It was a warm evening in Stormwind. Merchants were packing up their stalls, guards patrolled with a lazy rhythm, and the last rays of sunlight bathed the city in golden hues.

https://imgur.com/a/R9klKY4

Right in the middle of a cobbled street, as usual, sat Gnimus — the pink-bearded gnome in a ridiculously oversized blue pirate hat with a skull emblem. His voice echoed between the buildings as he waved his hands dramatically, telling his latest tale:
“…and then I polymorphed the felhunter — poof! Sheep! But not just any sheep. That thing grinned at me. I swear, it was a demon sheep!”

Laughter erupted around him. Gnimus lived for this — the spotlight, the chuckles, the sparkle in people’s eyes. With his cheeky grin, glittering robes, and shameless humor, even the grumpiest warriors couldn’t stay mad at him for long.

But that evening, he noticed someone who wasn’t laughing.

Nymeria, a night elf with long violet hair, trudged slowly through the city gates. Her eye was swollen with a bruise, and her shoulders heavy with defeat. Her group had been wiped in a dungeon — no healer left, no loot won, just broken gear and a broken spirit.

Gnimus immediately hopped off his barrel, clapped his hands, and conjured a crackling little campfire right on the cobblestone. He waved her over.
“Hey, long-ears! You look like you lost a drinking contest with a Fel Reaver!”

Nymeria blinked in surprise — her lips twitched despite herself. Gnimus motioned to a blanket beside the fire and handed her a mug of conjured cocoa (with a suspicious pink sparkle floating on top).
“No judgment, no drama, just cocoa and fire,” he said with a wink. “And if anyone messes with you again, I’ll polymorph them into a goblin accountant. Trust me, it’s worse than death.”

She chuckled softly and sat down, exhaling slowly as the warmth of the flames and his ridiculous energy began to melt her fatigue.

Then, with no warning and full gnomish confidence, Gnimus stood on tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.
“For luck,” he said. “And maybe to distract you from the fact that my cocoa tastes like pink marzipan.”

Nymeria blushed, rolling her eyes, but the smile stayed.

The evening faded into quiet laughter and stories shared around the fire. For that moment, there were no raids, no wipes, no bruises — just the city’s soft bustle, flickering light, and the unexpected kindness of a very pink, very loud, and very charming gnome.

You can often find Gnimus hanging around in Goldshire on the Lordaeron realm. Don’t hesitate to say hello — he loves a good chat, a bit of mischief, and making people smile. Just watch out for the polymorph.