Yagaan Malaguld
| Yagaan Malaguld | |
 "You better not be afraid of needles." | |
| Gender | Female |
| Race | Au Ra |
| Clan | Xaela |
| Citizenship | Unaffiliated |
| Server | Balmung |
| Age | 18 |
| Marital Status | Single |
| Occupation | Medicine Woman |
| Height/Weight | 55 Ilm/103 Ponze |
Stubbornly asocial and hellsbent on study, Yagaan is one of the many Malaguld tribe to make their way to Eorzea trying to find a place for herself. She (at least tries to) keeps an air of maturity around herself, stemming from years of work as the clan's medicine woman - being bedside to many dying, dead, suffering, and battle-hewn does that, after all. Her facial features, voice, and height betray her true age, however, as well as her lack of experience in most anything other than medicine/animal dressing. Her clansmen know her to be notoriously grumpy and dangerously curious - a combination that she quickly bounces between.
Contents
Basic Info
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Appearance
- With hair in a chronic mess and a listlessly sleepless look from her, Yagaan is but a wisp of a girl - thin, wiry, and tiny - the only exception being a pair of strong, long legs. Her hands are small, and fingers thin and delicate. Her scales, rich navy like most Xaela, cover her body a little more along her sides and hips than average, and her tail is thin and long with an almost spade-tail tip. Her horns are thick and curl in a manner to protect her face, tipped in mossy green pigment - the scales there slightly thinner than normal. When flustered, the tips flush with blood much like one could imagine a hyur's ears to.
Her face can best be described as a "chronic pout-face", as her default expression is usually that of mild displeasure. Saturated red pigment lines her sharp eyes, as make up she uses to hide the fact she ends up with little sleep due to constant library binges - with her iris being a pale green outlined with bright gold limbal rings. Flaxen hair frames her scale-lined face, sticking up anywhere it might be short, and a pair of sidetails starting underneath her horns.
She seems to favor luxurious/cute clothing of expensive material and Eorzean fashion, with anything very frilly/lacy being her favorites. It's also common to find her wearing various bits and baubles upon her wrists and horns, though never rings - as she keeps scars hidden with gloves.
Her repertoire of scars is a small one, for being a non-warrior au ra. The palms and fingers of her hands are covered in them, with the tops of her hands covered in what look to be lashmarks. Her right horn bares a scar, now, too, among the scales - though it may fade eventually. Less likely to be seen are a scar at her right hip, and another at her left thigh. As to be expected, she keeps all of these hidden - gloves for her hands, a ribbon for her horn, and clothing for the others.
Personality
In a word, Yagaan can be describe as "Temperance" - despite her sometimes rather terrible social gaffs, she excels at keeping people (and herself) calm in many situations; be they far too excited to stand still, too angry for reason, or too sorrowful to stand. Most of her social experience, after all, comes from tending to people within the medicine tent of the Malaguld; with ailments varying from simple scrapes to shock and hallucination plaguing the tribe, keeping someone from reacting while trying to help them recover can sometimes be a difference between life and death. The lass also holds the ability to conjure up sympathy and happy lies -- another holdover, from time of comforting the dying.
Beyond that, however, even Yagaan doesn't fully understand. As lacking in genuine socialization as she is, she tries her damnedest to try to fit into situations and conversations with people (or topics) that interest her. Favoring reason and logic over sentiment, however, she can fall short in the sympathy department during genuine conversations -- using her blunt worldview of one who has, indeed, had to see a lot of death -- and be a hand for it. It's not something that has totally ruined her inside (as she can attest, quite calmly), but the cool ease she speaks of various morbid topics and desires can catch one off guard. The biggest problem of all is that she still has yet to grasp her personality, despite acting as the mature woman she wants to be - leading to her very often being flustered or insecure (especially when comparing her traditional methods to those involving aether!). She is also quick to try to prove herself wise and intelligent, spouting (sometimes relevant) bits of wisdom and trying to use the various new/"complicated" words of Eorzean she picks up. Yagaan also shows a great deal of skepticism over supernatural things -- after all, coming from a land with much less aether makes the fact people can bend reality to will meteors about sound like faerie-tales. On the positive side, she thinks herself clever, and has done enough acts she considers as such to remain confident in that assessment.
However, even temperance can fly out of the window when something piques her curiosity, or someone threatens harm on her or her kin.
Around close friends, a different side of her shows -- she becomes somewhat more open and talkative (though still darkly humorous and not entirely ready to smile), and doesn't abhor physical contact, being open to gestures such as hugs and closeness. It is a product of a bygone age of clan companionship that she never much got to experience.
