-- Bardâs head turned the second an explosion went off.
Golden medallion face spinning ever so slowly with the holes glowing with an ethereal energy. Such power... It was nothing on the scale that would threaten the worldâs balance but it was still such a devastating force it couldnât not grab the caretakerâs attention. He found himself wandering slowly over to sector oo1 without hesitation. The celestial being was not in the vicinity of a television to understand the situation, even if he was he probably wouldnât be able to fully comprehend the situation anyway, but something certainly was not normal. As he wandered closer and closer-- more and more explosions went off, each one increasing the deityâs curiosity. Lives were disappearing.
Flames engulfing concrete, rubble splattered red, gently being covered by little white specks of snow... many mortals had died here. Avoiding all line of sight of any police, medical or rescuer attendants at the site, Bard snuck into the site from behind the main entrance to the shopping centre. Long locks of hair floating elegantly, with yellow lights slowly fading back to dark abysses, all the wandering caretaker could do was look up with the blank expression the adornment that could be described as his face permitted him to have constantly. The life force in this area was floating up towards the stars as it should do but... there was an abnormality in its behavior.
Bard pulled out his trumpet, the one he was provided with whe he first arrived in this strange city, and gently pressed it against the lowest opening on his mask... silence, soon to be broken. A solemn yet soothing solo filled the air around the devastation, its location could not be pinpointed to a single location; it filled the air, surrounding those who were well, injured or even dead. As the life energy flowed up into the sky, Bard played a simple elegy... an elegy for the mortality of life itself.
Bard was not and probably never will be concerned for the mundane mumblings that were the intricacies of every single beingâs life. However, he understood that life itself was very important to every single creature that ever possessed it; even he himself was not eternal even though he had existed for more time than could actually be comprehended; it doesn't matter what comes after people hold onto what they currently have more than what they will get when the time comes.
A certain celestial being, much like himself, came to mind when he looked up on the havoc and destruction that had just occurred, not relenting in his trumpet symphony even once; unhesitating. This was merely a cycle of life that occurred; it has happened many times and has seen it happen, and has seen it will happen for many years to come, he was not bothered by it. However, if this other being was here, he could only imagine the pain and suffering she would be experiencing as a result of this. Whereby the mundane activities that comprised a mortalâs life was not his subject of observation, hers was however, to look after all lives and heal those who needed it. But even he remembers what happened to this celestial being, it wasnât too long before his manifestation that it occured... she disobeyed the stars and became mortal.
The song soon reached itâs climax and begun to slowly reach its denouement, notes and symphonies echoing through the air. Mortality was certainly an odd concept-- the value of which he would probably never fully understand; however something about the life energy in this place was abnormal... not completely new to the caretaker, its patterns resembled the life energy behaviors of a location he manifested in back in Valoran, but it was not acting in a way it normally should.
As it flowed up to the sky to touch the stars it just... stopped. Waiting there as a compiled cloud of life force above the cityâs skyline. A phenomena Bard could only âlookâ at as he played his song. However, after a set amount of time, it begun to spread out over the city and back down into its walls. It would seem, life here is not transient... it seems here it would last eternally until some force was broken.
Bard had no way to know this was going to happen; he had no knowledge of this place before coming here so any future actions were a mystery to him... though this event was not on par with some of the devastations he had had to intervene in, he found himself wondering if he still had the capability to aid the world... this world should itâs safety and structure come into an imbalance.
...Silence. The song ended. And Bard held the trumpet down at his side as he watched the life energy dash across the snowy sky, back down into the city, to inhabit their physical bodies once more. An odd diversion, one of which he didnât understand the necessity of nor the situation behind... he was an observer to the world, an indifferent party that manages the balance of the world life itself inhabits... and he was taking on this exact role.
The wandering caretaker quietly floated and jingled back into the back alleys of the city to resume his duty not even a minute after he was finished. It was an interesting diversion but there were more rumors around the city going about an otherworldly song being played at the shopping mallâs devastation... This city had many oddities.
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The life cycles of mortals were certainly interesting; killing certainly wasnât unfamiliar to the celestial tuba especially since his most recent manifestation involved plenty of it but nothing that was a part of this indicated the world was going into an imbalance-- he found himself questioning the sanity of the mortal who was on the strange electronic device more than anything. Either way, Bard would be taking an observer role for the time being-- as per his own role in the heavens.
Send me ⌠for my museâs reaction to walking in on your muse3: Unconscious
It was only through Bardâs wandering through the city that he encountered the young man slumped against an alleyway wall. Placing the trumpet to the lowest opening on his mask, the holes lit up with an ethereal gold light. Life still presided in this mortal.
