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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

'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.'

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

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

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

Adapted to the northern tundra, these hardy little insects dwell among the Fireleaf ferns...

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.

'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

"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."

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

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.

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

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.

Some people have neither good nor bad luck; they instead have a certain whimsy of fate attached to them, placing them at the center of bizarre events whether they wish it or not. Joseph Random is one such individual...