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

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

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

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 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

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

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.

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

But, O Fellow Denizens of the Citadel, I ask this - what other kinds of unique elements can you come up with?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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