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The Tales of Kashu Dawnseeker
These are the tales told by Kashu Dawnseeker, an elder Tauren storyteller. Having a great deal of free time to spend due to the limitations imposed by age, Kashu recorded some of these stories, myths and fables on scrolls of Kodo leather, which can be found in some corners of Thunder Bluff.

In the large tent inhabited by the finest warriors and hunters of Thunder Bluff, the first scroll can be found hanging on a wall nearby a humble corner.

The King of the Kodo

There was once a great Kodo, bigger than the rest of his brethren. So gargantuan he was he could have touched the top of the Thunder Bluffs with his piercing horn. In fact, his size granted him the title of King of the Kodo, and he acted in accordance, acting as a general of sort for all the herds of Kodo.

However, his huge frame required food to be sustained and thus he ate more than tenfold in comparison to the other Kodo. He ate and ate and left a scarred land where he passed, making survival harder for the other races and even other Kodo.

Because of that he was considered a menace by the elder Tauren, a threat to the rest of the wildlife. One day, a tribe decided to gather a hunting party to kill the King of the Kodo. They departed with promises of glory should they succeed that hunt.

The King of the Kodo proved to be easy to find, but the same could not be said of the battle fought. It was not a massacre, for the Tauren stood brave and fought with might, but many perished. Ultimately, a spear delivered the killing blow.

The hunting party had to split. Some were left guarding the carcass and others headed back to their village to bring helping hands for the burials and strong muscles to transport the huge beast's carcass.

The King of the Kodo was skinned and his meat feasted upon for weeks, nourishing the tribe of those who dared to put an end to his tyranny. Pyres burned and the final honours were given to all the hunters, their tale still known and told by many, as a way to show that no matter the size of a problem one should always face it.
Laying on a table inside the hut between the upper bluff and the Hunter Rise is the second scroll. Interestingly, there is a spot that seems like a mixture of ink and a tear...

The Hermit

Once upon a time, a tauren lived with his tribe in a quiet village on the plains. Their life was good, and there was plenty of hunt, fruit and water.

And yet, the tauren was not happy. He was restless, tired of everyone. He thought every single member of his tribe was plotting against him, and that his people in general were bad and rotten.

The tauren decided to leave civilization to become a lonely hermit. He found shelter in a cave, up a hill. There he slept and passed most of his time, daydreaming. No longer did the hermit hunt. He ate only vegetables and collected leather from carcasses.

The hermit enjoyed watching the sunrise, and to muse bathed by the moonlight. He believed he was happy this way, and for many moons he was, indeed.

Still, no one can stay alone, not forever. The hermit was becoming ill more and more frequently and, with no one to help him other than his lacking knowledge of the plants, he grew skinny and his fur became pale.

Leaving the cave less and less frequently, the hermit began to think about his condition. He thought of his peers as bad and rotten, but maybe he was mistaken after all.

One thing was for sure, the hermit thought, he missed the smell of the baked bread by the morning, the simplicity and beauty of talking with someone, the touch of anyone other than beasts on his skin.

The sunrise was glorious, the moonlight an awe, the hermit mused, but were these things beautiful enough without anyone to share them with?

Several days after, a band of hunters from another tribe that was not the hermit's went hunting to obtain meat and furs. They scouted far and wide, and eventually they found the hermit's cave.

The hunters entered it, but found nothing other than a tauren's lifeless body. He had no wounds, but he was skinny and his fur pale. The worst was his face, twitched in a frown that looked like the reflection of sorrow.

They mourned silently and did what they could to pay the hermit their respect. The hunters buried him nearby the cave, to let him be one with the Earthmother once more.

And they left, leaving the hermit alone, like he had wished to be.
Tauren shamans are known for their love for the Tauren heritage. To thank Kashu for his work, they hanged a few scrolls inside their largest tent. The third scroll was one of them.

The Pack

Many generations past, a pack of wolves hunted in the lands we know as Mulgore. There was plenty of prey and clean water and, better yet, no humanoid races existed to threat their well being.

Still, the wolves longed for bloodshed, even when their bellies were full. They were bloodthirsty unlike the other noble packs. Many outsider wolves perished under the fangs of the vicious pack, which fought only due to their lust for the precious life fluid.

One day, the terrible Alpha who had been leading the pack in their ways of destruction perished. A new Alpha took charge and, although he had been born with a pure heart, he had been corrupted by his pack's constant violent acts.

The new Alpha had not be completely blindfolded, however, and thus he had to make a choice: either stay in the comfort zone, letting the wolves of the pack do what they did best or attempt to change their ways and kill those who refused, even if that meant the extinction of his own pack, or his own death.

After pondering, the Alpha was wise enough to choose the hard but more rewarding path. He fought bravely and killed many of his peers, but finally the survivals' eyes were opened and they became another pack of noble beasts.

Still, there were things left to do; codes of conduct among the pack were changed and forgiveness was asked to the other packs. In time, the once murderous pack proved itself and the other packs conceded the forgiveness they deserved with great piety.

The lesson of this tale is simple, but important. It is necessary sometimes to leave the comfort of our habits if that is going to make those around us, from our circle of family and friends or not, happier.
The fourth scroll stands next to the one of the tale labeled as "The Pack", suggesting the shamans of Thunder Bluff have a soft spot for fables.

The Landing of the Plainstrider

The Plainstrider are well known dwellers of Mulgore and the Barrens. Not many bother to know their secrets – after all, they are “just” birds who are apparently too stupid to fly. One has to keep in mind, however, that the designs of the Earthmother never come without a reason.

Long ago, when Kalimdor was in its purest form, a flock of birds flew high in the air, enjoying their freedom and relative safety. They did not really have a reason to complain; life was careless, though monotonous.
Nevertheless, not every single member of the flock was pleased with the situation. One bird was particularly unhappy. It wanted to land on the ground and be able to explore it. The sky gave freedom, but there was nothing new to discover.

The unhappy bird lived like this for some time, until it gained the courage to bring the issue up to its peers. It told them how good it would be to land and be able to wander the land, sightseeing everything close by, and not simply fly over those places out of cowardice.

The flock, to the bird’s surprise, agreed. Still, another bird pointed out how they were not tailored to walk the ground; they simply could not run fast enough to avoid predators and constant take offs and landings were not sustainable.

That was a huge problem for the birds, yet, they did not give up. They tried to walk on the ground and, during the process, many birds died, easily killed by predators. Willful, the birds kept on, feeding their curiosity while wading restlessly.

With time, they began to notice some changes: their legs and neck had grown taller, their feathers had vanished significantly and their beaks were deadlier - they could run faster, and they were no longer defenseless.

The birds of the flock, before merely jokes for the predators, had become inhabitants of the earth on their own right. Their effort had paid off; they could finally travel around and discover the secrets of the land without fear.

This tale, more than wanting to explain from where Plainstrider come from, is an effort to transmit the message that one’s dreams can come true if they are righteous and worked towards.

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