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

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

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

"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."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'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.'

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

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

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