The Writer glimpsed it in his journeys through the various hells, but he paid no heed to it. His tale was about the afterlife and the punishments therein, not the arms and armor of the Darkness.
The grave robber grinned as he left the royal barrow, his pockets full of stolen gold, and dressed in a helmet and chainmail shirt stolen from the now naked, decomposing body of the king. The explosion that followed ten seconds after he stepped into the sunlight wiped the smile from his face and blew his body into pieces. Had he studied metallurgy, he would have known that the armour was made of pure Orthacarium and he would have left it alone, and escaped the barrow with his life.
Purple deer have begun to appear near the ruins of a fallen city, or other place of power. Hunting the deer is absurdly easy, as their coloration makes them easy to see. The heros prepare a feast from a freshly killed deer find out several hours later that the meat of the new purple deer is poisonous. This can range from cramps and vomiting to the truly sinister and lethal.