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#9433046 Apr 26, 2014 at 05:08 PM
1197 Posts

The following is an error-laced translation I did of a biographical story posted to the old ArcheAge-KR website. As there may be changes and errors abounds, this is not to be considered "canon," but should provide you with some insight to the story of ArcheAge.

At the peak of a mountain sat an aged old tower, with writ scribed above the gate that read "Hirama." This mountain was a sacred place. It belonged to no nation or kingdom, and was an old, abandoned, and forgotten place that was venerated. The name of this place was Hiramakand, and the people who lived there were called Hirama. The Hirama were of a large, strong build, and their lifespans were said to surpass 200 years. A boy was born in to this world to keep safe this sacred place, and to proudly serve as one of several warrior priests. Here, the High Priest was as influential as a King.

The eldest of six brothers and sisters was called Inoch. His father and uncle were sons of the former High Priest, and his uncle inherited the role. His father and uncle were among nine siblings themselves, and so, for Inoch's entire childhood, he was surrounded by cousins. Inoch, like his father, was of a pious, devout character, with a passion for scriptures. At the age of fifteen he was given rank within the sacred tower, as his future was already certain.

Inoch accompanied his father everywhere he went. Among adults, Inoch's father often sought after his son's answers before deciding on matters of importance. Through the years, Inoch continued to live up to his father's expectations, and his love for his father was strong. His grandparents, mother, sisters, brothers, uncles, and cousins all trusted in his ability to lead. So, his family saw it fit to protect Inoch.

Until one day, something strange from within him sprouted forth.
At first, it was merely a rumor or suspicion. That is, until his clothes stopped fitting correctly.

Some were concerned he was becoming a hunchback. Inoch himself was also worried, and his mother assisted him, wrapping layer upon layer of cloth around the growth to keep it hidden.

One night, his father spotted loose cloth around his chest. Days later, there was a strange white fuzz sprouting from the growth. These were wings.

No one in the entire kingdom had ever heard of such a thing happening. Was this a sign? If so, was it an ill omen? Curious as to the answer, the priesthood called a meeting. Inoch’s and his new physical ailment were recounted to them. His mother had lost countless nights of sleep. His uncle suggested that if he was doomed to this state, that he go into recluse. Even his grandfather thought that best. If it was an ill omen, there was no other choice.

Inoch’s father proudly and defiantly argued that Inoch was virtually promised a bright future. Would they have him lock his son away in a cottage? Until he died? Would that not be a miserable life, to live like a prisoner? Every moment his wings were growing. The more they grew, the less likely it was that they could be hidden. Finally, the meeting was commenced and the priests went to see Inoch. The meaning of the emergence of his wings was unclear. He preached from traditional inscriptions to the priests who went to see him. It was clear he was chosen.

The priests posited that on that day, a prophetic sign was delivered to them. For three days, priests prayed beneath the sacred tree, and Inoch's face appeared to them. The prophecy was a ominous one.

“The last day of Hirama,
The winged one will shut the gate.”
Did that mean Inoch would destroy the temple and their people? The priests were greatly shaken. More than anyone, Inoch was shaken. Did they really believe that he could or would destroy them? His father took him aside and asked him why he was chosen, and if it was true he would destroy them. He turned his head tearfully and said nothing more. Inoch was later locked in a room, alone. He was told that visitors were allowed, but no one came to him. All night long, he knocked on the door and cried, his sobs echoing throughout the tower. Angry, he tried to tear off his wings to no avail.

By dawn, the boy was exhausted, surrounded by innumerable feathers that he tore from his own wings. Inoch was surprised to awaken to the sound of someone’s voice. Neither his father, mother, or cousins came, but Dahlia, his sister, did.

"It's a death sentence. You’ll be hanged. Let’s get out of here."

Inoch shook his head in disbelief. “What about father?”

"Did you look for uncle? Someone came up with the prophecy. Was it uncle? If you're trying to protect his name, couldn't you just say so? If you think the prophecy's true, shouldn’t you have done something by now? Get up. We don’t have time. The priests are coming."

