Feeling A Bit Morose

Zone: Iron Docks

So many years of waking up as a spirit, reanimated by some unseen force time and again, has left one with certain desires - the comforting, velvet blackness of death being chief amongst them. One will, however, settle for the lesser prize of a solution capable of removing the scuff marks that the commander's wonderful compatriots left behind in the dining hall in their woefully short stay in Karazhan, whereupon they barely had enough time to irreparably damage the priceless furniture.