Descended from humanity, the orcs of Kuramen are a far cry from the bloodthirsty savages of many other worlds.

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

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

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

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

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...

'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 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.'

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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