Crimson Elm

House Dzemael Files: LXXVIII

The following is a documentation taken by a member of House Dzemael, shortly after the (brief) detainment of known sky pirate, looter, and terrorist, Crimson Elm.

Basic Information ■ Gender : Female ■ Race: Hellsguard Rodegyn ■ Citizenship : Limsa Lominsa / Camp Cloudtop ■ Age : Undetermined. ■ Alignment: Chaotic Good ■ Vice(s): Good Wine, Challenges, and Delicious Food ■ Favorite Food: Loaghtan Steak ■ Favorite Drink: Chilled Red ■ Favorite Color: Red ♦ Server: Balmung Notorious Sky Pirate, Scholar, Explorer, and Terrorist, Crimson Elm Personality and Appearance Even among her own race, Crimson towers at a whopping 167 ilms tall, her height attributed to her father (Grey Mountain) who clocked in at an incredible 201. Her dark, caramel skin has been modified through decades of being out in the sunlight, whether growing up in the villages of the northern Hellsguard, or out exploring the vast wilds of Eorzia. Her hair (a gift from her mother, Sunlit Shadow,) has been cut into a short bob, though it has been rumored that she once had the most beautiful red locks north of the Black Shroud. A feature of note is her right eye, which has been scared and damaged as a result of a conflict between herself and a rival Sky Pirate during her early days at the trade. Crimson sports a gem in the middle of her forehead (a common trait amongst the religious Hellsguard, who often don it as an expression of warding away evil,) and a long tattoo across the bridge of her nose, moving across both of her cheeks. Despite her slight disfiguration, Elm is a rather beautiful specimen of her species, however she posesses a "resting bitch face" that constantly makes her look as though she's in a foul mood. With the addition of her rarely ever smiling, people generally assume she's always in a bad way. She is a woman who takes random items from her adventures, often adding them to her attire as a bizarre manner of trophy; most notably are the red gem shards on her sleeves (previously the property of the Aether used to battle Ifrit), the fangs and various beads donning her signature bandanna (from assorted kills out in the Diadem), and a choker from House Fortemps (stripped from a former supporter of the Archbishop.) Elm is never seen without her flagon of fine ale, or her aether compass, despite the latter no longer functioning properly. Her taste in clothing is often simple and situation-appropriate--while she does have a love for fancy things in her lifestyle--Crimson feels anything too flamboyant attracts unwanted attention and could even get people into trouble. Tough. That is a word that resonates in the very core of what Crimson is. Mentally, Magically, and Morally, Elm embodies strength. Her persona is devoid of nonsense, keeping things to a strict sense of seriousness for the most part. She doesn't tolerate sloppiness of any sort, pushing those she works with and trains to levels some would consider extreme, and chastising failure in any form. With a tongue as sharp as Garlean Steel, Crimson is quick to tell people precisely what she's thinking, when she's thinking it. Stubborn and tenacious to a fault, the woman will do whatever it takes in order to accomplish the things that she wants, and will stoop to whatever means in order to do it. So long as she keeps her honor and gets her way, in her eyes, everything is fair game. Her exterior is not too unlike a frozen flame: cold at a distance, and passionately burning closer up. The newest member of the Artifice of Reason is quick to cover her emotions, goals, and weaknessses...but give her a means to spark her instant anger, and she becomes a boiling pot of cursing, cutting, and crazed rage. Easily infuriated by the stupidly brash, morally unjust, and careless, many people see Crimson as a hard-ass, incapable of showing emotion beyond scowling and being generally cross. However, she is actually rather sensual, warm, and friendly behind her layers and layers of thick skin. She puts people at their limits to test their abilities, in an attempt to improve themselves. She cares for the safety and well-being of people she meets, but would rather see them fight for their survival, rather than running and hiding. Although she appears to be reluctant to do so, if asked for advice in the matters of combat, the Sky Pirate is always pleased to test their mettle, reforge it, and improve it. Arrogant to a fault, prideful of her knowledge, heritage, and courage, she finds it difficult to admit when she's wrong, if she ever does at all. To her, weakness is something she'd rather hide. Despite the crap-free attitude, cold exterior, and less-than-polite means of communication, the Scholar is good at heart. Although her methods are definitely unorthodox, she means well in what she does, and does legitimately feel for people when they're in some form of trouble. She has a soft spot for kids, though she'd never admit it, and takes silent joy in teaching them...even if she does have to ram information into their skulls from time to time. Crimson would do just about anything to defend the unprotected, unwary, and innocent, to include putting her own life on the line. Fearless to death as her father was fearless to the loss of his hand, the Hellsguard takes life by the horns, and refuses to let go. A fighter until the very end, it could very well come to pass that she does go down swinging... In spite of her demeanor and mannerisms, Crimson Elm is highly intelligent; at a young age she demonstrated an uncanny knack for the arcane arts and was sent from her village to the north to Limsa