What we choose to be sacred to us defines a great deal of who we are and who we will be.
After surpassing his father and inheriting the gifts of the sword. He sought to pass it on as well but all his children were female and he loved them way too much to burden them with such a path.
Several trials and happy errors, later on, his fourteenth child turned out to be a boy. He danced, rejoicing, feeling relieved that his father’s dream could be passed on.
He named his child ‘Arba’ and eagerly watched him grow. Luckily for him, his son would run and hide in the bushes to watch him train every morning by the time he was three years old.
Tradition stated that the child needed to be fourteen before he would begin his training but fate was not on their side, as his son clocked four years old, he fell terribly ill. His wife and daughters tried to care for him and keep him in bed but he feared dying without teaching his son what was most important to him so he refused to listen to their pleas and began Arba’s training immediately.
At first, he could stand and show him the moves but with time, he could only describe it to his son as his health continued to deteriorate. Luckily for him, though the disease kept him weak and feeble it failed to completely take the life from him.
By the time Arba was sixteen, he was training in the garden in front of his father’s room where he watched from the window and corrected him if he made any mistakes.
As Arba swung his sword with precision and elegance his father began to cough heavily and his older sisters rushed to his side. Arba watched as they tried their best to help him and finally got fed up.
That night, Arba packed his bag and went on a quest informing only his mother. At the darkest possible moment, he sneaked out to avoid his overprotective father and sisters.
He wasn’t traveling blindly, he had a scroll he had bought from a shrink in the market that told him if he were to find a Raven, he could get a cure for his father.
Hurrying to the location described on the scroll, in an abandoned valley, he finds an old cabin where the supposed Raven was to be.
Knocking softly on the door he waited for a response but there was none. He knocked again and this time, a harsh voice said ‘Come in’.
Pushing the door open, he walked into a man pinning another man with wings into the ground.
“I have a customer,” the man with wings said in a cocky manner. The man seemed to be irritated by this and his fist started burning blue and he tried to punch the man with wings but Arba stepped in slashing the man and he jumped back.
The winged man got up and started to laugh. Arba froze as the man who he had just attacked vanished from his sight then he heard a squishy sound behind him. Turning around slowly with shaky hands on his sword. He sees the man holding the head of the winged man… separated from his body.
“What have you done?” Arba yelled attacking the man who easily fended off his attacks. “How am I supposed to save my father now!??” he yelled angrily while attacking
“Wait, he was not a being you could trust. Calm yourself” the man finally said, stopping Arba from his pointless onslaught.
Arba stopped and put his sword back in its sheath. He could do nothing else so he explained his situation to the man with hopes of still finding some sort of cure, and the man listened.
“I don’t have the ability to help but neither did he,” the man said pointing to the dead Raven’s head. Arba was about to lose all hope when the man added “but you can gain the ability to save your father”
“How!?” Arba asked almost immediately
“Well, there’s this other fragment that keeps following me around and it has healing properties”
“Fragments?” Arba asked, confused
“Yes, fire spirits. Like this” the man said lighting his fist on fire and turning it off “you want one? So, you can heal your dad”
“If it can heal my father, I will do anything” Arba replied and the man smiled
He gave Arba the fragment in a small vial of liquid which he told him to ingest. Arba rushed home with the man and healed his father. The family welcomed the man and gave him somewhere to sleep.
After his dad was all better, he spoke to the man who brought back his son and asked who he was. The man told him he was an executioner. His father was overjoyed and begged the man to take his son with him. This was out of fatherly love and fear of what might become of Arba if the world found out what he could do and the man accepted saying that was his intention.
Arba who had been eavesdropping stepped in and said he also wanted to leave with him. He had seen power beyond his father’s sword and just like his father and ancestors before him he sought to grow stronger.
Joining the rank of Executioners, he took on mission after mission learning nothing but carnage in his wake. After all, that which can heal can also kill.
Soon he came to be known as the Purple Hermit.