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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

'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

Prized for the metallic sheen of the foliage, this peculiar plant dwells on the banks of mountain rivers, relying on heavy metals and photoelectric power to spread itself

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

'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.'

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...

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...

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

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

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

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.

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

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