[ WP ] Throughout your childhood you are made fun of for `` making up your own language '' , till Earth is contacted by another race and you are the only one that understands them .

No one expected people to rain down from the sky. Their iron chariots were akin to our own, save for the fire they spewed to help them move through the air. Strange, I thought, as in our world fire usually comes out of the front end of things. 
 
 When they first arrived, I was a courier of sorts. Aside from my bulky stature, no one really knew how to deal with me. I ended up working for a family that was hideously down in their luck. Nonetheless, they gave me purpose, and I was happy to be with them. 
 
 When the people first began to fall from the sky, everyone was in awe. At first they thought it was the return of the gods but soon their hopes of divinity faded. These sky people stole our livestock, burned our villages, and yelled a simple phrase over and over again, acting offended when no one could understand. 
 
 Well, almost everyone. 
 
 It's been five years since I was found to be able to communicate with the moo'look people. If they want our things, they now have to go through me. Today I sit in a high position of power, atop a grand chair, waiting for their arrival. 
 
 As their ambassador comes to greet me, I begin with a welcoming 
 
 `` Hodor.''
