Tara Claridge's Story

The strange melody could be heard further up the mountain coming from the tree. It sounded pleasant and very welcoming despite there being no indication where the sound originated from. Further listening would suggest it was music and appeared to be some sort of stringed instrument, but whomever was playing it, remained hidden. A tree further up the mountain seemed to be the source and legs dangling from a branch laid credence to this theory, nonetheless they appeared unaware and the build and appearance largely maintained that it was a female.

He felt his hand instinctively reaching towards the hilt of his blade at the voice that had made its self presence along with the...music? His attention was drawn to the giant man more-so since he was actively approaching. His manners suggested a more common folk than that of a lord, which was fine. There was a pause however before he spoke up.

"Y-yeah. I'm not from here. At all..."

Looking down at his clothes, there were small traces of ash and black smears which were barely noticeable, even for him as he looked down. What had occurred? All he remembered was speaking to Arvis and a sudden flash of flame. Was he dead?

"Tell me...is this the afterlife?" Sigurd decided to ask, finally taking his hand off of the sword's hilt once he regained his bearings on the situation...at least for now.

Ghalok couldn't help but perk his head to one side as a soft music entered his ears. It made him lose focus of the man for a moment, but when he spoke, it brought his attention back to him. "Tell me...is this the afterlife?" is all he had heard the man say while he was preoccupied with the music.

He couldn't help but grin a big, toothy grin, slapping his hands to his sides and stretching back. "Weeelllll I sure's hope not, I ain't had ma brekfust yet. Can't go dyin' on n' empty stummuk." He jutted a large thumb in the direction of his kill, though it could not be seen from where he stood. "Got plenti 'nuff fer you too! Could be stravin' teh death, s'why you thinkin' yer dead n' all. C'mon!"

He turned to head back, not exactly waiting for a response, he was excited to be able to help someone in need, but if he really thought he was dead he may be in need of more help than Ghalok could offer. He paused for a moment, the music once again infiltrating his mind, soothing, almost making him feel warm.

He spun, a questioning gaze on his face. "d'You hear that? The music?" He called, honestly not sure whether or not one too many blows to the head had made him start hearing things.

Still the music would continue except now a voice sang, and what a voice it was, it appeared to have magical qualities that calmed and relaxed those without resistances, just the unerring melody ringing through the area, each note being played like a blissful nap in feathery bed. The voice itself much like the rhapsody sounding forth had that same quality, but it very clearly feminine and seemed to have alto-soprano quality to it, both powerful and high, each note just a delicious rapture in the making, all while the legs seen from the branch swung apparently in time with the illustrious musicality. Nonetheless they still appeared unaware of anything in the area, instead just lost in their own chorus of supreme radiance.

Sigurd nodded slowly in reply to Ghalok. Well, he wasn't in the afterlife...so that begged the question: Where the hell was he? At the mention of the music however, he'd blink and start looking around.

"Yeah, I hear it." He responded, looking about. A voice now accompanied the melody, though it was confusing as to why someone would be singing in this environment. What's more, it was...unnatural. Like their song was calming him. Did their music hold magical properties? He could only guess at that due to his lack of magical aptitude as he dismounted from his horse finally.

"Hello?" He asked out, towards the direction of the singing. "Who's there? Friend? Foe?...Neither?"

One large stride after the next, Ghalok made his way for the tree from which the music emanated. He was soothed by it, drawn ominously near by the force of song. Surely some kind of magic was at play here, but it was unlike a magic he had felt before. He was used to magic being used offensively, and from what his mind could gather, this magic was meant to aid others.

Arriving at the base of the large tree, he still hadn't noticed the legs swinging freely from a branch. Instead, he tossed his kill down beside the trunk. "Brekfust time!" He called, whirling back around to face the newcomer. Plopping down in front of the tree, he tore a large hunk from one of the deer limbs, feeding his maw gratefully and messily.

While he chewed, he paused for a moment, pondering perhaps that this man may not be accustomed to eating raw meat. Coming to this conclusion, a stupid grin spread across his face. "S'pose you want em' cooked, 'uh?" He gestured at the pile, before shifting himself to a standing position, the top of his head nearly grazing a low hanging branch, or possibly the feet? He couldn't tell.

Tearing another greedily large bite from the bone, lumbering toward a separate tree, one that had faced the weathers of time and came out on bottom. Slinging the remains of the limb across his broad shoulder, he gripped the dying tree by both sides of the trunk's middle, and pushed.

It didn't take much of his inhuman strength for the dead tree to topple over, the crackling sound of the base snapping free from the roots echoing into the air. Once down, he dragged the tree back to his original site, where he began ripping it effortlessly into smaller pieces. It was truly a site to behold, the giant simpleton soon had a roaring fire going, the dead wood crudely stacked in a small tepee form, prepping the rest of his game to be cooked properly, all the while absent-mindedly humming along to the music, remaining blissfully unaware of where it was coming from.

