╸𝘕𝘈𝘔𝘌 : Vox

╸𝘈𝘎𝘌 : 43│10/17/XX

Vox, although 43 years old, feels to be an old soul. How they came to be is unknown to the public but the energy that flows in and out of them reflects something all too familiar to all who interact with them.

                            ━ “I am made of old bandages. Not bones nor muscle, simply bandages. To take pity on me would be the same as taking pity on any other inanimate object. I just happen to move off my own free will.”

            ╸𝘐𝘋𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘐𝘛𝘠 : masculine│he/him/they/them

demiromantic│demisexual

                           ━ “I have no business with love.”

          ╸𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘊𝘐𝘌𝘚 : ???

Vox has no species considering they are simply an enchanted being. This can be a cause for political uprisings; however, since they are no human being, it could be argued by malicious-minded people that they do not deserve the same rights as those who are human beings. They belong to no people of their own.

 ╸𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘌𝘙𝘈𝘓

Vox resembles a mummy. They are made up of linen cloth bandages and wear a dark brown trench coat, form-fitting pants, and heavy boots. On top of their head is a wide-brimmed hat that can cover their eyes when at the right angle. The cloth bandages are wound up tight for the most part aside from a spot on their chest, a space for their mouth, and a singular eye(they always say they only need one to hit the target). Long strips of linen bound together like rope hang from their head as if to emulate hair, more specifically dreads. The spot on their chest reveals an orange light that matches the color of their glowing eye.  Wrapping around their arms are other ghostly bandages with what seem to have minds of their own, as Vox can manipulate them and grab people with them. On their belt are slings for their enchanted pistols as well as a small bag for other items. There is also a small hourglass filled with orange sand that hangs from Vox's belt. They also wear leather gloves.

╸𝘉𝘖𝘋𝘠 : 6’7 / 200cm│ 107 lbs / 48 kgs

                            ━ “You can’t kill what is not alive.”

╸𝘍𝘈𝘊𝘌 :

               𝘦𝘺𝘦 : orange │n/a

               𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 : n/a │n/a

━━━━━━

━━━━𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

╸𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘌𝘙𝘈𝘓 : reserved

Vox is quiet. He never speaks out of turn and hesitates to give his opinion unless prompted. He can come off as blunt to others, perhaps even rude, simply because he is duty-bound to his work mindset. Vox is very work-oriented and doesn’t like to stray away from the task at hand if the activity isn’t something he deems necessary. But Vox, with all their humanlike characteristics, keeps everything in. There is a lot more going on within that fiery glow of his eye and beyond all the bandages than he allows himself to feel and express. Its because secretly, when no one is around, he admits to being deathly afraid.

                            ━ “I've got six bullets, but I'm only gonna need one for you."

╸𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘐𝘛𝘚 :

               𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦: loyal, obedient, reliable 

                𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦: distant, workaholic, blunt 

                             ━ “I thought this bounty would be a challenge. Seems that I was wrong.”

╸𝘏𝘈𝘉𝘐𝘛𝘜𝘈𝘓 :

                𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘴: picking at his bandages

                𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘴: …

               𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴: having a phantom itch he literally can’t scratch because he can't feel.

               𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴: suddenly losing his lifeforce

╸𝘐𝘓𝘓𝘕𝘌𝘚𝘚 :

               mental illness: potential paranoid personality disorder

In the kingdom of Morrow, there was a powerful mage by the name of Lucien Rex. All knew him as a kind and gentle soul. Though he held the power to completely flatten the land, he was often seen in the village with children, showing them little tricks and telling them that they too could be mages just like he was. Lucien had a smile on his face at all hours of the day but was a hero who had protected Morrow with his strong will and magic during the darkest times of war. 

When he was just 16, he was drafted to fight in the Battle of the Forge, a war between Morrow and Tal'dor. Though he was a lowly mage with what was considered to be novice skills, his selfless act of running head first into battle to dismantle the enemy's Beacon, an enchanted item that strengthens magical spells for a certain radius, gave him high respect within the kingdom The blast should've killed him, but his quick work in casting a shield kept him alive. In the aftermath of the battle, he was granted an award for his bravery and promoted to be one of the queen's high mages. 

