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Would you believe it, ‹namn›? Redpath wasn't satisfied with all the murlocs we killed--oh now, don't be modest, you had some hand in it. Now he wants me to bring proof of the dead, hacking off cold, slimy murloc heads to submit for his approval.
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Did you get those heads for me, ‹namn›?
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Oh for the Love of the Light... they're dripping on the ground.
Can't stand touching those things, myself. Fish are all well and good, but when they grow legs and start walking around... Haven't eaten a fish in weeks, let me tell you, and in Southshore, that means you aren't eating much.