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

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

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

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

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

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

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 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.

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

"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."

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

The dead, imbued with the divine essence of magic, walk again, ever hungry for the missing spark of a living soul.

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

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.

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

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...

A mystic, tired of being left behind by his more swifted-footed companions, devised this as a simple solution.

Driven by the need to keep his descendants fed, Daniel Andersson is one of the more peculiar undead - and gods - one might ever come across.

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.