With tales of bravery to paint his story, Lucien Rex was considered one of the most beautiful jewels in the queen's crown. Lucien passed his training with flying colors and was made the Archmage of Morrow at just 25 years old. Lucien was wise beyond his years and was a valuable asset and voice within the high council for many years. 

At the age of 32, Lucien went along with other diplomats from Morrow to facilitate relations with King Duren of Analucia. Lucien's role was to offer his services as a mage and showcase what magic Morrow could give if need be. Because of this display of his work, it was no secret that Lucien was an expert on magic and the sorts. Very quickly did the Analucians become enamored with Lucien, just like the elves of Morrow had. So too did King Duren. In fact, they spent many hours together, learning of one another's magic and sharing spells on a master level. A bond formed between them, and Lucien could see a growth in trust between them.

However, the eyes Duren used to look upon Lucien were anything but ones of admiration.

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Darkness of Light by Succession Studios

"Archmage Lucien!"

Lucien turned around, his cloak billowing around him and his legs as he faced King Duren. Lucien had been in Analucia for a few weeks at this point, and as far as he could tell, everything was going well. "Your Highness," Lucien replied with a gentle grin before bowing with a hand over his chest. His other palm clutched his spell book. "I was just heading to the palace library for studies. Is there something you need?" Lucien asked as he pushed a midnight blue lock of hair behind his pierced ear.

The dim hallway candlelight flickered across the king's aged features. He was an elf as well, with pointed ears and sharp features. Though he was young for an elf, his black hair had begun to gray. With a relaxed tone, the king replied, "Yes, there is, in fact." 

Lucien turned his body more, now facing the king fully out of respect. "Yes, Your Majesty, I am at your service." 

King Duren stared hard at Lucien, so much so that Lucien tilted his head a bit with a bit of confusion as the light dimmed in the king's eyes. Lucien watched as King Duren glanced around for a moment before approaching him just slightly. The hallway suddenly felt far more empty than it did before. "Lucien, might I ask you something...a bit more personal?"

Silence permeated the air like a thick and suffocating fog. What an odd question, and from a king no less. Lucien shifted on his feet just slightly. "I...don't see why not, King Duren. What is it?"

"Your skill for magic is immeasurable, Lucien. You know this, correct?"

"Well," Lucien laughed. "I am a humble man, but yes. I am Morrow's Archmage, after all."

"But don't you feel like something is missing?"

Lucien frowned slightly. "Missing? Your Majesty, I'm not sure I'm following."
The king laughed just a little. The torches that lit the hallway flickered. He stepped around Lucien and held out his arms. "You've seen what Analucia has become. What it has achieved! The Auric Plains were once Mygoth, and the Sarlac Sea is ours after establishing the city of Darvik on the other side. We've prospered. We've conquered. Your powers, Lucien, are meant for... opportunities."

Lucien took a step back from the king with wide eyes, his hand now clutching his book tighter to his chest. "Your Majesty, what are you asking of me?"

"To join me." King Duren held out a hand. "Morrow could be ours. No more would you be just a servant to a queen, but you could rule a whole kingdom. With my power and your magic, we could be so much more. Think of what we could do if we did it together."

Adrenaline made Lucien's blood run cold. He stared firmly at Duren's icy blue eyes with nothing but pure dismay. "As if I would ever betray my country! And for what? Senseless, bloody conquest!? We are here to forge peace between our lands, not sow the seeds for war!!"

Duren's face twisted into a scowl. Perhaps that should've been the first sign, but Lucien continued. "I will be notifying the council of this! Alliances will not be forged on a foundation of treachery!!" Lucien stepped away from the king, his teeth clenched and his heart pounding.

A long pause accompanied by a soulless stare from Duren proceeded to torture Lucien. After a few agonizing moments, Duren spoke in a quite rumble of a voice. "So be it. Lucien Rex, what a lovely name...but soon forgotten."

"What are you talking about?" Lucien whispered, his voice dropping to his lower register.

The hallway dimmed. Duren balled his fists at his sides. "All you had to do was take my hand."

