The Black Stag and the Sun

*the following texts are written entirely in taurahe and are accompanied by a multitude of notes disapproving of its content in the margins and over the text itself. Considering how few written works there are by the tauren, the parchment stands out as an oddity*

Into the brave hearts of her pure children, the Earthmother placed the love of the hunt. However, such love can blind the eyes of those that do not wish to see the truth. All are taught of the White Stag and how he escaped into the sky but none wish to see the shadow he cast onto the plains. This story has been painted within the aged walls of the rise but none wish to read its tale. The story our ancestors graciously left us remains ignored.

The Mists of Dawn tell of the dangerous lands that once were and how we would hunt for the Earthmother's blessing. So many fierce creatures prowled across the lands that the legends of this time have often been lost. It is clear to see however than it in the paintings of the White Stag there always remains a black shadow to his side. Never trampled under the hoof of Apa'ro, the shadow appears to be watching proudly, always out of reach. This is not a mere shadow or a forgotten, nameless beast. This is the form of Epe'ru, the Black Stag.

Epe'ru was a great spirit of the Mists, similar to the White Stag in his elusiveness. The Shu'halo would hunt him and try and defy his cunning but he would always escape and remain just outside of their grasp. After a long night of of endless pursuit, one hunt began to drag on into the gaze of the sun, dazing the wily hart with its staggering beauty. Venturing over the hill's crest the tauren were also struck with awe, almost as if the clouds had parted for An'she's glorious stare. Under the watching eye of the Earthmother the thick black coat of the stag began to set ablaze and, startled, he scorched the plains as he charged back into the hunting group.

*the following text is in smaller but similar writing, probably intended as a note or a reply. The ink also appears to be less faded, suggesting it has been written more recently*

The remainder of this story is lost. Unlike the tale of the White Stag's love for Mu'sha there is no joy to be shared in this and that is why it has been left; to be forgotten. I believe however it is the duty of our people to keep every story our ancestors have graced us with, for there may come a day when such a legend has gr-

*the rest of the text and the author's name is cut off by a noticable rip in the parchment*

Very, very, very interesting! I really, really did enjoy reading that - there aren't enough Tauren-related stories out there! I like how it has that "story teller" feel to if which I expect most Tauren would have. My only let down is that it was written down in-character! I think it'd be more authentic if you had conveyed the story through your character's narration. Anyways, well done and please keep writing!

You have a lovely way with words, and I, for one, very much like the IC lore-keeper style of it. I'll be looking forward to its continuation!

The corpse laid itself upon the shore without the slightest care for the contrast to its surroundings. The waves gently pressed against it as if wishing for it to go, but to no avail. It just remained; lying, still, motionless, remaining as calm as the gentle tide.

She remembered the rainstorms of autumn, when her father would guide her hand through the tall grass and lead them back to the warm campfire. But there was no hand to guide her now. The endless wind and rain lashed against her as if it were the tears of the ancestors she had scorned. She remained standing alone, soaked in bitter cold, completely devoid of direction or purpose.

"I'm sorry." she murmured. Feeling her legs give way she collapsed into the ground. Knowing not whether to remain or submit, she laid still in her purgatory, waiting for her apology to be heard. But no answer came. No answer would ever come.