The Epistle of Aganbar "Earth Scourge"

Honoured ancestor, this child greets you

And comes to you with news aplenty

My name is Aganbar, titled “Earth Scourge”

Apprentice to the great Toa, foremost sage of Arzom.

Ancestor, your child has attained feats

And gone further than any other in the history of our line

A lot of this is thanks to my master, Toa

It was he who found and raised me to my standing

Believing in my talent and cultivating it to this extent

The greater portion of is due to my own effort

The hard work, the blood, sweat and toil

I have put into bettering and proving myself

I have climbed higher than I ever thought possible

My talent is recognised and unquestioned,

My might unparalleled among my peers

I have none among my peers to call my equal

Despite everything, I have made to the peak.

Sadly, this is not enough,

I have proven my worth,

My skill, power and intellect.

I have cut out a niche for myself.

And yet still one thing holds me back

And prevents me from reaping the fruits

Of the labour I so painfully sowed

There’s one thing I cannot change

That I am low born

My parents were but lowly clerks

And I have no illustrious history.

For some, this is cause for mockery

As they can never claim superiority in any other matters

Long have I grown weary of their jests

Long have I suffered at their hands

Thankfully, a way presented itself.

You see, my great ancestor,

This child is too talented, too powerful

Too skilled and too mighty

Though I possessed no known legacy,

Many refused to believe I was of “new blood”

Even I bought into it. Who does not dream of it?

The chance of being a descendant

A scion of long lost house or

Child of some ancient clan.

Eager to be rid of it,

What I considered my one failing,

I sought to prove it, beginning my search

To trace our family lines and past

It didn’t take long.

No, It didn’t take long at all.

Six generations!

Six generations, that’s all I found!

Ending of course with yourself.

Six! When some boast of a thousand.

Oh how they jeered, my detractors,

When they heard of my findings.

Low Born! They called me.

Villager! Upstart! They reminded me.

So eager were they to point

That I was the second mage of my line.

That my great legacy was yours

The legacy of the village goatherd.

I will admit, they got to me.

For a time, it was all I could think of.

But then an epiphany struck me.

Do not all legacies start somewhere?

Do not all families start somewhere?

Nothing simply springs into being.

With such thoughts in my head,

This child came to a conclusion.

Our family might have no great legacy now,

But that did not mean we never will.

I would be the one to leave that legacy.

The question was, how?

I have none in my blood.

Nor did I have the means

Talented I might be but I am no God

Nor am I as great, as brilliant or as foolish

As the Infamous O’be.

Whose acts incurred the wrath of the heavens

Thankfully, not all legacies are of blood

There are techniques and weapons.

They can be materials, land or titles.

It was here that I saw it.

Like a bolt from the blue, it hit me.

Opening my eyes to my stupidity.

Legacies are nought but inheritances

Things passed from generation to next

To ensure their continuity and prosperity

Mine might be but six old

But we surely had that,

Didn’t we?

And so I began my search anew

I sought among the things

That I had once thought irrelevant

The answer lay with you, honoured ancestor

It was under my nose the entire time

And yet I never saw it.

You were but one of many that year.

Refugees fleeing the destruction

Brought by the raiding daemon hordes

A child then, you barely understood

What happened and the reason why

Why you were now alone.

Some kind fellows dropped you off

At Tha’nen Village, our would be home.

Where growing up, you worked odd jobs

Doing any and everything

That would earn you food and shelter

Until one day, you hatched a plan.

Making off into the highlands

And surprising all when you returned

For you came back with a goat.

Some bleating wild thing

That pulled at its restraints

As you dragged it into the village.

I can only imagine their shock

When over the months, the years

You’d head back into the highlands

Bringing back goats when you could.

Until you built a respectable flock.

And changed the fates of our line.

I even saw, hanging in our homestead,

The horns of that buck

First to born in our household.

The one you killed and sacrificed

According to the old ways.

You pleased Heaven and Earth that day.

I found our family legacy.

My detractors were right all along

I carried the legacy of a goatherd.

Now I no longer shy from it.

How can I be ashamed of it?

The inheritance that ensured our continuity.

It changed you from handyman to shepherd

It gave you capital to trade.

Years later, it gave you standing and dowry

To have your grandchild, my grandfather

Marry the daughter of the village chieftain,

And it eventually made me, me.

If not for that goat herd,

How would my father, his issue

Be sent to the city when his gift awoke?

If not for that goat herd,

How would he have paid his tuition?

How would he have met my mother?

No longer was I troubled

By my humble beginnings.

No longer was it a failing.

When my detractors used it

I would smile proudly.

For I am the scion of a goatherd.

It took a while but I found

That all great families had similar

Or at times, even worse beginnings.

The illustrious Tombstone Warriors?

Nothing but a family of undertakers

Who gained an affinity for death qi.

The great Fan Clan?

Their ancestor was a thief

Whose luck changed one day

After stealing a rank four pill.

The start of the Piddletons?

A prostitute and an unknown father.

They protested it of course.

But I had proof. Always have proof.

Soon, the point was made.

We all have humble beginnings.

Some even have shameful ones.

None jeered at our legacy again.

Still, great ancestor, I must apologise.

I am sorry. I truly am.

Not just for denying you all these years.

But for what comes next.

If that episode taught me one thing.

It is that our family might change

One day our descendants

Might be ashamed as I once was.

They will see neither your worth

Or your immense contribution.

Like others, they will recount their history

From an entirely different point.

They will likely begin with me.

The great and unparalleled Aganbar.

And ignore the story of the goatherd.

I can only beg you on their behalf.

I can only plead so you understand

That it will not be by my doing.

I can only promise to do all I can

To prevent any such thing from happening.

I will mark my name in all the books

And have them know you too

I will ensure that our line never forgets

How it begun.

I will do this because this child

Ancestor, this child has inherited more from you

Than anyone else thus far.

I gained your name and your spirit.

From the horns of that old buck

I crafted my signature focus

Thanks to you, I am me.

I am no longer ashamed great ancestor

No more do I hide the truth

I am Aganbar, the mightiest Sage in Arzom

Everyone will know.

My ancestor was a goatherd.

His name was Aganbar too!

An epistle written by Aganbar, “Earth Scourge”. The Lord High Magus of Arzom during the Skylight years. Perhaps the most famous mage of his time, it is said that he carried a distinctive staff that had a headpiece crafted from the spiralling goat horns. Unsurprising, as his family name “Boarsima” literally means, goatherd. His clan, even today, keep a large herd of the animals. They are all daemons reportedly bred since the clan’s founding.

Aganbar from "Agan ba wu" / "Agan ba zar" translates into "Surpassing all others" or "Greater than the rest" in my native tongue.