Name him

He was alive once, A living, breathing citizen of a city now buried in the sands of time. All the peoples speak of bard: stories,songs,books, telling of the wandering caretaker whose exploits deal with the very fabric of existence. Few have heard of him. A wealthy ionian merchant, selling goods across all of runeterra; customers of all kinds have come to him: peasants, kings, demigods. All marveled at his wares, usually of the religious kind, for they were beautifully crafted, intricate, and very affordable. Along his journey he met countless people, yet only one caught his eye, and much to his dismay: his heart. She was demacian, he thinks, it had been so long that his memories have become distorted, all he could was that she had a brilliant smile. Of course in stories such as this, love is inevitable, and love each other they did. History has seen that Noxia and Demacia had never been on common grounds, and alas! For on the way to meet her lover, Ms.heroine was cut down by Noxian blade. He stumbled upon her body, on his way to meet her half the distance, for he heard of the dangers and wanted to see her safely through. What anguish! What sorrow! His beloved was no longer with him, tangled in death's embrace she now was. He fled, far from Demacian soil, searching. He was bent now on finding a magic that could bring back his love, he studied under many mages, devouring spell after spell, though he knew he could not use magic. However, grief and anger raced through him, fuelling a dark magic that began to consume his very being. Word had spread through runterra about a growing darkness, many mages had come to seal it away, many failed. A powerful mage called Ryze, was able to seal it, with the assistance of the League of Legends, the magic was contained, and his quest should have ended here. His power grows greater still, unbeknownst to the league, he wanders battlefields, burning incense, ringing bells, silently praying to himself. He no longer remembers his love, though fresh in his mind is the pain of loss, and across many bloodied grounds he walks, hallowing it, collecting the essence of the fallen, resting their souls.

While bard is praised, and soldiers of battle are honored, he remains unknown to many, left to mourn, silently, eternally.

"Rest now o soul, though in your death you are forgotten by many, I will remember, I will mourn."