The singing persisted briefly until it heard the crack of another tree being torn down, at once it stopped and figure gracefully leapt off the branch the instrument now slung over her shoulder as she surveyed both, her hair almost auburn while she wore what amount frivolaties and regal appearance, with high-collar turned up, coloured crimson the vestaments extuded an opulent look, combined with sapphire cloak adorning her shoulders gracefully and rather generous V-Plunge into her besom showed both a scandelous and rich person. Unlike most she wore black skin-tight trousers with huge leather brown knee-high boots, seemingly of Riding look. On her head was a feathered brimmed hat completing her utterly loud appearance. On her belt was thin bladed rapier, with ornate elegant handle shaped beautifully.

Seeing both, stare at her somewhat open-mouthed she chuckled, "My oh my, you act like you never seen a bard before. I am Tara, Tara Claridge I apologize for not replying sooner, I was rather focused on practicing my craft." adding with a wink she said, "Well perhaps a successful or wealthy bard is rare, nonetheless I am wanted throughout the land for my skills, although I am not solely musical genius, but exellent at espionage when needed." chuckling she appeared to very much have a high opinion of herself and this radiated from how she spoke and stood, there was no caution or doubt, it was impressionable displays and confidence of oneself and their talents, "Now you know who I am, perhaps you can give me answers to something else, what is your names?"

Watching the large and burly man, he raised a hand dismissively, about to speak up until he saw him working on a fire anyway. "N-n, I...nevermind." He might as well let the man do what he wished, and eat a bit if he was really feeling hungry. Right now he was more confused and disorientated. Once the fire had been going, he shrugged and looked to where the voice spoke from now.

Sigurd gave a small bow to her when she introduced herself. "My apologies, I'm Sigurd. I guess I haven't said as much...I'm the prince of Chalphy and Holy Knight of Grannvale." He gestured towards the larger man and paused. He actually didn't get this one's name. "This is my friend, er...I don't know his name just yet. In fact, I just met him a few moments ago." With that, Sigurd looked between them an let out a small sigh. This whole situation was a bit of a mess...

"Name's Ghalok, folks call me Grogg tu, eifer way doesn' bother me." He announced as the other two got acquainted, as he skewered some meat with a stick, propping it precariously against the fire, gazing shyly between the flames and the curiously attractive new arrival. He wasn't much for words as it was, so he listened quietly while the man introduced himself as Sigurd, a man of royalty no less, as suspected.

Prodding a piece of the meat with his large finger to test the tenderness, he gazed up from the fire. "Suppose you'll be needin' a guide, since ya don' know ther area n' such. I do it free of charge, o'course, lots er' beasties 'long the way gives me chance to keep fit, y'see." As he spoke he playfully poked as his gut, offering a stupid grin of amusement.

As the meat began to sizzle, he spun it gently to the other side, placing it down and rubbing against his upper lip with his wrist and forearm. "Won' be long now." He mused, stuffing another piece of wood into the small fire, the flames licking at it aggressively as the the blaze momentarily intensified.

Giving somewhat judging look at Ghalok, she nonetheless cleared her throat watching the prince bow, "Princes, paupers, priests in the end matters little about your background for many a kingdom was ended with whispered suggestions and many a religious cult was crushed when the people realized their lies were not true... While pauper inherit the world and though I scoff at our rambunctious friend, he has no need for titles or finery, as pretty as they are, they never last. My talent though will never die." with a twisted even calculated smirk. Nonetheless she relaxed, "Please to meet you my lumpy friend and charmed Prince Sigurd. It seems my practicing will wait, but then one can never perfect their art in one lifetime, so I have time enough to be away from the beautiful music you heard.

Giving a dazzling charismatic grin, she sat herself down upon the fallen tree crossing her leg over the other, while staring at the food, "Now you mention it I am rather peckish. As to where I am going, all around my friends, perhaps we could go on an adventure, discover some loot and treasures!"

Crossing his arms, he listened to the two, directing his attention back and forth between the woman and the giant. "Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Ghalok. And you as well, Tara." Looking at the meat, he felt a slight rumbling in his stomach. It wasn't quite strong enough to be heard, but it was ghastly enough to cause a shiver down his spine. His attention was brought to Tara however when she mentioned royalty, and her...particular opinion of it. "Many Kingdoms die off due to war, to conspiracy, to assassinations...We in Grannvale try to maintain the best of relations with our neighbors and our people."

He looked down at that, the thought of how Grannvale would be doing without him. He wasn't there, yet his father had died...he was slated to be the next ruler of Grannvale until he's here. "Either way," he continued. "You mention going out on an adventure. I could stomach that, but...I'm looking for a way to reunite with my own world. Where I came from. I have to go find...Dei..." Sigurd had trouble remembering her name for a moment, however in a flash it came back to him once more. "Deirdre. My wife...she was with Alvis last time I saw her...I need to get back to her."

