gon-ai-art
Draenei Engineer + Extra
Published: March 4th 2025, 2:00:52 pm
Vekara had learned all she could about the art of Engineering from her master Grand Artificer Romuul. She concluded that she needed to travel, meet the other races and expand her knowledge. Her first stop was the kingdom of Stormwind. Not to the bustling city, but to the hearty woodlands of Elwynn Forest.
(Weeks Later...)
The sun dappled through Elwynn Forest’s towering oaks as Vekara Lightspire adjusted her toolbelt, her hooves crunching gravel on the path to Goldshire. Vekara's sky blue skin glistened under the warm afternoon sun, the buckles of her suspenders catching the light like polished steel. Her outfit—a pair of patched, dwarven-made overalls. It had seemed practical aboard the Exodar, but here, among Stormwind’s more… conservative sensibilities, the garment’s abbreviated design left little to the imagination. The straps clung low on her hips, the denim shorts frayed at the thighs, and the top buckles barely concealing her "assets"
Vekara had noticed the effect she had on human men, and even some of the women. At first she paid it no mind. Though in time she found their lustful stares to be narcotic.
"Need a hand with that crate, miss?" called a red-faced human blacksmith as she hauled a shimmering arcane core toward the inn. His apprentices snickered, hammers forgotten.
Vekara’s tail flicked playfully. "A kind offer," she purred, her voice like honeyed nectar, "but I’d hate to deny you the view." She winked, leaving the man stammering as she sauntered onward, hips swaying.
It wasn’t malice that drove her—just the thrill of eyes upon her, a devious game she’d indulged since leaving Azuremyst. Among her own kind, bare skin bore no stigma; Draenei saw the body as a testament to the Light’s craftsmanship. Here, though, the scandalized whispers of Goldshire’s women trailed her like gnats.
"Another Exodar refugee," hissed Milly Osworth by the market stalls, her suspenders tightly fastened to her body. "Do they not teach modesty on that spaceship?"
Vekara pretended not to hear, though her heart raced. Let them stare. Let them seethe. Their envy was a headier wine than any Stormwind vintage.
By dusk, she’d become a fixture at the Lion’s Pride Inn, repairing the malfunctioning mana-lanterns with deft, glowing fingertips. Human adventurers crowded her table, buying her mugs of cider they couldn’t afford. She regaled them with tales of Argus, her laughter melodic, her tail coiled coyly around the stool leg.
It was Priestess Anetta—a Priest trainer with a robe as tight as her frown—who finally confronted her. "You’re causing a disturbance," she snapped, draped hands trembling. "Men forget their duties. Women gossip instead of praying. Is this some… scheme?"
Vekara leaned close, her eyes glinting like violet stars. "No scheme, sister. I wear what suits my work. If your people see more in it…" She shrugged, the motion rippling her luminous markings. "Perhaps they crave beauty unashamed."
The Priest flushed, retreating. Yet later, Vekara glimpsed her practicing posture before a mirror, subtly loosening her sash.
By Hallow’s end, Goldshire’s tailor, Eldrin began selling "adventurer’s overalls"—modified, of course. The Draenei merely smiled, savoring the chaos she’d sown without a single spell.
After all, the Naaru love all who embrace the light. Even the mischievous ones...