A mystic, tired of being left behind by his more swifted-footed companions, devised this as a simple solution.

'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

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

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.

A well-meaning mage has banished darkness from the area, not realizing the downsides of this event.

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.

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.

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

A small silver lantern, at whose heart there burns a shard of ice.

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.

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

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

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

Prized for the metallic sheen of the foliage, this peculiar plant dwells on the banks of mountain rivers, relying on heavy metals and photoelectric power to spread itself

Sometimes, you just need to stash something away - some spare cash, a holdout weapon, your gender...

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

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.

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

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

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.