Tall, purple, and wrinkled, this old night elf stands tall. His arms are long and muscular, his facial hair a true white. He holds a scimatar on his belt, and you detect the faint aroma of freshly baked bread while you're around him.
Once a baker of the Night elves, filling thier stores with delicious loaves of all the greatest breads, he found himself growing weary of the tireless dough kneeding after hearing from the sentinel's and druid's tales of the events of the third war. Knowing his time had finally come, he comandeered a ship from Ruk'therin village, and set sail on the high seas. Assembling a crew of scurvy dogs, he travels Azeroth and beyond for Gold, Glory and Yeast.
As he journeyed the land he found himself losing faith in the moon goddess, and as he spiraled downward, he began to hear the voice of a new god, the god of bread. The bread god called for his devout followers to gather scones, for his scone thrown, and bread, for he is the god of bread. Quickly he taught the teachings of the bread god to his crew, and they all became devout followers of this new diety.
With a cry of "Scones for the scone throne, bread for the bread god!" the crew of the Doughy Loaf assail any ships in their vacinity, completely draining their stores of flour, bread, and other baking essentials. They said when you're downwind of them, your senses are overcome by the smell of rich bread, enticing you nearer, so you may taste its delectible goodness, but it only ends in a bad headache and a complete lack of grain.