She somehow becomes more expressive beneath a helm or a mask, claiming that, under them, she is only a Xaela and not "Yagaan" - a bit of a strange quirk of hers.
On the deeper spectrum of things, her manifestation as a Dark Knight has brought many more negative emotions to the surface - jealousy, bitterness, anger, and the like. Even if she does her best to keep them buried, she still might slip up and let them loose.
Biography
Childhood
- An average child by most Xaela means, Yagaan's early childhood was mostly uneventful. Her parents had their roles in the tribe - Khurel, her father, was a herbalist, whilst her mother Maalingyn was one of the tribe's spearmen. Hotaru, her paternal grandmother, was a long-lived 'silverscale' (half-Raen, half-Xaela) and one of their most esteemed of healers. Their family was a small one that was on good terms with the rest of the tribe - though many a Malaguld, be they elder or youth, shudder at the thought of having to enter Hotaru's tent, lest they get her lecture and glare - and even more thought it was better than the old hag beating them into submission with her cane.
She was a friendly child, close to many of the others around her age - particularly close to dreamy Hariko and scrapper Temujin, as well as his younger brother.
Like many things, however, it wasn't meant to last. At five summers, a rather peculiar illness overtook a few of the tribe's younglings. Her father and a few others volunteered to seek the cure - a rare herb that, unfortunately, grew in territories known to be contested over. Knowing the risks, they undertook the quest.
Unfortunately, that was also the last they saw of the men and women who went to scout alive. Less than a month later (as the tribe moved as they often did, knowing the scouts would know of their location) the well younglings were out playing as they often did on the trails, when a fell wind crossed the air. While this deterred a few of them, Yagaan (younger and eager to prove herself brave) followed those who so dared to investigate the thicket.
It was there she made eye to eye(less) contact with the decaying corpse of her father and the others.
It was the screaming of them, the terror of the others, and the smell that brought the adults to the sight; Maalingyn simply shut down at the mention of it, not having the will to investigate -- whilst Hotaru moaned in agony and horror, of the state of her beloved only son. For Yagaan, it was the last she had time to play so often with her friends, as her grandmother took to her tent as a young apprentice - with little argument from her mother, as it meant the girl would never possibly be killed like her husband.
Compared to many of her kin, where she should have been a youth figuring out what place she has in the tribe and how to suit it, instead had her fate laid before her -- after all, the years of training that ensued left her with little time to practice (or enjoy) other pursuits, or spend meaningful time with her fellow Malaguld. Instead, Yagaan had been sternly trained -- the switch scars on her hand a testament to the methods her grandmother employed in "tempering the steel of the clan's future". Though the memories of days past were fond, she resented her situation as she grew older.
Teenage
- Her mother's "condition" hardly improved -- Maalingyn a listless shell of her old, stern self, taking it upon herself to handle all dangerous work the clan needed should they allow her to oversee them. The only contact the two had was her occasional visit to the medical tent -- with either Hotaru or Yagaan the one to clean up whatever mess she might have gotten herself into. It was a visit that brought a heavy silence over the tent, and would not fade for the next few bells.
One day changed that.
"It was the Dotharl," she said, blankly. "The Dotharl killed him."
This kindled a fire in the young lass - one she buried in stone and calm that she needed to keep to do her job right, and needed detachment to not lose anyone again, despite her heart still open to her friends when (more like if) she had time to spend with them. It was, indeed, through the tent she came to bond with Temujin and his brother, both getting hurt much too often for youths. Life continued on, however, and she grew resentful. Compared to the others, she did not get to enjoy her youth as a time of parental (and tribal) solace as her peers did, her nose to the grindstone thanks to her grandmother trying to teach her all she could know - saying at least this "worthless child might be a worthy successor".
It was the only thing she could really aspire to, and, should she fail, the girl felt herself worthless in the eyes of the tribe.
Indeed she had many times to test herself and her abilities - the tribe had many injuries, and many incidents -- all of which she learned to steel herself to deal with, and keep others calm.
The heaviest test of her abilities came when the Calamity occurred - though Othard was unaffected for the most part (barring the wildlife being evermore treacherous), it was a time of turmoil. Some Dalamiq had gone mad, hunting in a depraved effort to sacrifice others to bring back their god; The Dotharl, meanwhile, capitalized on this. The ensuing bloodshed decimated both sides of the conflict.
