#one here

Arlo Broadbrush, Painter

No matter what they did, no matter where they went, at the end of every chapter of their story, there it was: The Painted Mountain. The object of their ultimate envy.

They moved across the world, opened a studio, made a new life... and then the World's Breath blew, and suddenly there it was in front of them.

They threw themselves into their work. Completed their "masterpiece." And the day they unveiled it, Smazoney unveiled a new color of paint on the rock wall.

It was the scourge of their existence, the source of their misery, always waiting until they were at their peak to flip them backwards and send them tumbling back to furious jealousy.

Where they went, it didn't matter. Eventually, if they waited, the Painted Mountain would appear, and they'd know. This chapter of their story was over. Soon jealousy would take over and they'd be reduced to nothing once more.

Had Tarkanian listened to his mentors, he would've known how dangerous grain silos can be. He would've kept his silo up to code. He would've kept the lanterns away from it. One stray ember, that's all it took. One single stray ember.

Spark Queensgrove, Glub-Glub Player

A great game of Glub-Glub is all about repetition. The way to truly learn about a player is to study every one of their games, identify the things they always come back to.

That was where great players emerged. You had to look past the coincidences, to the things the player came back to every single time. It was there you'd find the source of their strength, and their weaknesses. Then, once you crack the code, you use it to work with them--or to crush them.

Spark knew that. And yet, when they were assigned to play alongside Crush Hammerfall... they cut corners. They coasted. And it showed.

Aleister Chalk, Art Critic

"What do these pieces all have in common?"

"What unexpected patterns emerge when we view them together?"

"What do we suppose is the source of the artist's inspiration?"

It was as though Fillibuster Farnheim had cracked the code on how to deliver a mediocre art lecture without actually... saying anything. Aleister hated Fillibuster, the kind of burning hate you have for someone who once inspired you to greatness, only to settle into comfort and apathy.

Aleister wanted Fillibuster's spot so badly. To be leading the lecture, asking the questions to illuminate a piece, not just prattle on about it.