We’ve all heard the whisperings. The news. The word on the street. Other trolls who pass by you now give a knowing and inquisitive look.“Will you join us?” “Are you coming?” A troll in Dalaran sticks out like a sore thumb, but there they are. And they speak with their skin and with their tusks.

I answered the call, in as discrete a manner as I could. I am going back to Kalimdor. I need this, and I need it badly.

I’ve not seen my father, my sister, or anyone I grew up with since I left.

I told Dauneth I was leaving. I didn’t say much. Things between us have soured. We’ve come to notice that we’re fundamentally different beings, and that we might never see eye to eye on the deeper issues. He has been a faithful and caring partner to me, but my needs have dramatically shifted and I fear he can no longer meet them.

Perhaps it’s my age. I’m almost 30 years old. My life expectancy as a Troll is noticeably shorter than his. I have needs that must be fulfilled now, and I can no longer wait. The day that things turn sweet for me won’t be too soon.

Zalazane will be defeated, and we will reclaim what rightfully belongs to us. We’ve been stolen from, displaced, and homeless for my entire life. I have long scorned my brothers and sisters for suffering these indignities silently. But I will stand by their side, even if it costs me my life, to have our home returned to us.

I have packed all my belongings, and quit my job.

The time is right.

I am going ‘home’.