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

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

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

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

'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.'

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...

Sometimes, you just need to stash something away - some spare cash, a holdout weapon, your gender...

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

"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.

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

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

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.

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