One of the best parts of roleplaying a Tauren is the depth of their culture. Every race has their lore, but the Tauren represent a unique effort by their creators.
There is an excellent article by Dahote/Raton titled, ‘How-to-roleplay-tauren-guide’, (26 May 2016), who made the point that when speaking, "shortenings don’t happen often among Tauren, thus “I am” is used more than “I’m” and “you are” before “you’re”.
Something so subtle that another player won’t likely notice, either IC or OOC, adds so much to the experience of roleplaying as a Tauren.
On the other hand, the best part of roleplaying a Death Knight is their origin story. Inherently tragic, all DKs share a well-understood existence (social isolation, an insatiable desire to inflict pain, etc.) The origin story is what adds the spice to the DK, giving them character traits, interests, and quirks.
In the case of a Tauren Death Knight, a perversion of nature that should not exist which despairs at their separation from the Earthmother (more on that later), roleplayers have so much opportunity to expand on that subculture.
For instance, just before patch 8.3 and the betrayal of Sylvanas, Saljourn led an undead-take on the Rites of the Earthmother in an effort to guide his Forsaken allies away from their dependence on the Banshee Queen, and towards service of their fellow Forsaken. It was a successful guild event which carried an unfamiliar Shu’halo twist that many enjoyed.
Thank you for following along, and please enjoy the chapter. Again, I do not take any credit for these artist’s work, but thank them for giving me the motivation to create something.
Finally, If you have questions, or advice I would love to hear from you! But for now, please enjoy.
Chronicles of Deepriver
Chapter II - Youngblood
Smoke and embers rose into the starry night sky. The family held each other as the fire claimed the remains of their father and mate.
The elders of the camp gave their final prayers to the Earthmother, casting handfuls of herbs into the growing ash pile at the base of the pyre.
Their mother remained strong, keeping her head high as an example to her two children who clutched at her robes.
Sal’Journ looked to his brother Mulgris with concern, thinking he had not been himself since the warriors arrived. Mulgris’ eyes were downcast, and his nostrils flared.
“Mulgris,” Sal’Journ whispered softly, leaning around his mother. “What are we going to do?”
Mulgris turned his head away, fighting back against the pain in his heart. Sal’Journ looked up to his mother as she ran her hand on the back of his head. Mulgris glanced one last time at his father’s pyre before turning to run.
Sal’Journ followed this time, struggling to keep up with his brother’s longer stride. Tahki did not try to stop them, but instead clutched her necklace. An elder female approached and reassured her quietly.
The next morning, Sal’Journ and Mulgris found themselves wandering the streets of Thunder Bluff. The city bustled with activity, with warriors and hunters visiting the various shops searching for that perfect bow or rawhide armor. The Tauren smiths expertly shaped their weapons, the sound of their hammers echoed throughout the market.
After being shooed away from the fish, the two boys clutched their aching stomachs and stumbled upon a large tent. It glowed, and gasps of those within drew the two closer. Inside, wounded Tauren laid on woven blankets, and a healer stood over them with her hands raised high.
The brothers watched in awe as the Tauren’s wounds healed. This was their destiny.
The years passed, and the brothers eventually earned their place amongst the healers of Thunder Bluff. Mulgris was a natural, quickly perfecting his technique and earning high praise from the elders. Sal’Journ on the other hand struggled, resorting to practicing in the dead of night alone whilst the others slept. Sal’Journ would desperately try to reinvigorate the dormant grasses around him. Frustrated and defeated, he would return home and collapse into his mat.
One fateful day, a sick Tauren limped into the healing tent, clutching an infected arm. Being the only one around, Sal’Journ jumped to his aid and quickly followed the steps he had been taught to no avail. Determined, he clutched the infected area directly and concentrated.
Not long after, Mulgris rushed into the tent on hearing of the Tauren carrying the highly infectious disease but stopped in awe. The wounded Tauren, now completely free of infection, bowed low to Sal’Journ who remained on a knee, clutching his own infected arm. The healed Tauren left the tent, singing the praises of Sal’Journ the Plagueshifter, leaving his savior alone with his brother.
“Foolish Youngblood,” the elders scolded Sal’Journ as they arrived. “You will contaminate the whole village!”
But Sal’Journ only smiled before grimacing in pain, knowing he had found his purpose.