A mystical chain forged from red light shot out of the ground and wrapped around Lucien's free arm. He gasped as the weight of it yanked him off his balance. Red runes began to glow all along the walls and floor as the ground beneath him opened up with an enchantment circle. "What is this!?"

"All you had to do was take my hand, Lucien Rex!!" Duren repeated, his voice a harrowing taunt as he stepped closer.

Lucien felt a panic bubble in his chest. Spells began to fly out from his lips in rapid succession, but nothing manifested. No walls of fire, no blasts of ice, no wards from beyond the grave to do his bidding. Every word he spoke fell from his lips like ash rather than sparking to life with the spirit of magic. Another ghostly chain flung through the cobblestone floor and wrapped around his other arm, causing him to drop his spellbook. "Why isn't my magic working!? What have you done!?"

A deep-throated chuckle warmed the king's throat as he walked forward. "Oh, Lucien. Did you really think I would face off with the most talented mage across all the Seven Sisters and not have a few tricks up my sleeve?" The king grasped Lucien's chin as the chains began to slowly pull him down to the floor, each link slowly phasing through the cobble. "You've lost."

"You won't get away with this," Lucien hissed, his fangs catching the lowlight as he did so. "They'll come looking for me!!"

King Duren picked up Lucien's spell book as Lucien himself began to phase through the ground. Duren dusted the book off before looking down at Lucien as his torso and arms became shrouded in red light, and he began to disappear beneath the floor. The last thing Lucien saw was a soulless gaze from Duren, with pupils black as night. "We'll see about that."

Lucien let out a cry of complete vexation that echoed across the empty hall, only for it all to go silent as his head dipped beneath the palace, his screams swallowed by the cobble.

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Evil Returns by Myuu

content warning: gore

All Lucien felt as he awoke was cold metal against his skin.

He groaned softly as his head began to pound as though his head were a bell and his pain were the mallet. He tried to lift a hand to rub at his eyes but it became apparent rather quickly that his wrists and arms were held down, his ankles too. Lucien opened his eyes only to be blinded by a bright white light. He thrashed around, his chest rising and falling with complete and utter panic as he tried to take in his surroundings.

"Calm down, you're safe," Said a familiar voice.

Lucien looked down at his body. He was tied in place to a steel examination table with nothing but his trousers on. He looked up and immediately locked eyes with none other than King Duren himself. "Where are we?" Lucien spat. "What are you going to do to me!?"

A cold laugh came out of Duren. It was the same laughter that Lucien had heard several thousands of times, but it now had an entirely new meaning. It had frozen over. "Oh, you say that like you didn't ask for it, Lucien. I wasn't going to just let you leave without giving me something. I deserve it after your disrespect."

The light was too bright to allow Lucien to see the rest of his room, but he could smell the sterile stench of alcohol. Beside him was a steel cart with various tools on it. Clamps, scissors, a saw, a scalpel...

"You wanted me to commit treason!" Lucien hissed. He began to chant more spells, but just like before, they invoked no reaction.

"Your magic is no use here, Lucien. The walls were built with paralysis runes. Try as you might, but no power but my own shall manifest in this room."

Lucien threw his head back against the examination table. He felt tears sting his eyes. How could he be so stupid? How did he not see it all before?

A cold hand touched his cheek. Lucien opened his eyes to see Duren's widened pupils boring holes into his orange irises. "We could have been something, Lucien. What a shame. But I'll still achieve completion of one of my greatest projects."

Lucien recoiled at the feeling of Duren's hand. He pulled his chin away from it. "What is that?"

Duren leaned in and whispered with a wild smile. "Complete subservience."

Lucien's eyes widened. "Is that what you want? An enchantment? I could've helped you! Certainly, you knew that!"

But something told Lucien already that Duren did indeed know that. Full well, in fact.

"Ah, Lucien. I have been studying this field of the arcana for many a decade, even you, an Archmage of legend could not find me the solution, but it doesn't matter. I have already cracked the code. The answer is you."

An itch to move, to burst out of the metal clamps bolted down Lucien's back. Fear made Lucien's bones rattle as he watched a deep black fog engulf the king. "What are you doing? What in the goddess' names are you doing?!"

