Sometimes, you just need to stash something away - some spare cash, a holdout weapon, your gender...

"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 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.

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

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.

Squares of colorful cloth, often enchanted with minor magics to better serve the owner - but, first and foremost, it is merely a kerchief.

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

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

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

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.

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

Once an outcast spirit of the cold, now the malevolent lord of a realm of winter unending...

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

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.

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.

'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.'

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

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

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