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...

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

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

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.

"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."

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A potion that contains the essence of Courage... In a way.

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 legendary relic, suited to base a campaign around, with the power of Creation crystallized in a single milky seed...

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.