Greetings, my fine friends. No, please, don't touch my hair. I know it looks terribly silky and that you just want to feel, but please, I don't want your grease all over it. Now, I should introduce myself. I'm Rolf. Salty Rolf, more precisely (yes, I'm aware that this sounds like puke at times, but you need to get past that and just treat it like anything else). No, I didn't misspell "ROFL" and I am insulted that you'd even imply that. I have a rich heritage and I'm named after my great grandfather, so just leave it. I'm known as Salty because I am truly a great fisherman. However, this often makes people jealous. When I am merely looking for a brief jaunt in one of the treasure-filled dungeons of Northrend, I often run into people who want to cause me trouble. I mean, I'm a great hunter, a great fisherman.. I'm world-renowned. I can't blame them for being jealous, but that's no reason to be mean to me when I'm merely trying to murder and pillage! Oh, right, and save the Horde from the Lich King. You know, that important stuff.
It doesn't help that lately I've got this nagging cough. I don't know where it came from, though I suppose that I've been spending enough time around those rotting undead that it could be anything. Oh well, no matter, I'm sure it's nothing. I'll stop by the apothecary on my next visit to Dalaran and see if they have anything that might help me.
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