[H/Tauren RP] Proudhorn Nomads - New Friends and Old Enemies


More Tauren guilds are ALWAYS good! This concept is more than amazing i really love it :heart:
I would really love to interact with you or join you at some point!
I assume the Tribe would have friends, right? :smile:

Edit: also if you aren’t a part of Tauren community, you are very welcome to join! Poke me on discord


This looks like a really nice concept.
Hope it goes well for you! :muscle:


Sounds like a well thought-out narrative! Will definitely be keeping an eye out for the progress of this guild. Best of luck!

(Edmyn) #9

Incredible looking concept and I can attest personally when it comes to narrative and storytelling, Noblespirit is at the top of the game. I’ll have to invest in a Tauren myself.


Good luck with the guild Noblespirit, it’s looking great :+1:


Thank you everybody for the words of kindness and support.

I’d love for the nomads to interact with another clan. We’ll definitely organise something once the Proudhorn get moving.

I think its important to try out new avenues of RP and writing. For anybody on the fence, or who has never played a Tauren / Horde character before, please feel free to contact me and we’ll have a conversation. This will be a new start for myself as well and so I’d be excited to introduce more people into the intriguing culture and practices of the Tauren.


The Proudhorn Discord is now live and available…

https:// discord.gg/ZgHE6S3

If you’re interested in talking to those involved, or hearing more about the concept, come join us for discussion.

(Please note, there is a space in the hyperlink. Delete the space between “//” and “discord” for the link to work.)


Were I not already in a guild, I’d hop to this in a heartbeat!

Regardless, I hope I can interact + roleplay with you guys out in the open world! Looking forward to seeing you about.


Certainly! Come find us in Kalimdor when we’re live and we’d love to meet you. Can’t promise it’ll be smiles all around however…


We can proudly announce that the guild was officially founded last night!

The future has never looked brighter for the tribe (if you disregard life threatening sickness and sparse supplies) and maybe a Tauren role player or two dares to step out of hiding to plant a sturdy hoof within our community!


Well. I’ve been hoping for something like this to appear for years, and considered starting something similar myself for a while, but never thought there’d be enough interest for tauren RP - particularly of this sort. I’ll definitely have to send a whisper on my old tauren…


Here’s something I just posted on the Proudhorn discord…

Thanks to everyone for helping this group establish itself at an astonishing rate. When I told my friends about this idea, I was warned repeatedly that there just might not be enough interest in Tauren or tribal RP to make the concept a possibility. Now with the group grown to the numbers we have, I think it’s time to start thinking about our next step.

Our first event will focus on the funeral of Tamlin Proudhorn and will give every participant the chance to settle into their characters and meet their fellow nomads. Afterwards we will follow a introductory storyline in Desolace, setting up the group and the problems to come, which will be fully shaped to your own actions and relationships. In preparation for the launch of our guild, you may wish to consider the following…

  • Level your Tauren, if this is relevant. Desolace is not a very high-level zone so don’t worry about hardcore boosting all the way to 120. My plan is to reach the high 60s for the purpose of flying and so I don’t pull every monster in Kalimdor - remember, old world zones now scale to level 60.

  • Build your character. I’m going to have a channel on this discord server for the purpose of sharing our character concepts. This is so we can get to know some of the personalities of the nomads before we begin and to allow possible alterations (if you’re making a new character) in the event we’ve got a very similar group. Feel free to contact me if you’d like some advice on your ideas or simply want someone to bounce off directly.

  • Coordinate with your fellow nomads. Building off the last point, remember your greatest asset in RP is other players. Plan characters and development alongside your guildmates, perhaps organizing family groups or events, in order to maximize your experience. Don’t rely on me to provide RP - create your own!

  • Spread the word. Although we are doing fantastically, there is still room for growth. Tell your friends about the concept and send them to the forum thread or pass along the link to here. The more nomads we have, the more varied the experience.

  • Help me to decide a date for our launch. In not so long, I’ll be organizing a vote for the date we’ll launch. This will be the night of our first event (Tamlin’s funeral) and will begin our RP officially. More on this to follow.

Thank you for helping make this a reality.


As you can see, support and interest in this concept has wildly exceeded my expectations. I’m grateful to everyone who’s contacted me so far and look forward to the adventures to come.


Bump because it derserves it.


As we prepare for our launching event very soon (expect to see us operating in Desolace some time this upcoming weekend), I’d like to share some lore on background characters I’ve been preparing for the Proudhorn. This is an extract from ‘figures of the past’, a channel on our discord, for the late Chief’s son, Tamlin Proudhorn…

Tamlin was always a playful soul. On the day of his birth some twenty-five years ago, the story goes that his first stirring was not to cry but to laugh. When the tribe overheard their chief Jeddek, his wife Iretae, and all the healers in attendance bawling in great bouts of laughter, they knew Tamlin, the future of the Proudhorn name, had been born.

