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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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