Many years past, I committed the gravest mistake I would ever make in my life.
Against the warnings of my tutors, I ventured into the forbidden section of the Lorewalkers’ library. In my youthful folly, I believed myself to be impervious to the horrific secrets held within. Oh how wrong I was…
For hours, I roamed the dim and dusty shelves. Row after row of ancient tomes I passed—all containing the knowledge of fell magicks. Yet it was the most forbidden secrets of all that I craved.
Many measures were put in place to keep out intruders—wards created using arcane spellwork lost to our ken, runed doors fashioned from the most impenetrable of alloys, hallways of bloodied spikes. And each of these obstacles in turn I defeated. Naught could dissuade me. I was as if a woman possessed.
In the innermost sanctum, I found but a lone pedestal. As I approached it, a sense of palpable dread came over me. And yet I pressed on. Even now I know not what drove me on. Perhaps it was but my indefatigable curiosity, or perhaps it was some dark power urging me forward. No matter what it was, my fate had been long since been sealed.
With trembling hands, I picked up the unsuspecting tome lying upon the plinth. I gingerly brushed off the dust laying upon its cover, revealing the faded words “WORLD OF WARCRAFT: THE ROLEPLAYING GAME: HORDE PLAYER’S GUIDE.” These words held no meaning for me, and yet seeing them filled my heart with an all-consuming horror.
In spite of the fear that transfixed me, my hands moved to open the book, as if moving under their own power. And that, Celestials preserve me, was when my eyes fell upon the yellowed pages of that accursed tome. I should never have touched it. I should have burned it, and lived my life as if I had never seen it. Perhaps then I would be spared the nightmares that plague me every night. And yet I did not.
My very eyes betrayed me as they moved across the page, drinking up the limpid pools of black ink that formed grotesque approximations of words. They said:
Tauren also bear no ill will to the members of the Alliance unless threatened by them, although they do make an exception for high elves. The taint of magic on the high elven spirit is a poisonous air to the tauren, a stench of the soul that they cannot tolerate for long.