These semitonal, incomplete motes of energy-or meeps-were drawn to him whenever he added his own voice to the cosmic opus, forever ringing in one perfect accord. He traveled the swirling harmonies between the stars, along with the tiniest wisps of residual inspiration and thought left over from their birth. Fate did not disappoint, and with the forging of the first stars, the silence was broken and the first rapturous notes of creation rang in Bard's ear. In the beginning, Bard had drifted without purpose or perspective through a silent cosmos, but with a deep sense of anticipation that something miraculous would eventually come to fill it. However, for one prodigious entity, the intangible and everlasting beauty of this dimension is not seen, but heard-for Bard, a troubadour as enigmatic as he is eternal, the wondrous firmament is a symphony of mystic, ambrosial music. It is said that most inhabitants of the celestial realm see their home as a wondrous and vivid tapestry, woven with prismatic threads of purest starlight.
