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

'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.'

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

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

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.

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

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

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

The dead, when buried without last rites, often find it impossible to rest easy...

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

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

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

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 product of centuries of slow, careful, painstaking work, a testament to the Old Ways and the power of Thaumaturgy, the Cathedral of Light is known of across the whole of Kuramen.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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