"If I can't have your magic in word..." Duren picked up the saw from the cart, eyes slowly turning a crimson red. "Then I will have it in spirit. And a piece of you forever, too."

Duren lifted the saw before jabbing it into Lucien's chest. Lucien let out a scream of pure agony as blood pooled from his chest with every draw of Duren's serrated blade. He could hear his own bones crack, yet somehow, he did not die. Salty tears trailed out of the corners of his eyes as he wailed and his body tightened beneath the clamps, completely unable to writhe in his pain. The black fog that swarmed Duren entered Lucien's open chest cavity and filled the space between his muscles and bones and organs, all while Duren soullessly flayed open Lucien's skin, using clamps to keep it back. The fog was keeping him alive, just long enough so that he didn't bleed out or pass from pure agony.

Lucien couldn't say a word. Torment had rendered him incapable of nothing but screams of complete horror.

"Your soul is special, Lucien!! So special, did you think I would let you get away!? Did you think I would let you leave my palace to be free, that I would let Morrow be some peaceful alliance!? Where is the power in that!?" 

Lucien felt Duren's fingers hold onto his beating heart. The king's face was covered in his blood.

"It took me years, but I found it, I finally found it!! Who would've known that a mage's soul is the most powerful ingredient of them all!?" 

The feeling of all the fires of hell erupted in Lucien's chest as Duren pulled his hand back. With gasping, choking breaths, he laid teary eyes on his own heart in Duren's hand, its arteries spurting blood.

"May your spirit forever act through nothing but my will and command, for I am your new god!!"

Orange light filled Lucien's eyes and spilled from his mouth as his jaw dropped in one grizzly scream. A few moments of endless agony gave way to nothing more than a ghastly-sounding exhale that dragged out of Lucien as an orange haze floated from out of his eyes and lips, swirling and swirling in a spiral to encapsulate his heart in Duren's hand.

The light of life began to dim. There was no angels' chorus to welcome him into the arms of death, nothing but Duren's tormenting chants as he slipped away into a void of darkness. And then, all was silent.

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Untitled #9 - Smaskifa 1

"Lucien was a blessing."

Clouds covered the sky that day in the cemetery.

"I learned much from him in the time that he was here. Though it was a short stay, the palace walls felt lighter with his presence. He was a joy to be around. My heart is heavy knowing that someone would dare to take that away from us. From me. From Analucia and Morrow. But hear me when I say, his assassin will be captured and brought to justice!!"

Sobs echoed from the massive crowd of Morrowians and Analucians. A pyre lay upon the altar with a body beneath a deep blue tarp embroidered with white stars and mage runes. White lilies and roses bordered the body, each one firm and well-kept.

Eyes lifted to look at King Duren who stood before it all. "It is my greatest honor to speak before all of you. I will fight for Lucien in his death, for no one deserves this fate, especially not a man of his respect. But for now...we say goodbye."

Duren lit the sacrificial torch as a man and woman along with six other elves, two children, two teenagers, and two adults.

The woman collapsed by the pyre and wailed. The man got down to his knees beside her and clutched her close as the little children joined her in tears. "My baby," She cried, her hands gripping the pyre. "Please, Luci, please come back!!"

Duren sighed as he approached the crying couple. "You have my condolences, Mister and Missus Rex. Your son was cherished."

Sobs and whimpers still permeated the air.

"Maeve...we must let him go," whispered Vaeril.

"He's our only son."

"I know."

Maeve lifted her head and looked Duren in the eye with tears in her own. She was the spitting image of Lucien, like looking at a portrait. "The diplomats...they said you two spent time together. What was he like...? In his final days?" Maeve whispered. Duren was kind. He had been nothing but kind.

"Your son was happy. I taught him spells, and he taught me too. Your son was a force to be reckoned with, and I am forever in his debt, Missus Rex. I have never met a man more intelligent and kind than he. You raised him well." Duren put a hand on her shoulder with a small smile. But at that moment, a darkness seemed to spiral in his eyes that brought Maeve more uncertainty than it did comfort. She found herself tensing up beneath Duren's grip.

