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.

A crossbow bolt crafted from the deepest shadows, which infects those struck with a terrible spiritual corruption.

Once an outcast spirit of the cold, now the malevolent lord of a realm of winter unending...

The product of centuries of slow, careful, painstaking work, a testament to the Old Ways and the power of Thaumaturgy, the Cathedral of Light is known of across the whole of Kuramen.

Sturdy goggles with thick green lenses, and wires that lead to a battery of thaumic energy.

Once merely a minor Realm of an ambitious Prince of the Nether, the Gloom has been conquered and now lies ruled by Winter's cruel grip.

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

The dead, imbued with the divine essence of magic, walk again, ever hungry for the missing spark of a living soul.

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

Odd little devices, almost ubiquitous in any city which relies on thaumatechnology.

But, O Fellow Denizens of the Citadel, I ask this - what other kinds of unique elements can you come up with?

"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."

Gnomes, fascinated with magic, tried to find a way to safely access it, and instead wound up addicted in the deadliest way.

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.

'See that one, with the burn scars and dark veins? Don't stick too close; he shoots fireblood before engagements. Keeps friends and foes alike at bay, it does.'

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

Carved to bring glory to the Patient One, the silent and frigid Abomination that holds dominion over the frozen wastes, the Glacier's Fist is heralded as a deadly weapon, but the true purpose of it is a much more subtle thing.

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

At first appearing to be glass, this ring of enchanted ice is a boon to those in wintery climes...