Vox
04-03-06, 04:07 AM
My name is Vox, and I’m not a mute. I’m twenty-seven years old, and I’m what some would affectionately refer to as a scholarly-barbarian. An oxymoron, I know. But it’s true. However, I’ll get more into that later. I’m pretty well spoken, as you can see. Of course, you’re just a moderator; a person without a face. You don’t actually exist here. If you did, you’d probably think I was a mute. Everyone does. Well, it’s not entirely true. I can speak a little bit. Oooo’s, and ahhh’s. Pointing, grunting, laughing. That’s all I can do after my voice box got caved in on a mountain top you haven’t heard of. Trust me, you haven’t heard of it. If I thought there was any chance you knew about it, I’d give you a name. But there’s not, so I won’t bother you with semantics.
So yeah. I can’t speak very well. I’m well spoken, but I can’t speak. You can understand my frustration. But I’m not a mute. And when I can speak fully again, I’ll have a select word or two for a few people in particular. Especially the ones who gave me this stupid nickname. Vox. In reference to my incapacitated vocal chords. Clever, no? I didn’t think so. Of course when you can’t talk, you can’t argue.
Well, you can, but not in the tradition manner.
That’s why I carry an axe. Heavy, with an oak haft and an iron head. I let my axe argue for me. On account of not being able to speak.
Yes, I can’t talk.
I’m sorry… is that getting repetitive? Great. Now you know how I feel. “Look at the mute.” “Mommy, why can’t that man talk?” “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Har har har…” I hear it ALL.
So in the mean time, I just grin and bare it all, while in reality, I just want to tell them all what an ignorant bunch of inbred idiots they are.
I know, the barbarian calling ‘civilized’ people inbred. But I’m not that type of barbarian. Where I come from, the plains, we value knowledge, as well as strength. We just don’t feel the need to throw libraries up all over the place to let people know we have a lot of books. We wear clothes. Simple clothes. Leather pants. Moccasins. We usually keep our hair long. We don’t wear shirts for the most part as far as the males go. Uncivilized? Not really. You try walking around in a tunic in the open plains with no shade, or protection from the sun. Give it an hour and you’ll be shirtless too. We’re humble people, really. We study, pray, work the fields, hunt, and move on to a new location and repeat the process. It sounds boring, I know. But you get used to it. You can get used to just about anything. Like not being able to communicate, or tell that annoying eight year old that ‘that man’ can’t speak because of an unfortunate accident, and he’s somewhat sensitive about it.
Oh, are you wondering what my real name is? It’s Ajim. Ajim Ferro. I tried to tell them, but as you might guess from my condition, it’s a lost cause. Why don’t I walk around with a few pieces of parchment and a quill, and write my messages down for them? Well, it’s a lot of work. And in the end, no one really cares all that much. So I just sigh and go with Vox. I can say Vox. Its ironically one of the few syllables my vocal impairment can handle.
So, anyways, I left for a while. I took a page out of my people’s book and decided to roam. I wasn’t much use as a teacher in my tribe, and I had enough of their pitying looks, so I headed north. Yeah, I probably should have planned ahead and bought a shirt. It gets cold here in the countryside. You know the countryside. You’re a moderator. You should know. It’s that area in Corone where adventurers go to test their mettle.
How do I know all this? It’s a gift. I can commune with the world. We all can. The goal of my people is to try and gain knowledge of anything and everything. This includes my world, other worlds, and the world as you know it. And every once in a while, someone wanders by and drops a bit of information about somewhere far away. Maybe in a different plane of existence. Maybe someone you know who was playing with magic they didn’t understand.
I guess I can go into a bit more description of my “powers”. Its really just knowledge. Just… knowledge of things you wouldn’t normally think about. When you would make a statement, I ask a question. When you would talk, I listen. I understand things that most people dismiss out of ignorance.
I’m talking about knowledge of existence itself. Sure, generic demon warrior ‘A’ can summon a bolt of energy to sear his enemies, but I understand how it happens. I know the physics, the energy. The act of existence. I can’t really explain it to you. It’s like trying to teach grammar to an earthworm. But maybe I can clarify a bit by explaining what the purpose of this is. The elders in my tribe have improved their knowledge of existence so much, that they can actually get right in there. Be the beam. So when that same generic demon series one, shoots his searing bolt of energy, they can rewrite it. Change it. Alter it. Bend it. Play God.
Neat, don’t you think? Well, I didn’t really expect you to understand. When I figure out how to do it myself, I’ll come back here and explain it better. Experience is the best teacher after all. For now, it’s not really an issue, because its levels away.
Levels? Did I say that? I have no idea what that means. Sometimes I confuse myself like that. It’s all part of the power. Knowing things you’re just not supposed to know.
On another note about power.
When push comes to shove, I’m not above just sinking in the blade of my axe in up to the shaft. I’ve become pretty good at it too. Not great, but good. And my guilty pleasure, I kind of enjoy it. Hence the barbarian side of me. Call it a rush. Really contrasts against the other thing doesn’t it? That’s why I said Scholarly-Barbarian. I’m kind of living two lives. The axe and the mind. But now I’m going off on a tangent. Smart people do that sometimes.