Duren pulled away as Vaeril held her tight. A few moments passed before Maeve held out a weak arm for the torch that Duren still extended to her. The warm wood was placed into her hand, and she, Vaeril, and their children took a step back. She held the torch out to the pyre and spoke in Morrow. "May we see each other again, my sweet child. May your story still echo in the calm of the night and the flicker of a flame. Though this pyre may separate us, our spirits shall remain intertwined through bonds forged in stardust. Sargana bless you and embrace you till the end of time."

A sigh whisked away from King Duren as he looked at Maeve again. "Your son...was a delightfully powerful man. He could move mountains, part the seas even. With him, our countries would be unstoppable. You should be proud."

Maeve pursed her lips and stifled a sob as she tilted the torch forward with a shaky hand. But something stopped her from allowing it to touch the coffin. Her eyes squinted as she stared at the torch, the casket, and its white flowers...and then to Duren. Maeve shook her head at him. "No...you're wrong. Lucien...he wasn't powerful. He could do those things because...because he was gentle." 

Duren stared at her. "Of course."

Maeve arm slowly went slack as she approached Duren with the torch still in hand. The way the king spoke of her son, it was like he didn't know him at all. And that awoke something within her. "He...protected us and all of Morrow. Not for power, not because he wanted to gain anything, but because he cared for our family, his family. Is that what you make of him? A...a means to an end?" 

Thunder rumbled in the sky and deep within Maeve's eyes as she slowly squinted them. "This...this isn't my son."

Duren tilted his head. "What?"
"This...this isn't my son!!" Maeve held the torch out to Duren, its flames flying as a burning, looming threat of wrath. "Let me see his face, why can't I see his face!?"

Duren held his hands up as the guards immediately held their spears up toward Maeve. Vaeril desperately held his wife back and tried to remove the torch from her hand, "Maeve, please-!"
"If he's my son, why can't I see his face!? I need to see it!!"

"That isn't a sight you want to see, Miss Rex, it isn't," said Duren, his voice calm. Unsettling.

"I don't care, open the casket, open it now!!" Maeve sobbed, her veins popping from her neck as tears poured down her cheeks. 

The crowd gasped in horror. They thought they were watching a hysterical woman, but in reality, they were watching a woman who deeply loved her only son. Maeve dropped the torch, its flames licking the midnight blue fabric over the casket. 

As Vaeril and a guard held Maeve back, Duren picked up the torch. "Grief is a powerful thing, Miss Rex, that I understand. You poor thing."

The only response King Duren received was an agonized scream from Maeve, who then fell to the ground with Vaeril still holding her.

"Mister Rex, do you mind?" Duren said as he held up the torch as though it were just a torch, not a send-off to the underworld for a deeply loved man. Vaeril stared at him with tears in his eyes as Maeve fell further to the ground with wails and sobs, her fists gripping the grass and her children surrounding her. Vaeril didn't know it. But he felt it too.

"P-Please, I-"

Before Vaeril could finish his sentence, King Duren threw the torch onto the casket like he was throwing a stone over a lake. The fabric caught flame and turned the flowers to ash in an instant. Vaeril stared as the flames erupted, its heat feeling like a manifestation of the hell that had been brought upon him and his family. The children sobbed as they held onto one another in an attempt to replace the comfort their brother would have provided if he were there. But there was no more comforting that Lucien could give, no more laughter, no more tricks or advice or brotherly annoyances. Nothing.

He was dead. All his family could do was cry and wonder. Rain poured down, but the pyre stayed lit like a beacon of light, a refusal to die. And all Duren did was stare.

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Moonlit Melody by SIE Sound Team 

"Awaken."

Light. Blinding light. A scratchy groan, a feeling of absolute nothingness.

"Awaken, so that I may see my creation come to life!"

A whisper of pain pierced their head, but then it was gone. They thought they could hear...something, a scream of sorts, but it was gone too. They sat up with a hand to their head before pulling it away and gazing upon their own palms made of yellowed linen. 

"You're perfect, all these months of work, and finally, you're perfect."

