[Koltira claws at his face, drawing lines of blood down his cheeks. His laughter is short and brittle.] Now ... now you want to talk? I have been trying to do that since I arrived here. [this last he hisses with such venom that it just about poisons the air. He manages to stand, and begins to walk, meaning to move away from the dead deer and the ruined tree. He speaks as his moves, his voice shaky with pain.]

This [he gestures to his body.] is the plague of undeath, specially modified. After I was killed trying to defend my homeland from the Scourge invasion, my corpse was raised using a particular strain of necromancy.

[he stops walking when they reach a clearing, and collapses back to his knees. He heaves for a moment.]

I have been dead for ten years. And in that time, I have never stopped fighting. [even when he was in that other place, that other city ... he has recollections of fighting.]