- -by Hukari
If one were to look just south of Stranglethorn Vale, perhaps a hundred and fifty years into the future, they would find a solitary island. If one were also, then, to charter a boat from the money-scheming Goblins of Booty Bay and sail it southwards, one might find a welcoming sandy white beach on the south coast, while the rest are barren, impassible cliffs.
Upon those sandy beaches, if one looked hard enough, would be the barely-washed away footprints of a Troll male, leading into the dense jungles of the island, and revealing a well-tended path, with Troll Voodoo totems lining the sides and masks nailed to the trees.
Continueing on up the path, one might then find a clearing, and a well tended garden of Stranglethorn underbrush and Kalimdor vegetation. In a special place of honor in the garden, with the prettiest and brightest of trees and plants surrounding it, would be a very simple, stone marker, with the words "Rukra Hexxen of the Warsong Clan." engraved on the top, followed by "Loving mate and mother of four.", and then the date that she had died fifty years previously. If one were to then emerge from this wonderous garden, and look upwards along the path again, one might find a masterfully-built Troll lodge of fine bamboo and grasses.
A fine Troll hut, with many native Stranglethorn birds of bright plumage and wonderous song perched on the roof, and a very aged banner of the Horde flying from the very peak of the structure. Inside, one might find Voodoo masks warding the walls and windows, a warm welcoming fire in the hearth, and the strong, relaxing scent of Peacebloom.
It was in the large hammock in the center there, that the white-haired and wrinkled Troll lay, smiling happily as he smoked one last bit of Peacebloom, before the shining, glowing images of that familiar green skin, and comforting tusked smile carried him into the warm glowing light of the beyond.