[center][b]Cloudhaven Market District - Midday[/b][/center]

Two days! Two days since liberation, Ivan thought, leading Pyotr - or rather, his own body now - through the masses and masses of people shopping as if the apocalypse was upon them, or thrashing around in feeble displays of grief or anger. Only two days, and he felt more alive than he had in the past ten years! His painted face held a wide grin, made even wider by the black paint around his lips, exaggerating his mouth especially in contrast to the white colour that was spread over most of his face. So many of them, trying to find an exit, an out from this world - an out from the world that gave him such ample opportunity to make something of himself, to be someone! The harlequin shook his head. How people could prefer the [i]other[/i] world over this, he'd never understand. He sped up his steps, trying to get to one of those coveted spots on the market that let plenty of people see him and his display, making his way through the bodies with quick strides, his resolve strengthened. He might not be able to give those people the out they desired, and he might not be able to understand their desire to leave at all, but he still couldn't abide seeing sad faces in the crowd. Not in his city, not while he was the artiste! The crowd was to be delighted! Their minds taken off their troubles if just for a little while! Taking his place on a slightly elevated part of the district that with a lot of imagination might have resembled a stage, he looked over at the people and cleared his throat loudly.
[b]"HUH-UM! Taking place right here, in the Market District of Cloudhaven, after our blessed King Edward so UNJUSTLY banned my performances in Bluegate, a one-act-play about how things sometimes seem worse than they are, written and played by Pyotr the Harlequin! ENTER 'Our Anguished and Bedevilled Hero' LEFT!" [/b]
The expression on his face changed as he indeed walked to the left, with the paint on his face making every nuance easily recognised by the people who actually watched, and his shoulders slumped. With an exasparated sigh, he went back to the middle of his 'stage', his arms crossed, and his words coming out in a dull monotone. 
[b]"Man, life's such a drag sometimes. Pray tell, spirits, what have I committed to deserve all of this?"[/b]
His posture and expression changed back in an instant as he flourished wildly, back to his previous stance, shouting again.
[b]"What a poor, pitiable man! But fear not, for what is this? I spy a good man, a savior, arriving! ENTER 'A Helpful Spirit' LEFT!"[/b] 
With no break, he took the role of the new character in his play, flourishing and gesturing wildly, continuing his odd display to excite the people. The world needed adventurers and guilds, surely, but there was no doubt that it also needed those that kept their spirits up - especially when life seemed so sad to most. If he did a good enough job of it, a guild might even want to hire an accomplished artist such as him!