Most folks don’t expect much when they first meet me. I suppose I’m easy to overlook – just a gnome with a satchel too big for her shoulders, boots too dusty for a lady, and a cart full of trinkets I swear have stories of their own.
My name’s Auremai. Merchant by trade, monk by discipline, and – though I’m a little bashful about it – an avid writer of romantic tales with happy endings and at least two comedic misunderstandings per chapter. There’s just something about a good love story that warms the heart, don’t you think?
I’ve spent the better part of the last decade trundling my way across Azeroth—from the rolling green hills of Elwynn to the misty coasts of Zandalar—with a cart full of curious wares and a heart full of stories. If you’ve ever bought a self-heating teapot in Stormwind or a ring that hums when you’re near your soulmate (questionable results), there’s a good chance it came from me.
Though I could settle down—I’ve the gold for it, Light knows—I’d rather use my coin to help those who need it. A warm meal in Westfall, bandages in Redridge, a school roof in Dun Morogh. I don’t make a show of it. Just a little envelope left behind, or a coin purse slipped into a pocket. Gold’s only as good as the good it can do.
When the world settles down and the campfire crackles low, I like to write. Rom-coms, mostly—set in places like Dalaran or Booty Bay, full of flustered apprentices, mysterious rogues, and misunderstandings that always resolve with a kiss and a laugh. I write under a pen name, of course. Can’t have heroes recognizing me from Love in the Shadow of the Spire while I’m bartering silk in Boralus.
Truth be told, I’m still looking for my own story. Maybe it’s waiting down the next road, over the next hill. Or maybe it’s already started, and I just haven’t reached the twist yet.
Either way, I’ll get there. One step, one sale, one story at a time.
A Pixel Nomad 