Lominsa, where she took up tutelage from the finest the Arcanist's Guild had to offer her. She has great experience in the ways of Aether and Magic, with knowledge in survival skills attained only through vigorous amounts of personal experience. While her physical power is lacking from practice, her ability to tap into Aether has become a point of high praise from her allies, and a dangerous mechanic to her foes. Additional Information Strengths: ■ Incredibly Brave ■ Lengthy Combat Experience ■ Willing to sacrifice self for the good of her overall goals ■ Well-seasoned in the workings of various aether types (Black Mage, White Mage, Astrologian, Scholar, and Summoner.) Weaknesses ■ Solitary Hellsguard lifestyle and hardened personality gives little to no understanding of people's emotions, or empathy towards them. ■ Socially numb ■ Pure, unadulterated Alpha Female (Although it is not entirely out of question that she can be charmed into being more docile with drinks, gifts, long-term kindness, or people more alpha than she is.) ■ Painfully blunt -- about as subtle as a Goblin in drag. Additional Notes: Has a heavy Gaelic/Scottish accent to her vernacular, in spite of being so learned, due to years among what many would assume to be common rabble. The personal airship she was bestowed upon becoming a veteran member of the Soaring Salamanders, the Hashmal, is still missing; likely in the hands of the Ishguardians. Her only companions through the years Crimson actually likes include her parrot Shemzai and her ill-tempered Chocobo, Strahl. Both of them bite. Crimson has a terrible, paralyzing fear of Fire. She refuses to practice the form of Black Magic after accidentally setting an Amalj'aa camp ablaze. The screams still remind her soundly that no good ever came from the flames of death and destruction. She uses only Ice Magic if she absolutely must resort to the Black Arts. Biography Childhood Born in the Hellsguard village of Little Big River, Crimson was bestowed her name in the same way most of her people were-- the first two things her parents saw -- Her mother spotted the elm tree out of the window of their humble home. Her father, on the other hand, saw only the blood that came with the price of childbirth. Such was she bestowed her namesake. Little Big River, a town of so few in number, offered very little to anybody but those in love with the forging of metals and smell of the earth; for it was a place prideful and boundless in its minerals and smithies. Crimson's heart, however, belonged somewhere completely different. It was not the ground she stared at each day in her youth, but the skies. Cloudy, raging with storms, and changing, the young Hellsguard looked upwards at birds and beasts with envy as they soared overhead. The place she lived as stagnant. It never moved, still as the stones her people toiled over each and every day. Every touch of wind on her face was only a bitter reminder that she would never be able to fly from this place, and see lands far away from the rock and bitter heat from volcanoes. Soon, Elm's wanderlust became too great for her to bear. On her eighth summer, she begged her mother and father for a chance to leave the village and explore beyond the boarders of their city-state. Crimson's pleas were met only with outrage and disdain. Their people were hard workers by trade, and not starry-eyed wanderers, after all. Neither the two of them would have such an oddity remain in their daughter's head. In a moment of frustration and panic, Crimson released a burst of Aether potent enough to tremor their little home, and end the debate in a brief moment of power. Sunlit Shadow and Grey Mountain were more than aware of what such an event meant; their only child was bound for better things than soil and fire. Teenage Years Not long after the argument with her family, Crimson was sent to Limsa Lominsa by the village elder, in hopes she would return more learned and share her knowledge with their people. However, that would be the very last time that Crimson Elm would ever see her childhood home, or any of her people, ever again. Shortly upon arriving in Limsa, the Rodegyn took up the art of the Arcane, striding through her lessons with surprising ease, and nearly mastering both aspects of the field in little over two years. With her appetite for power only whetted, Crimson traveled to Ul'Da, where she took up the arms of Thaumaturge and began practicing black magic. Unexpectedly, her path to becoming a full Black Mage was interrupted immediately while on a patrol aiding a group of Flame Privates. An Amal'ja village was discovered not far from Little Ala Mhigo, and in an effort to take first blood to the beastmen, the Flames took to assaulting the place. Elm, in a panic upon being besieged, beset Fire magic upon the unfortunate defenders of the village, causing a chain reaction of fiery death in its wake. After this event, the Rodegyn swore to never again use the Black Art, and broke away from the path of the Black Mage at eleven years old. Crimson would then travel to the far northern regions, to the Sharlayan colony residing in the Dravanian Hinterlands, to further her desire to study the nature of Aether and magicks. Studying under the watchful eyes of many esteemed scholars and researchers, the Rodegyn's knowledge of the arcane only became more and more adept with the flow of time. At the age of seventeen however, the colony was let go, and the exodus of the Sharlayan people commenced. Once again, Elm was left to fend on her own, abandoned much as the once-great city had been. Heartbroken, the girl returned back