"...who are you? Who am I?"

"Your creator." A man within the shadows of the blinding light approached closer and made himself seen. "I am King Duren. And you...are Vox."

Vox lifted their palms to their face, but no feeling or sensation was felt upon their fingertips. In fact, they truly felt nothing. No cold, no heat, no hunger or thirst, no pain or comfort. Nothing. They lifted their palm up to their eyes, and the world went entirely dark. King Duren laughed for a moment, grabbed a hand mirror from a metal cart, and held it up to Vox. "I suppose I can let you at least see what you look like. After all, I worked so hard on you."

Vox gazed upon the looking glass. In the mirror was a man made of nothing but linen, like a mummy. They had a singular eye, which was really only a gap in the linen and an orange orb of light that floated within. Strips of linen cascaded over their shoulders and meticulously layered like hair. They had a slit for a mouth, and in their chest was a giant gap with a larger orb of orange light that swirled within like it had a life of its own. But Vox wouldn't know that, the vibrancy of their colors, because they couldn't perceive color. Everything was black, white, or a murky gray between. Vox themself was hollow, like linen wrapped around nothing but air, with runes written on the inner lining of their linen in a red substance.

"What...what am I?" Vox whispered as they looked at Duren. "I-I'm...I think I am afraid--"

"You are nothing."

In an instant, Duren was mere inches from Vox's face, with sharp fingers gripping Vox's jaw. "You were a treacherous monster and I have given you new life. You will obey me and my command. I will allow you just this once to feel but just know that any emotions are remnants of your past of being a murderer. And you don't want to be that, do you?"

Vox hardly knew anything, but they knew monster and murderer. They didn't know how or why, they just did. Though fear made their chest glow brighter, they kept their linen lips shut.

"If I hear you speak of such emotions ever again..." Duren lifted his flame-engulfed hand, its sparks coming dangerously close to Vox's linen. An ember fell and singed their foot, and for a second, they felt warm. "I will incinerate you. Do you understand?'

"Y-Yes, sir."

"That's Your Highness. Never forget it."

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"Today I present to you one of the strongest inventions of magic this world has ever seen!"

Duren's voice echoed across the plaza, followed by a loud cheer from just about every citizen in the city of Kyr. He stood upon the palace balcony with outstretched arms and reveled in the joyous sound, each bit of it filling his veins with volatile pride. "For the past several months, I have been slaving away in my chambers to bring you all a protector, a loyal servant to Analucia to keep us safe! Made with enchantments never before seen to any mortal eye, I present to you, Vox."

Vox stepped forward to the edge of the balcony and quietly looked upon the crowd below, a sea of gray hues who all cheered for them, but it all felt hollow. They slowly looked to King Duren with an unwavering eye beneath their wide brim hat.

"With all the sentience of any mortal, but just as obedient as a guard dog, Vox will follow my every command with strength and magic that knows no bounds! I masterfully crafted him with the tenacity of a mortal and the sharp eye of a hawk. Using his fine-crafted flintlocks, Vox will hit any target from several meters away."

Vox slowly one of his flintlocks from the holster on his right hip and raised out.

"Across the plaza on the palace wall is a guard holding a target no bigger than his head. Vox? Show them what you can do."

Silence filled the plaza. Some people turned to look at the target on the palace wall held by the guard while others stared at Vox with wonder. Bird chirps sounded in the distance, but Vox paid no mind as he lifted his gun just slightly, his lighted eye creasing as he stared at the minuscule target across the plaza.

A loud bang echoed as he fired. The crowd gasped and turned to look at the guard, whose arms had gone slack just slightly as if afraid that he would be hit, but he looked up to see a singular bullet hole in the target. He cheered, and the crowd followed suit. Laughter erupted from Duren as he slammed a hand on Vox's shoulder, sending Vox off his balance for a moment. Vox looked over at him before glancing towards the crowd.

Duren told him not to think. Not to feel. Not to question. But Vox could not deny the feeling that had plagued him since his birth.

None of them know that I am a monster.

