Squares of colorful cloth, often enchanted with minor magics to better serve the owner - but, first and foremost, it is merely a kerchief.

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

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

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

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

The simplest way to tell if someone is a Thaumatech Engineer is often to ask to see his kit bag...

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

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

"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."

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.

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

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

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

Forged from the light of the first dawn, of the world, it remains radiant even now, long ages after...

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

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

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

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

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.

An ocean of fine silt, shot through with pillars and islands of ancient stone, this realm would be a thing of harsh beauty were it not for the utterly lifeless nature of it.