The prodigal Inoch did not know if Dahlia, merely three or four years older than him, was the reckless sort or not. Dahlia took the dazed Inoch and fled from the temple in to the mountains. They traveled a great distance by foot, but were ill prepared for the trip, subject to cold and starvation. The next day, they found a cave and built a fire, though it felt like they were on foot for several days. On his back, his wings hung hopelessly, and he began to hallucinate. Dahlia watched over him, checking over his vital signs in the light of the fire, and said.

"Can we cut them off?"

If it were that easy, he would have done it already. He had Dahlia's sword, but she lifted a hand to stem his bleeding. That made it all the more difficult for Inoch to swing the blade back and try to hack them off. Both of them struggled, angry, frustrated, and often weeping. Being two children alone in the wilderness, they soon realized that it was a difficult task to go on like this without an adult. When they first fled, they had no regrets, but now they were beginning to have many. Their fate was uncertain. Still, it seemed certain that Inoch would have these horrible wings forever.

Dahlia was the first to doze off, leaving Inoch to sit awake in lonesome thought. His sister had been dragged in to this mess. They would be pursued soon. They had fled in to the mountains and would need to keep going to the neighboring country. It was a very far travel, much easier by horse, but it would be worth the travel as no one outside of the country would recognize him, while some within this country's borders might. Finally, they had a destination. But there would be no way back. This was a one-way trip.

Dahlia awoke the next morning, screaming. There was blood everywhere.

Inoch was unconscious.

One of his wings had been cut off of his back, but the other remained.
Dahlia looked around quickly, fetching her blanket and going to Inoch, who mumbled a weak excuse in to the stone floor, before she removed his shirt and used the blanket to tie off the wound. Mother, please save him. Mother, we want to live, don’t let him die. We are young and foolish, why did this happen to us?

Perhaps it was insane, but with the wound so severe, Dahlia chose to bring Inoch back to the temple. While they cared for Inoch, his death sentence was postponed. At first, his death sentence was set in stone, so no creature like him could exist in the world, but it was cruel to do that to a child. When he recovered, there were arguments that made the situation ambiguous. Opinions among priests were split two ways. It was between death and exile.

Inoch had lost consciousness for several days, but finally recovered. He was barely able to sit up and touch his back. Where his wing was severed, there were healing warts, threatening to sprout a new wing again.

Why did this happen to him? The prophecy said he would destroy the temple, but Inoch didn’t have that in him. Still, he was persecuted. He was strong, but if he had been told to leave and never return, he would have done that. His fate would be determined by the priests, but Inoch who was known to memorize scriptures suddenly spoke this phrase.

"Mother gives us trials and tribulations,
One after another,
To give you purpose."
If that were so, then his wings were a definitive part of his purpose in this world. A burden was lifted from Inoch's troubled mind.

A few days later, news no one could have expected came to him. In the far south, a world traveler claimed that Inoch was not alone with his wings.

In the world’s capital, Delfinad, those who had wings, known as 'Astra' were gathered together in a building. Astras were revered and respected, despite their relative poverty, as much as the royal family. From around the world, they gathered children who had wings to live among one another. Astra children could appear among any species, in any location. The priesthood had been inconclusive in their discussions about what to do with Inoch, until that news, and they sent him to Delfinad.

Suddenly knowing he would be going independently, Inoch felt like an adult, rather than the ten year old he'd felt like. He would leave, but Dahlia would remain. Inoch smiled to her.

"I feel this is Mother’s will."
He said, gaze snapping back to his wings.
"In my wings."

Inoch believed Dahlia would find him again someday, as "you saved me, thus, in you I will always have a sister." Dahlia watched as the newborn traveler Inoch took the reigns of the donkey he would use to reach Delfinad. His ridiculous looking single wing cast a long shadow to one side.
Standing high up on a hill, Inoch looked to the donkey. His shadow had vanished, and he stretched out his arms, saying to the land before him.

"My son. I will wait for the day you are born and fulfill the prophecy."
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