"It was as if, for a heartbeat, the world awoke, and lashed out in rage at those who disturbed it."

A legendary relic, suited to base a campaign around, with the power of Creation crystallized in a single milky seed...

Descended from humanity, the orcs of Kuramen are a far cry from the bloodthirsty savages of many other worlds.

A curious dagger, with a blade stained by ancient gore; it has seen many dark deeds, yet goes unsuspected as more than some old piece of junk.

Pitiable creatures, wandering forever in search of that denied them, unable to rest even as they crumble away to little more than crawling wrecks of bones.

The dead, when buried without last rites, often find it impossible to rest easy...

Driven by the need to keep his descendants fed, Daniel Andersson is one of the more peculiar undead - and gods - one might ever come across.

In the deep of night, even the most jaded of criminals will look over their shoulders for the telltale scarlet glow of the steamwalkers.

A set of pale white panpipes, etched with images of the winter storms...

Most weapons of legend are made in the days of legend; Nightfall is an exception, birthed in violence and vengeance.

'It was just after nightfall when it came; a horrible, rotten mass of bone and flesh, with a voice that was like a thousand screams braided together. I only survived because I ran - I ran and I've never stopped running, because I know it's after me. Me, and everyone else who was there when the city of Vesta was slaughtered.' -Hans, Former Captain turned nomad

A potion that contains the essence of Courage... In a way.

A nearly forgotten god of hatred, vengeance, death, and decay, whose priesthood seeks his violent rebirth.

Born half in legend, half in cold science, Lightning's Voice is a carrier of divine wrath in an age without faith.

This odd, fern-like plant taps into the power of fire to protect itself and prosper amid the cold northern tundra...

Even at the best of times, goblins and alchemy don't mix well...

The leftover remnants of Mind can sometimes cling to existence when the Body fails and the Spirit departs...

Slain by thirst and heat, these sad souls seek moisture - any moisture - to quench their eternal, burning thirst.

"Though they walk as men and grow as weeds, they are neither; the angry dead, feeding the green with the rage until they walk again, yellowing bones bound by the twining green."

Thaumatechnology - in a world where straight magic has an unnerving tendency to get the user killed, either by magical catastrophe or by being lynched by an upset mob, this is a much safer form of magical use... Even if it does occasionally explode.