Nothing Stays Forever- The Catalyst of Change
These cold lands, bereft of life, are oddly beautiful. Having arrived here by the port of Tirel like so many other refugees, Lyric would come to discover that Salvar was a truly gigantic place. So large was it that finding signs of civilization was met with surprise and wonder that eclipsed the paranoia and caution that they normally invited in his mind. Though he had lost track of time for precisely how long it had been since he arrived here, once more trying to find peace among the vastness, he could rely on the phases of the moon and how hungry he became to tell.
Too long, was the short of it. Sparse population, while safe for someone like him to reduce his chances of being discovered, also meant fewer opportunities. It also became clear that these lands were shockingly dangerous to travel alone in. Bands of brigands, orcs, and the occasional wild beast hampered his journey of aimless wandering, slowing all progress as he explored whatever trail or path he came across among the deep snow. But that was good; His hunger could be more easily ignored. Damnable thirst, ever present in his mind, drowned out over the need to hide from dangerous encounters. A skill he was supernaturally proficient at through no awareness of his own, his obfuscation kicking in as he would desperately panic, hiding from close encounters unaware he had effectively rendered himself invisible.
He would travel during the day, covered head to toe to shield him from the sun, and continue at night. No need to stop, no need to sleep. Eventually though, as the often beautiful and savage wilderness provided an ever pleasant and frightful sight, the discovery of more used roads and guarded traders of the Red Hand hinted he was nearing somewhere. It was this, a simple tavern on a beautiful mountain range among the trees of this path, that he finally decided to take his chances.
Lyric, through the kindness of others and luck (had anyone asked him), arrived at an opportune time and place it seemed. The innkeep, a beautiful young Urodin, was no stranger to strangers entering her warm place to stay among the cold. Despite Lyric's close guardedness, and not showing his face at first, she was welcoming to him. Many, after all, had reasons to be on guard in these dangerous lands. The fact that he was traveling alone, if anything, only made his behavior expected.
Lyric's intentions were to stay for a time here and gather information about where he was and keep an ear out for further opportunities while things seemed safe. But, instead, he accidently made himself, well... Useful. At times, they were alone in this tavern inn, and he would just observe her working. He did not eat or drink; It left for plenty of time to mingle. But while he was so guarded, she had no qualms speaking her mind. It started with her expressing frustration at her record keeping. How difficult it was running the kitchen and inn all alone out here. There was never time to sure up her papers without losing sleep, and if she wanted to remain in good standing with the Red Hand traders and their inherit safety, it was a compounding problem to have.
But... Lyric could read and write. Very well in fact. He inquired what exactly she needed done; To respond to letters, write them, and most importantly keep a written leaguer of clients and exchanges. She also expressed the want to keep a record like a diary of sorts, talking about the going-ons of interesting people and events that happened in her tavern. This inn was popular, she assured him, and it felt like such a waste to rely on memory for all the amazing people that came in here.
Perhaps he could help?
So, in exchange for free lodging, this inn and tavern had it's own personal scribe. Odd, yes, but Lyric immediately set about it. He was given his own desk, and ink, and became comfortable. Anytime someone would come in, he'd write it down. Any drink, he'd write it down. Any fun or wayward request, he'd write it down. The owner of this place, named Annie, was so thankful. And, to be frank, so was Lyric. This was sort of... Peaceful.
It started so small. Sitting there, constantly writing, receive gratitude and his own room. She would even bring him food, to which he thanked her for and... Unfortunately, had to discreetly dispose of. But it was still a kind gesture. So much so, he dared tone down his coverings... No longer hiding his face behind a hood and mask, but just caked with a tan earthy skin tone make up he would expertly apply each day. It always took so much make up, especially for darker skin tones, as it contrasted so starkly against the cold death he naturally was, but it was worth it. He was excellent at using it, and from the moment he saw his face, she never took it as the lie it was. She even expressed pleasant surprise. It was nice.
This place, he would learn, did have occasional regulars. Nigh everyone travelled, and the closest thing to an actual 'regular' this place had were those who simply made it a point to have this place be a stop as they passed by. One set that came in roughly once a week was a father and his small children, a set of twins, that immediately took an interest in the new scribe at the back of the tavern. Lyric, never having so much warm attention before, and for the sake of his disguise, was kind to them and taught them how to spell their names. They seemed to like just watching him write, his handwriting impeccable, and eventually were having him write letters for them to take on their journey before they left.
This, too, eventually bloomed into business for Annie. A legible scribe? This far away from the cities? People got word, and some would come in just to have Lyric make copies of papers or even entire books for them to retrieve later. Annie began charging them, and it just became another avenue of income.
For Lyric, this was the closest thing to normalcy he had ever experienced. He got to read the books he copied, and loved it. He would write and write and write, and see and meet so many people, but lost the worry that came with frequently being seen. This was starting to feel like home. But, never quite completely. After all, there was always, at the back of his mind, the hunger of the beast. One he so desperately was ignoring. This was the best situation he'd found himself in since leaving Lornius; He could not let it be for nothing by succumbing. Though, he had to admit, sometimes it was very difficult to hide, especially when people who he could smell had high quality blood flowing through them visited.
Though Lyric had found something akin to peace in this tavern, carving out a nice little niche as a freelance scribe in this no-where place, the battle against his inner starvation was only growing more difficult... And, little did he know, a separate force was about to influence the path his life takes from here.