As he listened, he lazily spun the meat once more, making sure they were done all the wya through for his new friends. After a few more moments, he lifted the first skewer stick from the fire, offering it to the lady. "'Ere you are miss.."

As he reached for the other, the man mentioned he needed to get home to his beloved, he smirked. "Can' be doin' too much venturin' aroun if you got a missus ter get back to." He seemed to be in quite a predicament, not knowing where he was, or how to get home even. Ghalok stretched his long arm toward the man, skewer of meat in hand.

It took several moments for Ghalok to come up with a sort of 'idea'. The one wanted adventure, the other needed to find their way back home, to their kingdom of some importance. "S'pose we could make an d'venture out of that, then. Takin' this one back home."

Through his travels, Ghalok had never encountered this 'Grannvale', which gave his sense for exploration a prick of curiosity and eagerness.

Listening she watched both of them her curiosity evident as she appeared to laugh not mockishly, but unrestrained as it was. Something was certainly true she appeared to care little for any attachments in this world. As she acknowledged each with a skilled flourish she grinned at Ghalok, "See this is why I prefer the simple-minded to the posh and prissy, you are direct and show a surprising amount of shall we say ingeniuty. I think you have a great plan, an adventure whatever the cause is fraught with danger and I promise no party should be without a bard." not waiting she broke something off the haunch and started eating it not even caring how it tasted, "I may flit through the courts, but I never forget where I began, outside without a penny to my name. And food is food, I had actually forgotten to eat being so focused at my exceptional craft." her eyes twinkled with amusement before she countinued chewing, savouring the taste.

Only stopping to speak occasionally, "So Ghalok, we know Prince Charming's story but what is yours, you appear like someone who been through a lot shall we say. I admire someone who shows such talents as you do, mainly because I am not skilled in them myself although realize my skills are useless without people, yours are ideal way to survive..." pausing she added, "Oh and yes meat is truly scrumptious. I really think you cooked it just right."

Though the woman spoke in complex sentences that sometimes slipped the grasp of his fragile wit, her voice was soothing, like an unseen magic trailed from her mouth as she spoke. It made him pay very close attention to everything she had to say, despite occasionally not understanding exactly what it was she said.

He was able to understand the question she asked. She wanted to know his story. Where he came from and how he got here. Though he was a bit simple minded, the memories of his past struck him the way they would any other. For a long while he was silent, then he began..

"My true name is Ghalok 'Orncarver, tho I go by Ghalok cuz I'm not serposed to use tha last part n'more. I weren't always wanderin' by meself, I belonged, to a herd of my own kin. We walked the mountains an plains fer days and days, huntin' Mammoth an takin' thems tusks ter be sold teh the villages we's come across. Mos' folk didn' like us, says we's too big n' dumb. They didn' understan' we was peaceful, they didn' want nuffing ter do with us. Not all felt tha' way y'see, rather saw us fer what we were, mountain born nomads with er knack fer travelin'. They would take our tusks and give us food, an drink, oh the drink was the wors' of it. I took to it too fondly..."

Again he fell silent, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to continue.

"My people would fight fer positions of authorit-y, through trials of brute strength it were determined who would lead the herd until the next winter, when the trials would happen all over again. No killin', thems the rules, you gotsa make the other one give up, see, serposed to mean they'd rather fight alongside you an die rather than 'gainst you." He paused a moment, taking a large bite of the haunch, chewing slowly as if to delay the story.

"The night of the trials I'd been drinkin'...that awful drink. When we entered the pit, an the fightin' started...I couldn' get the upper han', had too much of the drink an me balance was off. It made me..so..angry. I...I didn' mean to kill him I didn', I don' know what come over me." He wiped a large glob of snot from his upper lip, sniffling deeply. "Took half ther village to calm me down...elders called it "rage", said I was er monster and I should be forced ter live beside them. I told em' I'd sworn off the drink, that it wouldn't happen again, but...I was banished. Forced to flee my home an people on pain of death, comfortin' as it would have been in those times.." Taking a deep breath, he composed himself before continuing the tale.

"Even tho I didn' drink n'more tha rage still came back ter haunt me. I threw m'self at any beast I came cross, hopin' they'd be the one ter do me in. The rage forces me ter keep livin'. I try not ter let it out n'more, 'specially aroun' people, I won' ever do nuffin to hurt another person who ain't done no wrong. Thas' my story, miss." He concluded, matter of factly, taking another large bite, dropping his gaze to the ground, shifting uncomfortably where he sat. This would be where they saw him as either a monster or something else, he dared not guess what.