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

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.

The corrupted god of war, felled by the lost god of vengeance to his present pitiable state.

The races of Kuramen are a strange lot, descending down a long lineage from the First Race; prone to dramatic evolutions and born to a world divided, each does the best it can to survive.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

"My god, what is that?"
"Orcweed, sir. Never need a wall with this growing."

"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."

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

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

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

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

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

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