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.

'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.'

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

Once an outcast spirit of the cold, now the malevolent lord of a realm of winter unending...

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

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.

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

Thaumatechnology - in a world where straight magic has an unnerving tendency to get the user killed, either by magical catastrophe or by being lynched by an upset mob, this is a much safer form of magical use... Even if it does occasionally explode.

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

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

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

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

Born half in legend, half in cold science, Lightning's Voice is a carrier of divine wrath in an age without faith.

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