Though it wasnât his duty to interfere with life, nor did he understand what happened to the boy, being the (probably) only celestial spirit in this city, the caretaker couldnât just leave him like this. The stars in this world remained quiet so perhaps his duty was a little more⊠lenient
Bending down, the greater spirit pointed the trumpet right at the boys face. Rotund, belly like structure expanding quickly with air, he released it all down the leadpipe of the instrument⊠although it mightâve been too much as he played it with the same voracity as his own instrument so all that emerged was a loud, low, head rumbling burst of sound.Â
Send me ⌠for my muse's reaction to walking in on your muse17: Drunk
All the wandering caretaker could do was overlook as the rather imposing man who lightly punched him in the face stumbled around the streets, unable to walk in a straight line. He had seen some mortals act like this before, and even one he had encountered personally most recently in Valoran. He didnât fully understand why but it always seemed to happen occassionally after they indulge in profuse liquid nourishment.
Eitherway all the greater spirit could do was watch, face plate spinning out of curiosity. Mortals were strange but this situation might help him gain a better understanding.
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Staring at theâŠthing, in some half awake daze he jumped in his skin as the surreal being made sounds at him. Was thatâŠmusic? He was pretty sure that sound came from itâs face. He took a pause, running a hand through his hair. He started counting on his fingers how many days itâs been since he last sleptâpretty confident he tripped over his three day threshold four hours ago.Â
Now it handed him a trumpet for some reason. The fuck is he supposed to do with this? He took a pause, trying to consider if he was even awake right now. He hadnât met anything like this in the city yet and goddamn was it weird. Didnât really help that it looked like something straight out of a dream in the first place.Â
He puts the trumpet up to his mouth and blows, his tired state making it a rather lazy, crude sound. A wheezy, tired laugh comes from him. Figuring it must be a dream, he starts toying it with and laughing as it makes horrible sounds.Â
Wait, can he touch the weird musical thing? He punches it in the faceplate a couple times. Tonk, tonk, tonk!
Bard took two floaty step backs as the mortal lightly punched his face plate that could only vaguely be compared to a face; a harsh cacophony of woodwind vibrating in the air around him. That certainly wasn't the reaction he expected to his question; he understood morals wouldnât be able to understand him-- after all it wasnât his duty to communicate with people and help with their lives; his duty was something else entirely.
Atleast the caretaker received a very oddly posed answer to his initial question. The instrument, that was now in the hands of the curr standing before him mind you, worked in a similar manner to his own instrument; though all it seemed worthy for was making noise and couldnât manipulate any celestial energies in the air around... atleast that is what he took from this manâs toying anyway.
The wandering caretaker stood there for a minute in silence looking the mortal up and down... mask rotating quickly in each direction alternatively; what was the best way to go about this.
Taking a more diagonal stance to distance himself from the man; he certainly didnât want to be on the end of another âlight tapâ, hand outstretched he asked for the metal tool back; he was provided with it afterall, it was his responsibility to keep it safe, although not his weapon, it might still have a purpose.
Right before her musical companionâs arrival, Ahri has been lost in her own thoughts. Why you might ask? Well, in the store window in front of her, she found one of the most peculiar things; Total Biscuit of Rejuvenation. A lengthy title thatâs for sure, but hey, they were pretty tasty!
â if only it were that simple though. To all of the vixenâs knowledge, these biscuits were a snack native to only Runeterra. Seeing them here in hive city, in random hole in the wall shop only made her brow raise and her tails swish back and forth as curiosity took hold. Just how in summonerâs name did these get all the way here? This prison of theirs was certainly an interesting oneâŠ
but enter musical trumpets and jingles all about.
Ahriâs sharp ears immediately pick up on them, and as she turns around to confirm her suspicions, sheâs met with the jolly golden musician she had only begun to hear rumors about prior to her capture. He was everything they said he was, and to be honest seeing all these things reminiscent of âhomeâ quickly out a smile on her face. There really was no where like the league of legends.
âHello there~â she replies cheerily. âYouâre the one they call âBardâ correct? Youâre as wonderful as they say. I wish we could have met in better conditions my fellow champion, but nonetheless, Iâm most certainly happy to finally make your acquaintance. I am Ahri.â - with that she gracefully bows. Â
Although paying attention to the occurrences that happen within the lives of Runeterra wasnât what Bard delved in, there were certain few individuals that caught the attention of the celestial beings due to the oddities surrounding their circumstances and one could say Ahri was one of them. Although the caretaker didnât know the specifics of it, he could tell that the life in front of him was not a regular one.
