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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

A set of pale white panpipes, etched with images of the winter storms...

"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."

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

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.