He was always well-loved amongst the tribe because he gave an air of genuine interest in every minor affair that was spoken to him. Even after his mother was taken by a wound infection, Tamlin never lost his ability to care for every person he met. Eyota is refusing to be bathed and his parents have gone to the Seer, Tamlin smiles and offers condolences. Khitava does not want to leave her hut and will not take food, Tamlin offered to sit beside her and tell his stories. Wyaenne is leaving muddy hoof-marks all over the clean interior rugs of the tents, Tamlin will have a word and remind her to wash her hooves. He was a magnificent lover of life, such that you will only see once in a generation.

Most remember the day he led the great hunt that brought down the mighty thunder lizard, Mooryak, some seven years ago, as the moment they realized he had truly turned into a man. Even Jeddek, the usually quiet-spoken and sober chief, ordered celebrations and formally named Tamlin heir of the Proudhorn. This was perhaps the happiest day the tribe has seen since any time thereafter.

Most of the living nomads will also remember the disagreement Jeddek and Tamlin had over the wolf cub Tamlin brought back with him around four years ago. Jeddek did not so much disapprove of the wolf in their tribe in general but was wholeheartedly disappointed with the name Tamlin had chosen for him. Tamlin named the wolf ‘Falax’ to some controversy, as this was the name of the most honored ancestor of the Proudhorn, but eventually the title stuck and all was forgiven.

Tamlin married Khitava just a few months ago but their bliss had to wait when a Quillboar warband drove the nomads ever further South. And then the fever came, the wicked sneezing sickness, which spread throughout the tribe and eventually struck Tamlin bedridden and wheezing. He would die there, surrounded by his family and the wolf, but not before saying some final words: “I regret nothing. I go now to see my mother. Good bye.”

Tamlin Proudhorn was the future of the tribe and, now dead, it is hard to see what good could come of tomorrow. Still they must press on, if just to honor his memory: the man who loved all and regretted nothing.

(Naoru) #22

Much love and encouragement from a fellow child of the Earthmother! If I had to make a new tauren, I would be interested to make a Proudhorn.

If Naoru ever crosses your path, I think he’d be happy to sit down and share his smoking herbs with you or help out if there’re any troubles!

(Stempel) #23

Tauren RP is always something I hold very close to my heart and something I’d really like to get into at some point (Read: Soon TM).
All the luck to you! :heart:


Thank you for the kind words. As I said before, I’m overwhelmed by the level of support for a concept that is, by the nature of its narrative and target race, incredibly niche. I can’t wait to get started.

Please contact me if you have any questions or join our discord (link above) to join the group discussion.


Nomad Heart

It takes a brave soul to cross the forbidden creek into the land of the unknown, but only a madman would abandon his family and way of life. Some twelve years ago, following the Legion’s defeat at Mount Hyjal, Grulun Proudhorn had done precisely that.

“I am going, and I mean not to return,” he had told his Chieftain in private. “I shall travel the lands with An’she as my guide, until I find a place to settle, like the other tribes.”

Without so much as a word to the others of his tribe, he had departed, bringing only the bare tools of survival. He had always known how to carve his own path through the untamed world that surrounded him, and had doubted neither his strength nor his experience, though the journey ahead would be long and full of hardship.

Even now, comfortably seated by the hearth, he recalled that cold night with a shiver that erected the fur on his back. He let out a long breath, before shaking his head and continuing to carve a piece of hickory. Labour often put his mind at ease, but he soon discovered he could not prevent his memories from intruding upon his thoughts. Though he did not desire to, he remembered the past decade as clearly as if it had all occurred but a moon ago: the sights he had beheld, the people he had met, and the many dangers he had faced and overcome. It had taken him years to finally settle in Thunder Bluff, and two years later, after having surpassed the skill of his master, Grulun had begun to make a living forging tools and weapons as a smith. He had always dreamt of a richer life away from his tribe, and in Thunder Bluff he had found it; there was nothing in particular he desired that he did not already own, and although it was a life that required much physical work, he lived comfortably. Despite all of this, feelings of emptiness and discontentment had slowly begun to take hold within his chest over the past few years.

As he began filing down the wooden haft he was working on, Grulun came to the realisation that he no longer practiced his craft with the burning enthusiasm he once felt, and unknowingly, he had withdrawn from the friends he had made among the settled tauren. He now felt strangely hollow inside. “What is missing?,” he wondered to himself. “I have everything, yet I feel unfulfilled.” Suddenly, he was overrun by the sense that he did not truly belong within the confines of his Thunder Bluff abode. He had long been disregarding his own instincts in an attempt to adapt to a sedentary life, but his hoofs knew what his mind had tried to suppress: he was aching to roam free again. He missed the dangers of the wilds, and the thrill of hunting for his food, but most of all, he missed his freedom. Grulun had tried to deny it, but he knew that in his soul he had not changed, even after all these years. In his heart, he was still a nomad.


