The daughter of a long line of Shinto priestesses, Mei has sworn to protect her adopted city of Washington from the dark godlings that infest it, feeding upon the greed and lust of those who live there. There's just one little hitch...

A beautiful warrior woman, with a sword and soul of ice.

When man thinks of the wild, he thinks of the lush greenery of the forest, of the majestic plains and the deep mountains. He thinks of the elegant wild deer, of the mighty bear and the stealthy wolf. But there is another side to nature. This is the Legacy of one who learned.

Undead abominations born of the Light, the glow of the Accursed's warped flesh strikes terror into those who behold it.

The legendary blacksmith, founder of clan Ironspirit, and he whom brought the steel of the Gods themselves to mortal man.

While we're talking about the subject of constructing religions, I'd like to bring up the concept of the Creed. The creed is nothing more than a simple statement of the religion's beliefs, meant to be recited. If you cannot write a creed for your monotheistic religion, it probably needs work on internal consistency. Creed examples:

A coward's ring, Spathi's Ring of Elusion allows the magi wearing it easy escape from battle, and a parting shot to be remembered by at the same time.

One of the common variations on magic is the concept of 'sword mages' or 'knight mages'. We all know and love them as the folks in full plate that split globes in twain with flaming swords, before twirling around to change their flame sword to an ice sword so they can stab the flaming angel of vengeance in the chest to maximum effect.

An otherwise simple spear, the dread blade of Hatred brings rot and decay to all it strikes, be it armour, body, or soul.

The result of a disastrous summoning accident involving a fire elemental, a pig farm, and a farmer's daughter, bacon elementals can only be described as delicious.

Those cast out of eternal life by the Great God Juffo find themselves lost forever in the Non. Here, away from both His Holy Warmth and the cold, harsh vengance of His Adversary, Zeln, there is truly nothing.

Even as humans can be, the Kel'Regar, too, can be touched by madness, and it can drive them to push to ends incomprehensible by the sane. The work of one such, Kararemi'ar'Salm'Torat, the Menangerie of Mad Creation, is a twisted, living structure, tormented by years of loneliness and incomprehensible need.

A mid-sized sailing ship with an embedded Shard of the Storm.

Here am I, floating in a tin can, far above the moon, Planet Earth is blue, and there's nothing I can doo.

A druid obsessed with Nature's cycle of death has created a horrendous spore in a plot to rid the lands of a swiftly growing town that has begun to encroach upon his forest.

A brightly colored ink that hardens the skin.

All know that Elves cannot die, and that Men do. All know that Men go unto the Underworld upon their death, and that the Elves retire unto the Spiritual Elysium. Yet in the Great Scheme, where goes the one with one foot in the Underworld, and one foot in the Realm of Spirit?

Forged of destruction, in the name of hatred, Winter's Tempest is a cold echo of its parent blades, yet still it bears the destruction of the frozen elements.

A dark dagger of song, forged for vengance. It shall have that vengance.

This enormous blade is capable of leveling more than just men.