The Ohms survive in harsh environments; in the darkness of storms out to sea and the blinding light after a great whomp of snow has covered the terrain in wild mounds of cold down. Rarely alone, the ohms are nevertheless on a lonely and perpetual search. They never rest.
They appeared out of nowhere.
A repetition of red figures having a nautical bent; no fear of sea nor storm. They are seekers, always en route somewhere. Ohms have been spied in wharfs and on the quays of little-used harbors. They move silently, often in shadow or under cover of dim and dreary skies.
Since the first recorded sighting, they’ve been spotted also in the far north, huddling beneath the aurora borealis. Its animated luminescence may hold secrets only they can read.
Ohms are alchemists.
They are shape-shifters, drifting through a waterlogged and ashen landscape in search of electricity. Lightning is the catalyst their obscure arts require.
Very little is known beyond that. As natural resistors, their interaction with lightning is presumably in tense and powerful.
With lightning they transform into gold. It’s not gold as we know it. The ohms themselves transform. Gold is a state of being; a temporary one for all but the most skilled of ohms. It is assumed to be similar to the state of nirvana. It affects not only an ohm’s connection to its higher self— but also how they interact with one another.