Large, blue-skinned vyrkul guards stood unmoving at their posts as Barab Coldforge walked along the iced pathways woven throughout Jotunheim. Small icicles dangled like winter-themed ornaments from beards and furred clothing, but the half-giant northerners seemed just as uncaring of their presence as they were of the occasional rime that dusted off their exposed skin when they happened to shift or bend a joint. Though every one of the massive guards were nearly four times his size, Barab didn't look up at them. These creatures were only slightly less mindless than the shambling hordes milling about at the bottom of the Citadel; and these were even more useless under the new Lich King, their so-called "Jailer of the Damned."
The things I do for my dark souls.
“Pack an extra pair of heavy boots, and a couple more insulated socks,” I instructed my maid, a young girl by the name of Raeni who just started a month ago. Her brother had been here somewhat longer, children of my butler, and she’d only recently been considered “old enough” to take the task. I liked her; I still missed Sara, even after all this time, but I do like Raeni so far. “Oh, and in the back of the winter wardrobe should be my fur-lined cloak. Summer or not, I shall require it in Icecrown.”
I can offer you all kinds of delightful things. Take me up, feed me.