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

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

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

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

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

Carved to bring glory to the Patient One, the silent and frigid Abomination that holds dominion over the frozen wastes, the Glacier's Fist is heralded as a deadly weapon, but the true purpose of it is a much more subtle thing.

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

"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."

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

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

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.

At first appearing to be glass, this ring of enchanted ice is a boon to those in wintery climes...

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

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.

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

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

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

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...