There were a myriad of ways that one could make money to sustain life on Azeroth. One could take it easy, recognizing that everyone likes to eat, or have their hair cut, or their clothes made. These were professions that would never die. Someone would always need a potion or concoction - everyone got sick. One may have to pay someone or go out of one's own way to collect the herbs that didn't quite grow in the regular gardens, but it wouldn't be impossible. Some people were willing to provide you your ingredients, absolutely.  Some were treasure hunters. Some were heroes. Some were undeniable in their moral code, and others were... morally grey.

One could argue that Mahya's entire family had been on the greyer side of life. The Nematis were but one family in the caravan that traveled across Tanaris, peddling and fortune telling, reading the stars to find the patron's true love or dearly deceased... If the clients found out they'd been duped, typically, the blame was on the psychic who claimed to know their destiny. But were they truly to blame? Some people didn't realize how much they wanted to hear these things, to have hope. Why not leave that evening from the teller's tent holding on to the hope you'd always dreamed would be possible - than to be told that they were, in fact, 6 feet under and you will be too if you didn't pick up yourself from the floor and move on with it.

While the Nematis had been going about these trades of greyer morals for generations, only the last few had done so in Tanaris. Originally, they were from Lordaeron, and like the rest who ended up in Theramore, they too traveled in hopes of better opportunities. They tried to make it seem like they left Lordaeron for a better life, not because the whole place was becoming infested and their certain death was all that was left. No, instead, they were looking for the seafarer's life, then they were looking for the pioneer's life on the shoreline. Each generation lied to itself and the next that these were decisions they'd made, not necessities of a world torn apart.

The Nematis that arrived and helped build Theramore were alchemists who assisted with gardening and harvesting the crops with the rest of the wartorn farmers. Except their expertise were potions of grandeur. Love potions, death potions, seeing-eye potions. With enough faith that the liquid you were drinking gave you the courage you needed to speak up to the woman you loved - then how could the potions they made be wrong?

Evha Almasi met Ramin Nemati while their mothers were doing laundry for the community. Literally, blood, sweat, and tears went into building Theramore and keeping it a thriving location - all alone, separate from it's brothers across the seas. The two young adults weren't fond of a life of washing or potion making - and knew they could do better. There had to be more out there.

And so, shortly after Evha Almasi became Evha Nemati, the two set out with a group of others south, seeking other locations to live. They packed plenty of food and clean water and clothes and tents... A whole caravan's worth per family. They prepared for this. They would survive. ©

Unfortunately, not everyone did. There were cliffs and uncharted territories and hostile that chipped away at the already small population. But somehow, three caravans survived with the three new families it would hold. By the time they reached a land they found was called Tanaris, sex was had, children were born, and lives were lost and altered. But this was nothing new to Lordaeronians.

Gadgetzan and those who inhabited were a shock at first, but then an opportunity. If you can’t beat them, join them. And so they did.

Ehva was a fortune teller and proclaimed psychic. Ramin was a mercenary who learned the land and gave various tourists “guides” through the desert. His son Arman joined him in this profession as soon as he could walk, so that he too could learn the place by heart.

Two daughters were born as well, first being Mahya and the next, Zahra. They mostly tended to their mother and assisted with the props of the gig. They both learned that trade, the art of lying, or being a con woman, but what else were they supposed to learn when that was the life they were born into?

One day, while Ramin and Arman were out on tour, a mad woman came to visit the tent of the Nematis. She claimed to want her fortune told, but there was something odd about her. Mahya recognized her too late to warn her mother, and as the scorned woman rose the dagger and began to fight Evha to her ultimate death, Mahya grabbed Zahra and fled into the night.

By the time Ramin and Arman returned to Gadgetzan, they were met at the gates with a notice of what had happened and that they needed to leave the city: exiled. No violence was tolerated in Gadgetzan, as neutral a town as it was, and the violence that began in their tent had nearly burnt down other buildings adjacent to it. They were ordered to pack up, and leave.

Ramin worked to pack up the tent, but his children were nearly teenagers by the time of their mothers deaths. He wasn’t certain where the girls would have gone. They weren’t helpless to themselves, but hardly ready for the harsh world outside of Gadgetzan. They weren’t prepared. They weren’t learned of the lands yet.

Arman offered to look for them as his father collected their belongings and prepared a new caravan. The plan was to roam Tanaris just outside of Gadgetzan. They clearly didn’t need the protection the walls brought if his beloved wife could be killed so easily.

Arman never found them.

They say necessity breeds courage and strength. Maybe that’s how the girls survived, and to this day.

But Ramin died shortly after they departed Gadgetzan, for the loss of his love was one thing, but losing all the women important to him in his life.. not even Arman could fill that void for him.

Arman was left with everything. Loss of his entire family, and loss of the home he used to know. Thankfully, he also knew Tanaris.