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.

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.

"When the dolphins and whales propel themselves into the air, it is a great spectacle and joy to watch. When the Salwar launch themselves, it is a terror."

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

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

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

Known in these times as shalgiel, these beings were guardians created through ancient magic for purposes which are now forgotten.

Life is like a cheese, it starts off milk, then it curdles, and then it ages and you hope for the best.

Pardon them, they are barbarians, and think that the customs of their tribe and river are the laws of nature.
Lord Bertrand of Shawstrope

The delicate flower of the deepest Arctic, bearing the essence of ephemeral purity.

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

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 Icicle Sword is a powerful weapon of cold, but those who use it's full powers almost allways pay with their lives.

Perhaps the most destructive of Kel’Regar weapons, Summer’s Extinguisher plunges the world it is deployed on into a deep and permanent winter.

Here lad, you take it. We've been through a lot this pot and I, ever since the last Great War, but you're too young to remember that one. I had this with me in all my campaigns after that. The Althial Border Wars, the rising of the Dragon Lords, the Dwarven Rage... Ah but I'm old and toothless now an' it's no use to me. Take the pot lad, use it well. At least you'll always be guarenteed a reasonable meal

Behold, the Harbinger of ill-tidings, the blizzard rider, the thief of winter, the Stamagast.

Frozen to death by a penny pinching, cruel landlord, the Frozen Woman has found her vengeance against her killer, and now seeks to destroy those who might do unto others what was done unto her.

The establishment is run by an elderly goblin named Sax Stoneswiller. Providing this service to non-goblins is much more lucrative than what he was able to receive with his clan.

It is said that the metal cap of her beekeeper's hat has a magical substance found in enchantment devices.

30 groups of magical swords