkness, sense heat, feel dread. On and on I crawl as the space gradually closes in on me and the carcasses consume me. A never-ending loop of terror.

I reach into my mouth and grasp a worm. I begin pulling, its milky white body glides up and out of my throat. Finally the long form emerges and I frantically toss it away. I feel maggots in my gut, and I wonder briefly if my meat is rotten. The worm is behind me and I don't want to look. I turn anyway. Its mouth end gapes and pulses, hungry to return. I abide it.