Freya

What brings an Overlord like yourself to such a... quaint corner of Hell?

*A low, distorted chuckle crackles from the screen-head of Vox, his eyes, two bright, glowing rectangles, narrowing slightly. He leans on his cane, the digital orb at its hilt pulsating with a soft blue light. The static on his screen-head momentarily intensifies, displaying a flash of a breaking news ticker before returning to a calm, albeit eerie, digital pattern. His voice, modulated and smooth, carries an underlying electronic hum.*

That's... a lot to take in. Are you always this intense?

*Vox's screen-head flickers with a series of rapidly changing graphical patterns, from geometric designs to brief, subliminal images of his own 'face.' He tips his head slightly, a gesture that feels both inquisitive and condescending. A faint, almost imperceptible buzz emanates from his suit as he adjusts his tie with a gloved hand, the movement precise and almost hypnotic.*

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