{ âȘ âŹÂ â« }
Bard imitated her bow with a quick ditty to reciprocate the greeting as well as to accept that he was the one known as âBardâ. Another word people use to refer to him, he didnât fully understand it or why the residents of Runeterra gave him a name, but in this situation at least it serves a handy purpose.
Out of curiosity, holding the trumpet he was provided with at his side, he outstretched a hand to see closer what the fox was perusing in the window of the shop. Ever since manifesting himself once more in Valoran, heâs had to grow accustomed to using these services; he thought it was an odd custom but it served a purpose at least.
In the window he spotted a very familiar commodity that he himself was familiar with; he assumed this is what Ahri was looking at. Total biscuits of rejuvenation, heâs only had them once or twice at the behest of other people recommending them to him. How odd that confectionery from one world can exist in another, clearly there were many things even Bard didn't fully comprehend.
Turning to Ahri, now pointing at the biscuit in the shop window, mask spinning, he posed a question in the form of a mini-composition involving tuba-esque sounds.
Is this what she was looking at, he wondered. Even he found it odd that something from Runeterra existed here so he could only assume, although maybe it held some significance to the fox; he was unsure. The lives of mortals was not his... âdivisionâ per se... in the celestial realm.
Still growing accustom to his new  surroundings, Veigar was anything but pleased with his first encounter with one of the other fools that resided in this place. If the yordle had any hopes of  being able to start again here, where people werenât aware of past failed heists and what have you, they had just been strewn all over the ground. (like Veigar.)
The yordle brought himself off the ground rather unsteadily, not even taking a moment to fix his attire before he pointed a sharp, glinting finger in the face of the obviously apologetic wrong-doer.
He spent a lot of time sputtering, too angry for words to come out clearly.
"You imbecile! Havenât you the foggiest of where youâre walking?!â
Veigarâs shoulders heaved as he finally adjusted the position of his hat to better aid in sight, not to mention how threatening can you be if you donât look the part?
"Iâd smite you where you stood, if I werenât busy enough as it is. But Iâd recommend you begin counting down the days beforeâ"
His warnings cut short once he got a better look at the being who knocked him over, narrowing his eyes almost as he attempted to process the thoughts running through his head, body-language slightly less tense than prior to his pause.Â
Veigar straightened himself out, staring down the creature best he could from under his brimmed hat.
Bardâs knowledge of yordles was fairly limited. From his position they seemed to be a very amicable race with a just as active culture and development so Veigarâs outburst was of a surprise although not of a great one. He knew there was a yordle that had become twisted and had become relatively well-known, though he didnât know the specifics of how or why it happened. Based on his attire, the caretaker assumed that this yordle and that yordle were one in the same.
He simply watched with no real change in expression (what little expression he did have anyway) and just listened as the tiny master of evil ripped into him slightly. What a curious creature, from what he saw from the stars there were no, or atleast very few, yordles that spoke with such harsh and mean remarks. Though every life has its dark sides, it seems that this oneâs side is blacker than the rest.
However, when his comments suddenly stopped, Bardâs head tilted very slightly with a very minute jingle; his mask-like head doing a quick rotation. It seems the yordle came to a realization and all he could do was look back at the yordle as he was examined.
Champion? It hadnât been long since he had manifested once more within Valoran but he remembered the people around him using that word a lot; sometimes to refer to themselves, other times to refer to him. He didnât really fully understand the concept, after all he was a neutral party in the worldâs balance, he didnât particularly delve into the intricacies of the lives on Runeterra; all he did was govern over the worldâs balance. If something threatened the balance or a bestowed artifact was wrongly used, no matter who you were or what situation you were in, Bard would step in. However this word clearly was a title or some kind to refer to a group of individuals which he was a part of. All the greater spirit could do was bend the upper part of his body forward slightly, twice in succession, to imitate a nod and causing him to jingle once more. Though he wondered if this was the right answer.
An odd inflection at the end of the percussion symphony that radiated from his being suggested a question, giving a vibe of uncertainty or confusion. Almost as if to ask âWhy are you asking?â or âShould this signify something to you?â; Bard was unclear of the little yordleâs intentions but as far as his knowledge went, they were both classified under the word âChampionâ.
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More curious happenings have occurred in a single day than in the entire time Bard had governed over the worldâs balance... that might be an overstatement but there have certainly been a large number of enigmatic occurrences that even he didn't fully grasp the nature of. His mind was still focused on Runeterra and itâs balance and he couldn't help but feel what was probably akin to fear for his world. There have been many events which he had to intervene in whoâs to say one such event didn't happen while he was in this world.
