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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

A set of pale white panpipes, etched with images of the winter storms...

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

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

'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 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.

"Though they walk as men and grow as weeds, they are neither; the angry dead, feeding the green with the rage until they walk again, yellowing bones bound by the twining green."

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

"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.

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.

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

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.

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