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

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

'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

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

"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."

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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...

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

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

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...

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