Vratta, the god of death in the book I am writing. 

Please read the following short excerpt about him bellow:

"The Song Bird" was busy this evening. The main hall was full of patrons waiting for the next performer to delight their time, and perhaps become their next big discovery to procure and display at their extravagant feasts and galas. Nero sat on a stool next to a slightly open window, the cool night breeze felt nice on his face especially in contrast to the blazing hot fire place at the back of the main hall and the many lamps which were burning bright. The rest of the gang were out who knows were and he let himself drift on the low hum of the crowd. Suddenly all of the fires went out until only low burning coals and faintly lit lamps were left. The crowd went silent at first but after a few moments Nero could hear murmurs from the crowd: "It's him," and: "The Night Bard," or: "I hope he sings The Shade and The Light," and so on and so forth. Almost immediately after hearing the murmurs, the low lights grew slightly stronger. Strong enough so a figure could be seen standing on the stage.
 
Engulfed in darkness, the man, it had to be a man Nero thought, took a step forward. A man indeed. A tall man, long black hair tied up in one thick braid, a small goatee decorated his face. A strong wide face if not a young one. Nero estimated he was around 45 years old, at the very least, though when he caught a glimpse of his eyes, he could almost swear they felt much older than that. He was clad in a dark shirt and wide thigh pants. Dark silver embroidered vest was buttoned over the shirt and silver straps were wrapped around his forearms and boots. He had many pouches on his two belts and three raven engraved silver buckles, two for the belts and one to fasten his cloak. The cloak was perhaps the most bizarre of it all. Starting from a deep dark blue color it grew darker as it fell down until eventually it felt as if dissipating into the surrounding darkness. Nero could swear he could see faint star like glimmers flickering across the cloak. 

 

Looking over the crowd, The Night Bard waited until complete silence and only then did he reached inside his cape and produced a beautifully crafted black lyre with the head of a raven coming out of its top end. He then cleared his throat in a deep gurgle and began singing in a deep, captivating voice all the while playing a beautiful tune:

"The hero was brave he went facing the blight
he wore no armor aside of the light
he brought no weapons other than fire
and swore to protect using naught but his ire.
 
The hero was rash he was harsh he was brazen
and confronting the evil he was stunned he was frozen
the light did fail him and did not protect him
the fire went out as his power went dim.

 

Then did he ran out in the night
the darkness gave shelter from his enemy's sight
And in the shadow a weapon he found
a blade sharp and strong, a hilt solid and sound. 

 

And as the evil passed and turned his back
the hero leapt fast, striking its neck
the evil was killed by cutting its head
and the hero was cheered and celebrated.

 

And though he had always walked in the light
he never felt the same of the darkness of night
for it had saved him as surely as he was in fright
of learning life was grey, not black nor white,"

 

The melody was beautiful and moving. The bard's fingers moved daftly over the strings. The bard let the song end on the same note it began, a slightly sad tone, echoing through the great hall. As the music faded away, the bard's gaze swept over the crowd and as it reached Nero, it lingered for just a faint moment and his eyes flickered; in what emotion Nero could not tell, and then it was gone and his gaze move on. But Nero was sure, that bard did see him, more than see him, he recognized him. 

 

As the crowd's murmurs grew louder, so did the fires until the hall was fully lit again. Nero turned his head for a moment and took another sip of his drink, then almost chocked in surprise as a deep voice spoke to him from behind: "You, my friend, look like an interesting shade of grey if ever I've seen one! I am The Night Bard, but do call me Vratta," he said to Nero with the most charming if somewhat mischievous smiles Nero had ever seen…