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

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

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.

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."

Gnomes, fascinated with magic, tried to find a way to safely access it, and instead wound up addicted in the deadliest way.

A nearly forgotten god of hatred, vengeance, death, and decay, whose priesthood seeks his violent rebirth.

'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.'

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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