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

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

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

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

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

'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.'

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

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

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.

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

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...

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

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.

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.

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...

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.

Most weapons of legend are made in the days of legend; Nightfall is an exception, birthed in violence and vengeance.

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