to Limsa Lominsa. Unfortunately, that brief moment of hope that she might become an upstanding mage and praised hero would almost immediately shatter after her mastery trials. By the sheer grace of the gods, Crimson overheard a conversation while seeking out work in the Drowning Wench -- a conversation involving the theft of rare, ancient artifacts kept in the Ishguardian-owned Camp Cloudtop. Curiosity compelled her to seek further information...and THAT was how she ended up accidentally recruiting herself into a band of Sky Pirates. Desperately looking for a healer to aid them in their escapades, the Soaring Salamanders took up the greenhorn adventurer on various manners of troublemaking heists, convincing her all the while that they were being donated to Sharlayan scholars up north. While Crimson hardly cared much for the thrill of the steal, it was the places, history, and creatures she experienced on her journeys that sated her lust for excitement. Ever the lover for exploration, Crimson carefully documented everything she encountered in her tome, which began to fatten with the passing years. The Soaring Salamanders were not to last. Upon capture by a Dzemael raid in the Sea of Clouds, their crew was held captive in the deeper parts of the Vault until judgment could be given to them. Considering them terrorist for their numerous offenses (ranging from noise complaints to literal murder and sabotage,) the entire crew was given the option to repent and surrender their services to Ishguard, or be sentenced to death. Of the one-hundred and twenty-eight members that made up the crew, all but a slim few denied the terms, including Crimson herself. Fortunately, salvation came in the form of a raid upon the sanctum by a certain Warrior of Light and company, in which Crimson was able to orchestrate her escape. Convinced her former family was long lost, Elm returned to Limsa Lominsa, broken and defeated. Present And it was upon entering Limsa that she encountered an odd fellow in her old watering hole within the Drowning Wench -- an Elezen man named Erimmont Chevalier -- who aided a group of scholars, scientists, alchemists, and knowledge...seekers. With nowhere else to turn, Crimson Elm joined the ranks of the Artifice of Reason, if not for the hopes of using her skills to aid others...but to find a new thrill and a new love for her soul to take wing upon as she had when the skies were hers to sail, and the spoils were hers to take. Miscellaneous RUMORS Some of these rumors are untrue or are greatly exaggerated. Please feel free to add your own rumors under PC! ◢ Common Rumors (Easily overheard) ■ "Thal's balls, is that a Sky Pirate?" -- Yellowjacket Ryssfloh ■ "D'ya see that lass there? Fond of the drink, she is. Much too young to be chugging down that much, if you ask me." -- A patron of the Drowning Wench ■ "Look at the size of that book she's got there. It's got to be at least a couple ponze, don't you think?" -- A passerby in Ul'Da ◢ Moderate Rumors (Moderately difficult to overhear) ■ "I know her face. She was a young lass around these parts once. Fantastic Arcanist." -- A fisherman of Limsa ■ "Talented. Shame the girl had to go and run off with bloody pirates." -- A Conjurer in Hawthorne Hut ◢ Rare Rumors (Very difficult or rarely overheard) ■ "I heard there were a bunch of escaped folks with that Vault raid in Ishguard...bandits, pirates, some people even say they were terrorists or somethin' along those lines. Can't help but draw a conclusion, can't you?" -- An Arcanist near Wineport ◢ PC Rumors (Rumors from the character's of other players) Relationships ♥ Romantic Interest    ♥ Platonic Love     ● Good Standing     ● Poor Standing NONE Dislikes "You're going to need more paper mate." ♦ Heat / Humid Environments "Grew up too much in the stuff to be frank." ♦ Rude, Snarky individuals "Give me a godsdamned reason t'break your face. Really. Don't give me the respect I deserve. Y'should be kind t'me lad...'cause I can kill any blightin' fool that aren't." ♦ Selfish individuals "Part o' the reason I went off an' joined up with the Artifice was on account of no-good bastards going about taking thing that coulda been used t'help folks an' selling the shite, 'specially to the thrice-damned Garleans. As if they need the bloody help." ♦ Overly-Controlling persons "Ye gods, I'll do what I damn well want. Don't make the mistake o' gettin' in my way neither." Likes ♠ Combat "Y'know my type already then, dontcha? Isn't nothin' in this world better than an ol' fashioned brawl to settle things. Say what y'want. I'll fight until the very end." ♠ Ignorance / General Stupidity "Da always had a way with words. He told me once when I was a wee lass that a fellow without a mind might 's well dig himself a hole to get buried in. You do something stupid in a fight, and y' could lose an arm...Y'do something stupid in life, and y'might just lose the whole bloody pot." ♠ Honor "Aren't a soul on this planet worth their salt if they've got no morals t'speak of. You do right by others, 'an you'll get all that's worth it." ♠ Rowdy Parties "Do y'know what's better than bashin' in the heads o' some ass that's gone and done someone a wrong 'r two? The feast that ought n' come afterwards! Say what y'want about the flimmy-flammy soireés they've got in places like Gridania n' Ul'Dah...there's not a place that throws a better rally-up than takin' a pint at the Wench and a supper down at the Bismark. I've seen m'fair share o' good ones in other places...but Limsa's got m'heart." Shoutouts to Bancfort_Gairn for letting me ruin his template with my anti-knowledge of HTML.