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

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

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

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

'It was just after nightfall when it came; a horrible, rotten mass of bone and flesh, with a voice that was like a thousand screams braided together. I only survived because I ran - I ran and I've never stopped running, because I know it's after me. Me, and everyone else who was there when the city of Vesta was slaughtered.' -Hans, Former Captain turned nomad

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

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

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.

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.

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

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.

"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."

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

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.

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

Prized for the metallic sheen of the foliage, this peculiar plant dwells on the banks of mountain rivers, relying on heavy metals and photoelectric power to spread itself

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

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...

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

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