You are lost.

Beaten, tired, torn, the Quilboar pushed you South but the sneezing sickness took your future. Tamlin is dead and who is to say whether the sun will rise on tomorrow. Yet if you had died, and he had lived, would he have given up so easily? No, he would never give up, and now you must not.

You must survive, persist, provide for your people. There is an end to the desert if you can find it.

But first you must burn him. Ignite the future.

Our first event, ‘Ignite the Future’, begins in Desolace tonight at 8:00 Realm-Time and will act as the official launch of the guild. Thank you to everyone who’s helped so-far to bring this concept to life and, to anyone who may be just finding this now, feel free to contact me or join the Discord if you’d like to be involved.


Song of the Ancestors
The night air was thick with smoke as the old bull burned. The rest of the tribe had returned to their tents once the ceremony had ended, but Tohaku stayed. His father was gone, and, despite his preparations, the loss had yet to sink in.

He heaved a sigh as his eyes turned toward the horn in his hand. He had removed it himself before the cremation, and was now charged with upholding his father’s legacy as Hornkeeper of the Proudhorn Tribe. He knew his task, and had trained with his father since he was but a calf, yet he found himself paralysed, unable to return to his tent to begin the ritual carving of the horn as the tribe’s traditions demanded. He wiped away his tears, yet more came – he was lost.

He did not know how long he sat there, by his father’s side. The old Hornkeeper’s corpse had long since turned to ash, and the fire at the camp’s centre had died out some time ago. It was not until the emergence of the aged and grizzle hunter, Baku, that he awakened from his trance.

“You have lingered here some time, young Hornkeeper,” the bull stated as he approached. He was known for his warm heart, and his eyes glistened with understanding. “You mourn your father, as does the tribe. He was a good man, and performed his duties as well as any I have ever known. The ancestors, it seems, chose wisely.” He removed the stopper from the gourd fastened to his belt and took a drink before offering it to Tohaku. When the young one hesitated, he insisted further.

“Thank you,” Tohaku said at last as he took the gourd. The firewater went down smoothly, but did little to brighten his mood. He passed it back to Baku. “And yet I am to succeed him. It is not customary for the role of Hornkeeper to be inherited by one’s next of kin; I fear we have misread the signs.”

“You fear you are not up to the task?”

“I do.”

The old hunter let out a low, amused chuckle. Tohaku wondered if he was being mocked, but the old bull laid a hand on his shoulder. “I have lived a long time, young one. And never have I known the ancestors to be mistaken – though your father has, on occasion, mentioned that they can be quite demanding. I recall him telling me that old Ahaya – you remember her – was most displeased with her son’s choice of mate. The chimes outside their tent shook furiously that night, though there was no wind…” He trailed off for a moment as the memory returned to him.

“You have had too much to drink, hunter,” Tohaku sighed. “Perhaps you should return to your tent-“

“Then perhaps you have forgotten, young one. The Seer had taken ill that night, and so your father could not call upon his aid to calm Ahaya’s spirit. Who did he call upon in his stead?”

Tohaku knew the answer. “Me.”

“Indeed. And by the end of the night, your father told me, the ancestors danced and sang with the rest of us – though none but he could see them.” He smiled. “Your father often spoke fondly of that night. It was a festive occasion, to be sure, but there was great pride in his voice when he spoke of it. I believe it was then that he – and the ancestors – knew your destiny.” The old hunter yawned. “But you are correct. I have drank much this night, in memory of your father, and must rest before tomorrow’s hunt. I hope, at least, that I have given you something to ponder, young Tohaku. May Mu’sha smile upon you this night, and may the winds carry your father’s ashes to the most blessed lands.” Baku patted his arm before rising to his hooves and slowly making his way back to his tent, slightly off balance.

Tohaku sat with his thoughts, eyes fixed upon the horn of his father. As if in a dream, patterns and symbols flooded his vision, an elaborate depiction of the old bull’s life. He was astonished when he discovered his engraving tools in hand, and even more so when he looked upon the horn once again. It had been engraved with an intricate series of designs, honouring the memory of the late Hornkeeper.

As he rose to his hooves, he looked around the campsite. All of a sudden, it was alive and filled with song. But as he drew closer, and as their eyes turned toward him, he saw that they were not his remaining tribesmen. Figures from the past stood before him, their faces marked with approval. It was then that he held a firm hand on his shoulder.

“You honour me… Hornkeeper.”