Tauren Chronicles - Part 2

Ok, my bad.  There seems to be some confusion as to what Im talk about.  This old Tauren is getting forgetful, and its been a long time since Ive tried to tell a story.  It seems in my haste to tell the story, I forgot the most important part of the story: the begining.

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My name is MinasTaz, and I am Tauren (think large bipedal bull).  I was born on the rolling plains of Mulgore, to a small tribe that included my parents and their siblings.  I was my parents only calf, and from a young age was told I was destined for greatness. I was tutored by the best Shaman in our tribe, and I quickly learned to love Nature and the wonderful world that opened to me upon being more closely connected to the world I lived in.  Everything was wonderful; Id meet my future lifemate, Tora who was training to be a Druid, another wonderfully nature-aspected Tauren profession.  Together we dreamed about setting out to explore our world, learning more about ourselves and our place in the world. 

Then, one horrible night, came the centaurs.  Tora, being far more implusive than I, had dashed out into the plains, eager to see if she could catch a glimpse of a herd of migrating Kodos.  I had followed because I was learning that the world was far more fun when she was in it, and even nature was more bleak in her absence.  Its her curiosity that saved us from the slaughter that the centaurs delivered to our small village.  We saw the smoke, much blacker than anything wed ever seen from tanning or curing hides or the cooking fires of the great feasts.  Tora and I dashed madly across the fields, through the blinding, acrid smoke, cries of the wounded carried on the oppressive wind.  We arrived back at camp in time to help the wounded, using what meager healing abilities we then possessed.  Most of the elderly had been spared, deemed no threat by the centaurs.  That was perhaps the centaurs most dire error that night, for had we not the guidenance of those few survivors, Tora and I may have died of grief that night.  As it was, among the bodies of our families, parents and cousins, the disecrated bodies of our villages youth, we were given hope and purpose.  The elders directed us to the outpost of Redridge, where our training was to begin in earnest.  Ours was not the only village attacked by the Galak centaurs.  Indeed, it had been a push by the centaurs into our lands that almost broke the Tauren people.  It was the leadership of Cairn Bloodhoof that drew the disparate tribes together, providing a coherent defense and sending word to the Orcs newly arrived to the continent of Kalimdor that was our home. 

The orcs came to our aid, providing support for our surviving warriors, fending off the smaller centaur raiding parties.  It was for this support and assistance that the people of the Tauren tribes have allied themselves with the Horde.  While we do not all trust other member races of the Horde (namely, the undead) we will stand by our Orc allies as they have stood by us in our hour of greatest need.

Thus begins the story of Tora and myself.

~MinasTaz, Tauren Chronicles