I don’t think I missed anything. Maybe this self-description was slightly unorganized, but I was never known for my organizational skills. If there’s anything else you need to know, ask. I’ll be around Radasanth. Maybe around the countryside. Wherever the wind takes me, as they say.
And I’m not a mute. Just remember that, alright?
So yeah. I can’t speak very well. I’m well spoken, but I can’t speak. You can understand my frustration. But I’m not a mute. And when I can speak fully again, I’ll have a select word or two for a few people in particular. Especially the ones who gave me this stupid nickname. Vox. In reference to my incapacitated vocal chords. Clever, no? I didn’t think so. Of course when you can’t talk, you can’t argue.
Well, you can, but not in the tradition manner.
That’s why I carry an axe. Heavy, with an oak haft and an iron head. I let my axe argue for me. On account of not being able to speak.
Yes, I can’t talk.
I’m sorry… is that getting repetitive? Great. Now you know how I feel. “Look at the mute.” “Mommy, why can’t that man talk?” “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Har har har…” I hear it ALL.
So in the mean time, I just grin and bare it all, while in reality, I just want to tell them all what an ignorant bunch of inbred idiots they are.
I know, the barbarian calling ‘civilized’ people inbred. But I’m not that type of barbarian. Where I come from, the plains, we value knowledge, as well as strength. We just don’t feel the need to throw libraries up all over the place to let people know we have a lot of books. We wear clothes. Simple clothes. Leather pants. Moccasins. We usually keep our hair long. We don’t wear shirts for the most part as far as the males go. Uncivilized? Not really. You try walking around in a tunic in the open plains with no shade, or protection from the sun. Give it an hour and you’ll be shirtless too. We’re humble people, really. We study, pray, work the fields, hunt, and move on to a new location and repeat the process. It sounds boring, I know. But you get used to it. You can get used to just about anything. Like not being able to communicate, or tell that annoying eight year old that ‘that man’ can’t speak because of an unfortunate accident, and he’s somewhat sensitive about it.
Oh, are you wondering what my real name is? It’s Ajim. Ajim Ferro. I tried to tell them, but as you might guess from my condition, it’s a lost cause. Why don’t I walk around with a few pieces of parchment and a quill, and write my messages down for them? Well, it’s a lot of work. And in the end, no one really cares all that much. So I just sigh and go with Vox. I can say Vox. Its ironically one of the few syllables my vocal impairment can handle.
So, anyways, I left for a while. I took a page out of my people’s book and decided to roam. I wasn’t much use as a teacher in my tribe, and I had enough of their pitying looks, so I headed north. Yeah, I probably should have planned ahead and bought a shirt. It gets cold here in the countryside. You know the countryside. You’re a moderator. You should know. It’s that area in Corone where adventurers go to test their mettle.
How do I know all this? It’s a gift. I can commune with the world. We all can. The goal of my people is to try and gain knowledge of anything and everything. This includes my world, other worlds, and the world as you know it. And every once in a while, someone wanders by and drops a bit of information about somewhere far away. Maybe in a different plane of existence. Maybe someone you know who was playing with magic they didn’t understand.
I guess I can go into a bit more description of my “powers”. Its really just knowledge. Just… knowledge of things you wouldn’t normally think about. When you would make a statement, I ask a question. When you would talk, I listen. I understand things that most people dismiss out of ignorance.
I’m talking about knowledge of existence itself. Sure, generic demon warrior ‘A’ can summon a bolt of energy to sear his enemies, but I understand how it happens. I know the physics, the energy. The act of existence. I can’t really explain it to you. It’s like trying to teach grammar to an earthworm. But maybe I can clarify a bit by explaining what the purpose of this is. The elders in my tribe have improved their knowledge of existence so much, that they can actually get right in there. Be the beam. So when that same generic demon series one, shoots his searing bolt of energy, they can rewrite it. Change it. Alter it. Bend it. Play God.
Neat, don’t you think? Well, I didn’t really expect you to understand. When I figure out how to do it myself, I’ll come back here and explain it better. Experience is the best teacher after all. For now, it’s not really an issue, because its levels away.
Levels? Did I say that? I have no idea what that means. Sometimes I confuse myself like that. It’s all part of the power. Knowing things you’re just not supposed to know.
On another note about power.
When push comes to shove, I’m not above just sinking in the blade of my axe in up to the shaft. I’ve become pretty good at it too. Not great, but good. And my guilty pleasure, I kind of enjoy it. Hence the barbarian side of me. Call it a rush. Really contrasts against the other thing doesn’t it? That’s why I said Scholarly-Barbarian. I’m kind of living two lives. The axe and the mind. But now I’m going off on a tangent. Smart people do that sometimes.
I don’t think I missed anything. Maybe this self-description was slightly unorganized, but I was never known for my organizational skills. If there’s anything else you need to know, ask. I’ll be around Radasanth. Maybe around the countryside. Wherever the wind takes me, as they say.
And I’m not a mute. Just remember that, alright?