Of the worlds that make up all creation, there's only one where gold falls from the sky, in a land named "Goldfall".
Half the world was born on continents shaped like teeth, the other on a crystal iris. Many creatures were born to this home. One of the newest being dubbed "the hughex"
Made of flesh and blood, this infant race began its life as feeble and vulnerable. Until they spread across the land, susceptible to the crystals around them, mutating the hughex through generations into the five races that inhabit the five pieces of the iris.
The purbled: Who are hughex at their most unaltered.
The alchemech: Who have poison in their blood and are immune to medicines and toxins.
The py'roh: Fireproof, hyper intelligent scholars who have mastered the crystals.
The clyoh: The giants who built the world with their gears.
And the queven: The hunters who have become beasts to combat beasts.
These hughex quickly populated every continent on the crystal iris before forging a government under the loving eye of the Crossweaver and her oathkeepers.
Under her guidance, Goldfall has enjoyed a long peace. However peace does not quench the thirst of adventure.
Amongst the calm, three adventurous lifestyles were crafted.
The hunters.
The heroes.
And the hoodlochs.
Driven by survival, altruism, or greed, these individuals venture out into the dangerous wilds of Goldfall beyond the borders of the Crossweaver and her colonies, finding gore as well as glory.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Into the musical pub walked the tall, lanky man with the tattered clothes and the bushy mustache. His limbs as thin as pencils silhouetted to appear as a man. His long, skinny fingers wrapped around his intricate pipe shaped like a saxophone he occasionally drew puffs from.
He stepped with swagger across the pub, dancing to the beat of the band. They were playing his second favorite song, the one where the woman sung about her lost lover and how she may never find another.
With the man's long nose, he could smell the wax dripping off the exposed candles lighting the room in their mood setting glow. He Tapped his heels all the way to a booth adjacent to the beautiful musician; Her vocal cords could have been cut from the most exotic of instruments.
He sat with crossed legs, taking more breaths from his pipe. Tapping his fingers to the tune. He was able to enjoy a long serenade before an ominous figure had walked through the pub's swinging doors. The hooded figure had no pep in their steps. Only making a concentrated line for the man and his empty booth.
