"I don't know," Koltira said. "Is it? What happens when you are injured through normal means?"

He rolled his sleeve back down to his wrist. The brief contact had offered him some specific information on the matter at hand, but Koltira couldn't claim expertise on the precise nature of the necromancy that held Bariyan together. The rituals on Azeroth involved reagents and spells that he doubted existed anywhere else, and the same was likely true in Bariyan's case. Koltira had skills meant to mend undead flesh, but he was hesitant to suggest them; he didn't want to risk aggravating the situation due to ignorance.

At the moment, his only, completely unhelpful conclusion was this: no matter where you found it, undeath was an unbearable curse. A pain in every possible limb.