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Not All Who Wander Are Lost - Axe & Ale

Vox has been Duren's loyal servant for forty-three years. He works hard to keep Analucia safe by taking on the most dangerous bounties and doing whatever the king asks of him. Though King Duren was loved by the people, Vox saw a whole other side of him that the people of Analucia had not even the faintest clue about. Vox asked only once more about his origins, but his answer was several hours of torture in a circle of fire with nothing but threats from Duren that he would burn him alive if he asked again. From then on, Vox became deathly afraid of the flame, knowing that all it took was a mere ember to set him ablaze.

Vox had many successful bounties under his belt considering how dutifully he followed orders. Eventually, he even gained the King's trust to stand in council meetings and give input when asked. His experience out in the field was no match to those who sat prim and proper behind palace walls. However, if Vox ever made a mistake, he was again locked behind the circle of flames until Duren thought he had enough. Vox couldn't feel it. He could not cry, bandages cannot form tears. He could only be afraid. And sometimes, even though he had no need to breathe, he felt as though he were suffocating. The emptiness of having no soul, or what he was thought to believe, made him feel like a void within had grown stronger.

And sometimes, when the moon was high and everyone else had gone to sleep, Vox would be haunted by flash images in his head of faceless children and happy laughter. They felt like memories, but memories of what? The children held his hand in those memories, and their hands were made of dark flesh and tattooed with white ink. Now, they are linen. Not a mortal. Vox was not given the mercy of an answer, only the grief and mourning that came with a life they felt like they had lost and no one to turn to. When Vox was out on their journeys, they would sometimes entertain the curious children by giving them flowers or returning a ball until their parents shooed them away from the "strange creature." They was a marvel, but no companion was to be made from them.

So Vox drifts in the dark of the night. No, not sleep, a simple slip away from the world where they float in vast nothingness in the confines of their consciousness until they are called upon again for work. Here, they are safe. They can think freely but worry only about what they were before.

What monster were they? What crimes did they commit? Who did they hurt? And why on earth would a monster ever deserve a second chance?

So they worked. They worked and they slaved and they did everything that Duren asked, because maybe, just maybe, it would absolve them of the sins they knew not of. Perhaps their anguish and their distress were punishment enough, and their obedience was the only price they could pay.

  ╸𝘍𝘈𝘊𝘛 : He cannot taste anything other than whiskey, and strangely enough, pumpkin bread. He’ll never admit it, but this fact alone makes him have a sweet tooth. Vox does no yet know that these are reminders of his life as Lucien. Whiskey was his signature drink, and pumpkin bread was his favorite baked good from his mother.

╸𝘍𝘈𝘊𝘛 : Vox admires the painters and potters who do their work for the palace. As he stands off to the side only to silently observe, he secretly wishes to try it. He has a strange attraction to the thought of working with his hands in such a delicate way, whether painting or sculpting. Not only would Duren never allow it, but his linen hands would only ruin the work and get damaged in the process. 

╸𝘍𝘈𝘊𝘛 : Vox is sometimes overwhelmed with full fits of grief, despair, and loss. It comes out of nowhere, usually when he’s most alone or overwhelmed by something. Usually in a social setting when there are too many people around him, too many sounds. Yet he can’t cry, and Vox doesn’t know who he’s crying for.

╸𝘍𝘈𝘊𝘛 : Vox uses double flintlock handguns, powered by enchantment, but is skilled with other enchanted firearms.

╸𝘍𝘈𝘊𝘛 : ━ his design was completely inspired by the wrath skin from fortnite lmaooo 💀

The low hum of a tavern was always comforting to Vox. Though they wished they could visit a tavern under normal circumstances, it simply couldn't be. King Duren had given Vox a new bounty. When Vox was inside the palace walls, they were not allowed to do anything unless the king ordered them to. However, during the days they were permitted outside the palace on a bounty, they could do as they pleased. That included sitting in a tavern and enjoying a nice, secret glass of whiskey, one of only two things they could taste. The smooth flavor settled well with the gentle playing and singing of the bard in the corner, his lute a calm lullaby to all the patrons. The sun was setting, the lantern lights were beginning to intensify, and long shadows were being cast in dark corners. A lullaby for a tavern of weary travelers was rather fitting.

