George
Tanyth Carven, Forest of gorangrad 

The mercenary had become distracted, her brown eyes watching the dancing flames. Her muscles seemed to relax and a smile played at the corner of her mouth, "That owl carving... I think I'll pay you back for it." She said easily, her tone gentle. What came next was something she'd not done since last she felt happy on the sea, she sang, with voice like the caress of a cool ocean breeze after a long day's labor. 


*"Farewell and adieu unto you Elvish ladies,
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of the East,
For we 'ave received orders to sail for old Marin
But we hope very soon we shall see you again
We'll rant and we'll roar like true Marin sailors
We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the Port of old Marin
From Tonate to Brindelle is thirty-five leagues."*


She looked far and away, her eyes unfocused as she called up the warm memories of childhood to sing for her new friend. 
*"Now let every man toss off a full bumper
And let every man drink off a full glass
And we'll drink and be merry and drown melancholy
Singing, here's a good health to each true-hearted lass."*
With the song over, her nostalgic happiness was broken by the bitter truth of the memories and her pretty brown eyes darkened with the ever present rage. "Thank you for the owl." She mumbled, pulling her cowl up to hide away her face.
Joyce
Stern Logarsh, Forest of Gorangrad

Stern's ears perked up slightly as a slight shiver ran up his spine, an effect of his sensitive hearing.
The greenskin's heart began to feel warmer as the sweet and silky melody of the young mercenary's song brought sound to the cave.
A voice as clear and soft as the one of his adoptive mother, when she used to sing to calm his fury. 
The beautiful voice of women being the only true way to calm the hunter when his crimson eyes were glowing.
That soothing feeling spread across Stern's body in waves, giving him goosebumps. In his life after the loss of his people, nobody had ever sang for him...
The hunter closed his eyes, letting his consciousness drift through the misty recesses of his mind, away from the dark and haunted memories that gave him no quarter even when sleeping.
As the song ended, Stern opened his deep hazel eyes, now slightly clearer, as if the shade of grief had left them momentarilly. He sighed and returned to the book. 

The shards of ice in his heart began to melt slightly...

Until he glanced into the fire.

Bodies, his mother, the torch...

The darkness in his eyes returned.
George
Tanyth Carven, Forest of Gorangrad

They were quite the pair of haunted creatures. They bore witness to nightmares, the worst of humanity, yet they sat reading and singing. "My mothers and the crew would all sing that to me at night as I lay down to sleep, on good nights I dream of those times... Laying in my hammock and listening to fifty voices singing me to sleep." She slid her sword back into its sheath and gazed over the green creature. "So what in the nine hells are you anyway? You don't look like an elf, or a half breed... What were your people like? Can you remember your culture?" Her voice and tone held indifference and curiosity in equal measure. She didn't care what he was, but her curiosity couldn't handle not knowing.
Joyce
Stern Logarsh, Forest of Gorangrad

Stern's lips formed a smile, followed by a chuckle, both things incredibly rare to find in him.
He closed the book and turned in her direction. "I do not know." He scratched his beard. "My people called me Goruk, which means Boar. They thought I was an avatar of Nok'lorgazadd, a god of nature who protects hunters... But I don't feel godly... Other people called me in many ways: monster, demon, greenskin, abomination... And yet not even the ancient tomes of the Order can explain my existence... I've never met anybody like me and so I think I am the only Goruk..." The last sentence bore a heavy load of sadness...
Stern had never felt love nor his heart had ever found another one to be linked to. Cursed with a lonesome life, the greenskin was not new to that kind of questions. In the end, all that mattered was how he was, not what he was...

At least for the time being...