"How avant-garde! Truly the pinnacle of artistic expression! My heart screams at the very sight!" Brassius exclaims, to himself, as he views his latest sculpture - a smoliv about to faint during battle. The look of fear and acceptance on its small face is exactly what he was going for. It was a look he had seen in his own reflection in the past, in the throes of his depression.

Though he is doing much better now. And he is craving some sunshine on his skin after working for so long on this piece. He grabs his viny whip, he must maintain his aesthetic, and strolls out of the gym building into the centre of Artazon... and there is no sunshine to be found! It's raining!