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

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

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

"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."

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

The simplest way to tell if someone is a Thaumatech Engineer is often to ask to see his kit bag...

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

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

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.

A small silver lantern, at whose heart there burns a shard of ice.

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

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

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.

'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