The tavern's swinging doors open, causing the room to go silent.

"I'm lookin' for Vox."

Vox did not move from their place at the bar, but the voice continued.

"I'll bet on my mama's grave and a griffon's wing that that's you. Right over there. Mummy man, isn't it?"
Vox slowly lifted their head before glancing over their shoulder with their one, vibrant orange eye. Standing in the doorway was a man their size wearing a ragged hooded cape. He removed his hood to reveal pointed ears, red eyes, black hair, and a face covered in scars. Vox slowly looked back at their glass and threw the remaining whiskey back, its contents causing the glow in their chest to shine brighter for a moment. They slowly stood and stared at the elf from beneath their wide-brimmed hat.

"That's funny," Vox said. "I just so happen to be looking for you too."

The elf scoffed and waved their hand. "Psh, don't flatter me. I'm here 'cuz I heard You've been forcing your way around these parts. You know, somewhere you don't belong? Sure you already knew that though, you freak."

"Not forcing my way," Vox insisted. "Just been searching. But that search is over."
"Huh. Is that so?"

"Mhm. Xerxis Argo, you're wanted by the decree of King Duren of Analucia for arson, robbery, and murder under the first degree. Now...we can make this easy, and I'll bring you in hot." Vox stood up on their feet with a straight back, their frame tall and solid. They slowly lifted their hand and placed it on the hilt of one of their golden flintlocks that sat in its holster on their waist. "But I'm not a stranger to bringing bounties in cold."

The elf called Xerxis let out a laugh that sent a chill throughout the room. It washed across the tavern patrons like a wave, but Vox seemed to melt it all down and soak it all up like nothing. "Well, Mr. Mummy. If you're here for me, then let's take this outside. Wouldn't want you shooting up my favorite tavern."

Vox tilted his head a little and glanced at the reasonably tense patrons. One thing he couldn't tell though was whether they were tense because of 

the elf...or themself. So Vox stepped out with the elf, who moved out of the way to give them a clear path. But Vox's hand remained firmly on their holster. The cobblestone street was vacated immediately. People took shelter in the storefronts or their homes. It was like a plague had run through, leaving nothing but ghosts and spirits and wandering eyes to watch what was about to happen.

Footsteps echoed across the empty space as Vox and their bounty stood out in the cobbled street. They both knew exactly what was about to happen.

"You traveled quite a way, sir," Said Xerxis as he messed with his metal gauntlets. The gems on the inside of his palms glowed a red hue. That was enough for Vox to know that he was a firemaster. Maybe this might be a challenge. "Sure you think you can take me down?"

"Tough talk for a runaway," Vox replied.

Judging by the look on Xerxis' face, he didn't seem to like that. "Oh, and what's a one-eyed freak like you gonna do to me? I thought the king would send his best!"

A shot rang out. Vox had pulled out their flintlock and fired so fast that it didn't even quite register for Xerxis, and their surprise was delayed. Vox's arm was held straight out at their side, aimed at a building to their right. A man fell off the roof, his bow and arrow falling with him. Vox didn't even have to look to land a shot right in his head.

Vox slowly looked up at Xerxis with the glow of their eye pulsating. "You'd be surprised what I can do with just one."

Vox could see the whites of Xerxis' eyes. Vox tilted their head a little. "Still wanna go in cold?"

Xerxis lifted his arm to fire his gauntlet, but Vox was too quick. 

Their arm moved in a flash.

 Another shot rang out before the street was awash in silence once more. The cobblestone street was painted crimson, and Xerxis was thrown back to the ground. Vox's shoulders relaxed. With a quick spin of their flintlock, they holstered their gun. Their one glowing, orange eye floated around, examining the empty streets, until slowly...the streets filled again. The people came out, eyes wide with surprise, yet a strange mix of relief too. 

With only silence as their applause, Vox walked forward and quietly removed the rune necklace from Xerxis dead body, a symbol of the country of Morrow, before pocketing it. All they had to do now was go home and complete the bounty.

All for no reward at all, no praise, no relief. Only continued servitude.