No art currently, maybe you can help
Age: Over 3000 years old
Size: 6 ft tall
Species: Kuppa Hybrid
Job: Holy Monstrosity
Likes: Paint, Paint, Paint, Paint, Paint, Paint, Eating, Paint, Paint
Notable contributions: Cautionary tale
Original Creator: Enforcer
It is said that at one point Paintbucket was, although very tall and lanky, a simple and stable kuppa hybrid.
This has not been the case for a long, long time.
Paintbucket overflows multicolored paint from every single orifice in his body, constantly staining everything around him rainbows of garish yellow, pink, purple, and red among other uglier mixes.
His clothing is but a shade of its former self; a horrible mix of dried paint crust and new running layers of increasingly bright colors. Underneath his ancient and ruined art apron lies skin that is just as colorful, just as old, and just as crusty as what covers it.
The incessant paint drool that drips out of his mouth with every step is simply confirmation that Paintbucket lost his mind long ago, while the way the paint leaks from his eyes in a manner akin to crying hints at what he once was.
Paintbucket is blessed to forever repeat a cycle. Time itself stopped having a meaning to him long ago as he grew far older than any kuppa ever had the right to.
It is said that the Paintbucket of today is more animal than man, a slave to his instincts with next to no deeper level of thought. He paints. It's what Paintbucket does. It's all Paintbucket does aside from eating. Paintbucket eats a lot as well. Paintbucket's always either eating or painting. He can't and will never stop.
It is said Paintbucket does not commonly get to eat meat or plants, instead surviving off anything he can grasp. He will eat dirt, rock, and even his own paint in a trance. He adores the flavor of his own paint. He could drink, slurp, and savor it forever. In occasions he is known to crouch down and do nothing but drink his own paint for as long as months. Sometimes he will color dirt with his paint before eating it in a manner reminiscent of a simple diner, pouring dressing over a salad. Sometimes he will color the meat of his prey blue, only to change whatever remains of his mind afterwards and make it purple.
It is said that Paintbucket is highly aggressive, pouncing and devouring anything that would dare interrupt his painting sessions.
It is said that should one encounter Paintbucket, they should run as quickly and as far as they possibly can, never looking back.
It is also said that they wouldn't have a need to look. That the sound of dripping liquids getting ever closer is more than enough indication.
It is said that at one point Paintbucket was a relatively normal being. Eccentric to a fault, but definitely not the thing he is today. That he would create art day in and day out, stopping only to eat and sleep, rarely having any contact with the outside world aside from leaving his home to purchase canvases and paintbrushes.
It is said Paintbucket had friends, family, and fans of his work.
It is said Paintbucket was one of the richest men in his planet at the time, capable of obtaining anything he desired with a single snap of his fingers.
It is said Paintbucket was living the dream. Someone who was truly "free."
It is said that despite this, Paintbucket was lonely. Paintbucket was afraid. Paintbucket was empty.
It is said that he only cared about those close to him on the surface. That money had quickly become meaningless to him as he had more than any single man should ever have. That the only thing he cared about in his life was his art. That the only thing he was afraid of, was the passing of time eventually forcing him to stop creating his art.
It is said that Paintbucket was terrified of death, and that he would do anything, anything, to escape his fate.
It is said that one day, Paintbucket found himself face to face with the Singer.
It is said that before he lost his mind to his blessing, to his never-ending youth, to his gift that he had so graciously been granted, his art was beautiful.
Endless: It is said that Paintbucket will never run out of paint. Even if starved for months on end Paintbucket will continue to produce it at a constant rate. It is said that sometimes in his mindless wandering he would fall down a chasm and proceed to become unable to get out. That eventually, after some years, the chasm would fill with paint and Paintbucket would swim out.
It is said that should one manage to get past his dense armor of crust and liquid to cut Paintbucket's skin, they will be met with an overpowering torrent of pressurized paint that will last for a few seconds.
• It is said his favorite color is yellow.
• It is said that the only thing he likes more than painting or the flavor of his own paint, is flesh.
• Many speak of paintbucket as if he is a myth. A campfire tale. A being that, is only encountered at most once or twice every hundred years. But he is very real.
• Most, if not all of the information in this entry should be taken with a grain of salt, as it is mostly obtained from whispers, rumours, and cautionary tales about the Singer.
• In fact, this entry would not exist, were it not for the timeline matching up with the disappearance of a certain legendary artist named "Ccino Black". Ccino Black's original pieces are now valued at exorbitant prices easily going past the trillions.
No art currently, maybe you can help.