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

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.

'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.'

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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