[Story] The Ghostclaw – The Notice

[[ Just a short one, a new Ghostclaw woo! ]]

Vellira looked over the notice board critically, searching for anything that she might have missed before. Most of the papers tacked up were weathered and torn, their offers long forgotten. The armies had long since boarded ships and left these ports for Kalimdor, and very few had found their way back to these shores. Vellira had been one of them, though not in exactly the same manner. Fortune’s End had weathered all the storms the seas could throw at her, even escaped unscathed from a kraken once — or so Captain Redblade boasted — but she had been no match for Garrosh’s proto-drakes. There were other ships that would have taken her on, surely; she had grown up on board and was quick and nimble on the ropes. It was all she had known, and she’d always believed it would always be her life. Losing the ship — and its crew, who had been her family all these years — had shaken her. Maybe it was time for something else. If she didn’t like life on land, she could always return to the seas one day. The captain always said that salt stayed in your blood for life, it would never really go away.

Frowning slightly, she pulled down one of the notices from the board. The captain had insisted that she learn to read, and while she’d made some effort, Vellira still had trouble with it at times. Fortunately, there was a drawing to go along with, and it depicted a man holding the bridle of a hawkstrider. That was certainly a job she could do, but it didn’t appeal to her very much. She tucked it under her arm anyway, just in case. Some of the titles she could make out; one was searching for tutors. Wouldn’t that be a laugh! Vellira wondered if some of the advertisers were even still alive. The casualties in Kalimdor had been heavy, even aside from her own shipmates. Some people said that whole units had been lost when the underground tunnels collapsed, but people said a lot of things. She was just glad to leave the whole mess behind her. An older flyer caught her eye, hidden under an advertisement for a personal chef. Vellira plucked it off the board and read it. The drawing depicted a man drawing back a bow, aiming an arrow for a shambling skeleton. She couldn’t get all of the words, but she recognized “Ghostlands”. There hadn’t been any rangers there that she knew of, at least none since the attacks. But if there were, that sounded a lot more exciting than hawkstrider farming. She wasn’t especially good with a bow, but she was quick and good with knives; and she was excellent at staying hidden and moving quietly. It was worth looking into, at least. Vellira folded the paper carefully and tucked it inside her vest. She had a long walk ahead of her.

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