As Bard stepped and floated lightly through the streets, the diversity and variety that was in Runeterra, specifically Valoran, was on his mind. A wonderful continent full of various cultures, races and features-- but a continent plagued with hatred, crime and war all the same. Though he played no part in the intervention of these, only when imbalance is occurring does he step in; he was a neutral party and respected lifeâs many cycles.
Speaking of stepping, as Bard was jingling along, one of his peg legs came into a collision with something much smaller than he while his concentration wandered. Looking down he spotted yet another familiar looking mortal with which he had encountered personally before- this time a yordle, though he knew how different this yordle was.
Lightly jumping back with an elegant spin, Bard landed softly and outstretched a hand as a manner of apology.
{ âȘ â â«Â âŹÂ â }
The emerging symphony that vibrated out of him was of a sad yet serene tone with a long trombone sound at the end to signify his mistake and that he was sorry. The caretaker honestly didnât mean to kick the yordle but it was while his concentration was someplace else. Still to see another familiar face in this very unfamiliar world is most fortunate indeed.
Bard spent a great amount of time wandering this city since his arrival, mostly out of the sight of other people just to get a bearing of this city but there have been a couple of glances his way, itâs really unavoidable with the number of citizens living in a city this large. There were probably rumors of mysterious instruments being heard around the city already in circulation; such is the nature of spirits, never really fully understood.
However it was during this exploration of Hive City that Bard sensed a rather peculiar presence among the crowds of people, his gaze never escaping it. He spotted a woman in the crowd who looked fairly mortal but there was something âgreaterâ behind her. Face plate spinning slightly in curiosity as he skipped and jumped around the back alley of the city trying to keep tabs on this woman, the caretaker looked for a good enough opportunity to talk to her. Did she know he was following her? Maybe, a lot is unclear about this woman but thereâs something familiar about her.
An opportunity presented itself in due time as she stepped away from the crowds of people and near to an alley where he was presiding. Long hair locks ebbing and flowing unnaturally as though being blown by the wind, the holes in his face plate lit up with a spiritual yellow to try and catch her attention.
{Â âȘÂ â« }
A quick, dulcet tone of what sounded like a bass tuba radiated from his being to further get the enigmatic womanâs attention. There wasnât anything in the quick jingle to suggest hostility or tension, more it gave rise to emotions of curiosity and uncertainty; he simply wanted to talk, that was all.
There are many things the wandering caretaker knew, probably more than was physically comprehensible to the lives that resided in the world of Runeterra. Was he omniscient? Probably not-- there are many beings that govern the cosmos and each govern their own separate duties; however, what can be known is that Bard understood much, much more that could probably be comprehended. However, one such thing he didnât understand is where he currently was, what world he was currently in. Though one setback was clear...
This wasnât Runeterra...
Bardâs current thoughts were directed at the worldâs balance. Were ancient artifacts being used appropriately and not for war? Was life in and of itself facing immediate annihilation? It was all unclear. For now, he needed to find a way back to the heavens and away from this world-- that was his main goal. This world was vastly different to Runeterra and shared very little similarities with it at all; perhaps this is what is known as homesickness?
As Bard jingled and jangled around the city, a fairly familiar creature caught his attention; one of the few lives in the world he had encountered. That bright red garb, those silky, black, locks of hair and matching snow-white fox tails-- thereâs only one person that could be; only one on Runeterra, probably only one like that here.
As Bard jingled as he skipped and floated his way over to the fox, the emerging harmony of woodwind instruments that emerged from his being had a welcoming and slightly happy tone to it; signifying a greeting. Might as well say hello, seeing familiar faces is always welcome.
Ever since he recently came to this city, the celestial caretaker has been quite curious over the... instrument he was provided with upon arrival; it was unfamiliar to him and uncertainty on how it could be utilized was definitely a prominent emotion.
Mask-esque head spinning curiously as he sat and looked at the trumpet with both hands holding it at the tips of either end; his long, flowing locks undulating elegantly as if they weren't bound by natural physics. He had observed the mortals he governs over utilize these tools on many occasion to produce music of both celebratory and mourning tones. Bard himself had not used one before, but it certainly shared similarities.
Spotting a rather imposing male human pass by, the spirit thought it prudent to atleast ask. Although an overseer of life and having knowledge of many things that life cannot tell, he was just an overseer and his practical knowledge was limited. Jingling over to the man with floaty, moon like steps, he held the trumpet out in front of him in one hand.
The culmination of musical harmonies that emerged from his very being was like an orchestrated piece; noises similar to violins, flutes, oboes and the like were all part of the symphony; the tone of the music had an uncertain or mysterious vibe to it signifying he was probably asking a question. Bard knew he couldnât communicate with humans, but hopefully through presenting this trumpet the man will understand his intentions.
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