In Scotland, a male "Johnson" American Bulldog was adopted by a man who had no family. His house was cluttered, lifeless and dull.
But his owner had friends. Lots of them.
And they met often. Very often. Always in the backyard. They would talk about everything and anything, his owner would sometimes get drunk and sing along to the songs they were playing.
He wanted to do the same. He howled and barked trying to get the pitch and would whimper if the music was gone. Thus, he was called Bard.
Bard became the life of the party, he would greet everyone and sing to his heart's content. His neighbors (both humans and animals) told him to shut up but he kept singing anyway.
After many karaoke nights, he garnered an excellent singing voice and his owner and his friends greatly loved him.
The general populace did not think the same. It was all because of his breed. But he couldn't choose it, could he?
One time while he was out with his owner, a lady beside them dropped her handkerchief. Bard quickly picked it up and gave it to her.
The lady was quite startled and could only mutter an awkward sentence. "What a well-bred dog you have, sir!"
"Ah, you mean Bard? He's a good dog."
And though the lady was convinced, her friends and family weren't.
Bard had to take more effort to get the trust of his neighbors. Humans were a tricky subject outside of his owners and his friends.
Though life was hard, he dealt with it by songs and his friends.
But then, one drunk night, the house was on fire. The lamp accidentally got knocked over and there was oil on the grass. The house was also made out of wood.
Half of them and Bard got out, his owner's friends tried to fight the fire while Bard ran to the nearest firefighter station. The firefighters got confused why a dog was suddenly barking at them until by realizing he's howling the lyrics of a fire-related song and he had a collar, they got the truck ready.
Bard and the firefighters arrived to the scene with the whole house on fire. Everyone was out and safe.
Everyone but his owner.
Bard thoughtlessly ran inside the house calling for his owner. Fire engulfed his vision and scent. After what seemed like an eternity, he was able to smell his owner and halfway get him into a safe place.
Due to the inhalation of smoke, Bard ed out. The firefighters saw them and got them outside.
Moments later, the owner woke up and was surprized to see Bard lying still. The firefighters didn't want to tell him they thought he was dead.
The owner and his friends realized Bard's breathing was getting slower. With nothing else left to do, they sung the first song he heard the night he was adopted as merrily as they can. He heard it and breathed his last.
Bard woke up surrounded by darkness and asked nobody in particular. "Am I in Hell?"
"Consider this as the underworld, not exactly Hell." A dog replied. Bard stepped back wondering why he had bones on him.
He soon was brought into the Rift and was told that he was capable of being a Reaper.
He was confused, he got the basics, some Solish phrases but had no idea how this worked. Apparently, he had to renamed himself.
He thought of a name, something fancy. He and every Reaper would call him Baron.
Yes, Baron. The dog once seen as a trouble and inconvience to society because of his breed would now be seen as important.
o-o-o
Andddd this is Bard's/Baron's backstory! I originally wanted to put this in his Wiki but I had a title in mind so I had to make this into a blog.
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