Amidst it all, Yagaan had to care for those who were brought back fervently. Looking through the leathers that covered it, however, she saw something she'd never seen in person - the colors of the Dotharl. One of their warriors had wandered into the camp, amidst the culling, taking his time to terrorize as he saw fit. To her horror, the dastard noticed her and moved in. Hiding behind the divider that split the tent, the tiny lass quickly began to weigh her options, the hushed giggling of the murderous fiend filling the tent. Low, hushed gasps escaped her injured tribesmates as some hid themselves and their children - others struggled to ready their weapons. She, meanwhile, hurriedly picked out something - a solution of acid, usually used for cleaning their metals. Her scalpels and knives. Formulating a plan, she waited with bated breath.
Her body seized up as the Dotharl began to laugh and make threats, tugging about wee babes and joking of how he'd ruin the tribe. Make them bear something... terrible.
This flipped a switch in her.
How dare he.
The thought raged through her mind as she threw the solution into his eyes and dove onto him, blade ready.
It was finally Jin who brought her back, her mind a blur at the time. She ignored the scolding of her grandmother of her ruining and dulling the blades - shock making her unable to process it. Instead, her focus was to her hands - cut open to the bone in some areas from glass and pottery that she grabbed, viscera deep in her nails and scales. It was the first time in years that she let them shake -- but only for so long before she wrapped them up.
In the aftermath of the fight, it was obvious tragedy had struck many of the tribe - the battle taking the lives of Jin's younger brother and many, many others. Maalingyn had disappeared without a trace - only her naginata remaining. Little loss was felt in the girl's heart as she took the weapon, nursing a hatred for the other tribe, even making a point of practicing with it during nights.
The summers after it were mostly uneventful - barring Hariko, then Jin leaving the tribe under their own circumstances.
Yagaan remained.
After all, she was to serve the tribe, to be what her grandmother said she would be - to pay back how indebted she was for taking care of the girl for so long.
Everything would be better, right?
. . .
Everything would be better if she was just dead.
The name rang out through the tribe, thunderous applause and cheers filing them. It wasn't hers.
Another Xaela had been chosen to take up the mantle.
Yagaan had little reaction other than shock on the outside. Inside, something within her stirred and cracked. Defying her usual, disciplined ways, she tried to subtly ask - a whisper, a gesture, a grimace, a plead. What came in return was yelling, curses -- how dare the girl speak against her choice. It was humiliating, her grandmother ridiculing her aloud in front of the tribe.
Present
- Having left Othard under odd circumstances (the only constant part she says is that she was not chosen as the successor to her grandmother, as well as her only friends having left), Yagaan has lived a rushed life in Eorzea of going from job to job and city to city trying to find work in a land dominated by conjury and other healing arts. People pay little (or feel fit to pay nothing) if someone else can just flick their wrist and fix a wound far faster, and with less fuss. Desperate, she ended up as a maid and barkeep within Anemos Company - finding her talents hardly necessary, even then.
With how bitter it made her, combined with the emotions lidded so deep within her from Othard, it was hardly a surprise she could be able to manifest the powers of Darkness. She has sworn to follow Jin to the ends of the earth with their mutual "burden", thanks to the two being one another's confidant down the path.
Finding herself full of ambition after her first successful wielding of the power, she has decided to cut ties with her company to try to attain enough money to become a chirurgeon - albeit without the funds to do so, and has been peddling various medicines/drugs in Ul'dah's shady alleys.
But there seems a different reason, what with some Xaela looking for her...
Combat
Miscellaneous
- ■ Yagaan enjoys peppering her speech to almost excess with large words and whatnot, to show her mastery of Eorzean tongue. She also likes to make jokes, seeing wordplay and comedy as the pinnacle of understanding the language. She often pauses between the start of her sentences as a result, carefully calculating her words - and will become very flustered if someone makes her realize her mistake.
- ■ Her most common response to being asked her opinion on an animal is usually "Is it edible?" / "I wonder how it tastes."
- ■ Having shown no potential and devotion in conjury, Yagaan has started to dabble into Arcany with... mild results. Namely of all, she can cast a few physicks without fainting.
- ■ She is something of a neat freak, coming from learning of the Eorzean concept of "sanitation" and rather used to having to keep things in order so she might find the right poultice at the right time.
- ■ The scars on the back and her hands, tarnishing her scales in some areas, are obviously from a switch.
- ■ She counts in sets of nine, of all numbers to count at.
Some of these rumors are untrue or are greatly exaggerated. Please feel free to add your own rumors under PC! ◢ Common Rumors (Easily overheard)
◢ Moderate Rumors (Moderately difficult to overhear)
◢ Rare Rumors (Very difficult or rarely overheard)
◢ PC Rumors (Rumors from the character's of other players)
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Gallery
Yagaan in her robes
She doesn't display much emotion.
