A nearly forgotten god of hatred, vengeance, death, and decay, whose priesthood seeks his violent rebirth.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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