In the eternal balance of frost and fire, the stolid ice forms a defense without measure.

The next level of scrapbot technology: pushes the scrap into a heap, then destroys it with flame vents and rockets.

Rub its belly more than twice and you're just asking to be pounced on.

It really seems to want to touch you, but why?

The Lich King tore the spirits of Sindragosa's lost whelps into undeath in front of her skeletal form as a final affront to the great dragon.

There is something deeply unsettling about the tentacle, perhaps it is best not to look at it for too long.

An unrepentant soul that was once trapped inside Frostmourne, and now flits restlessly between worlds.

Thousands of these skittering nightmares swarm underneath Northrend to this day.

In the eternal balance of frost and fire, the raging flames fuel many aggressive fronts.

A small fragment of Lord Marrowgar, it will NOT stop assaulting your shins.

Glowing from within, these sprouts have been blessed with a gift from Eonar.

One of innumerable ghouls summoned by the Lich King in his final battle, left to roam the world for eternity.