[u][b]Gutch enters Tradise[/b][/u]
He had been on the road for some time now, wandering aimlessly. In the distance a foreign sound could be heard, a merry cacophony drifting over the horizon. This new sound intrigued him. He stepped off the track and began walking towards the new sound, swishing through the overgrown meadow, completely oblivious to the stunning world around him. His sole focus was the delicious thought of innocent merry he could seep his influence over. The meadow tapered off into a gentle slope leading down into a nearly perfect bowl. Within the massive divot was a colourful extravaganza of flags and tents and throngs of people. This was the source of the cacophony. 

Gutch tasted the air and grinned. He began to lope towards the settlement before pausing suddenly. He could feel something. The air was thick with an energy that was foreign to him. His malicious aura was reacting poorly with whatever power resided over this face. He sneered and spat at the grass. His acrid mucus hissed and evaporated suddenly. His eyes widened. He thought better of continuing on this path. 

Instead he surveyed the horizon with a studious eye. Some distance along the valley's rim seemed to be a small encampment along a thronging road into the larger settlement. He set course to his next target. Hopefully this hostile influence was limited to the valley proper. Maybe he could sow the seeds of evil within this town. As he neared the town he sniffed out any visual clues towards how this foreign place worked. His beady eyes studied these colourful permanent tents and the smattering of more firm buildings. The skyline of the squat place was broken up by an eclectic collection of bright flags and pennants: as of yet meaningless to him. 

The sounds of merriment taunted him throughout his trek around the rim, as he neared the town he could hear even more. It seemed non-stop. Now that the novelty had worn off, he found that this new sound irritated him. It reminded him that the people within had remained too comfortable. Unpestered. More than he could allow.

He didn't enter the town through the main road. He slipped between a big round tent and a larger building that a raucous chorus of chatter emanated from. Once on the main street he glanced around. A steady stream of traffic flowed through the place, some stopping, most passing straight through and into the valley. It seemed like the settlement was almost completely lined up neatly on either side of the road. A few structures lay behind the highstreet and hung about in the grass, but he doubted they were important. He noticed everyone around him seemed to have a lairy grin plastered on their faces. He scowled behind his mask. Some of the passersby gave the strange man strange looks, but most of them paid no heed. 

He decided to explore the gathering place on his right first. He turned and found the door. No one prevented him from entering. In fact no one noticed him enter. As he passed the threshold, the noise increased. A wall of jeering bodies was centered around whatever was going on in the middle of the room. He grinned. He slipped the black shard out of his waistband, palmed it casually, and walked behind the crowd. The perfect edge cut through the plain man's linen tunic with the lightest touch and left such a fine cut in his rear thigh that he didn't notice he had been cut until Gutch had slipped past and lost interest, tucking the blade back into his loincloth nonchalantly. Gutch grinned as he picked the man's curses out from the din and turned his attention to the central highlight. The group of men had pitted a cock against some kind of weasel and were currently screaming at them as if they might have understood their drunken instructions if they were loud enough. 

This was almost something Gutch could get behind. The mundane novelty wore off after a few seconds of watching the cock strut about and the weasel-thing rear up and hiss at it. It reminded him of so many fights he had seen before: more bark than bite. But he supposed those of bland tastes didn't see it like that. His eyes wandered to a smug man wearing a tall hat counting something in a heavy looking pouch. He had the glint of desire in his eyes. Maybe this could be an opportunity. 

He spent some time predicting what the best course of action could be. As the flames in his mind began to reach into his retinas he was brought back to the room by a sudden roar. The lively crowd had erupted after the cock had managed to pin the weasel-thing by the neck and was now savaging the creature with it's fierce beak. Tall hat man grinned wickedly. Gutch prowled through the crowd, sliding through it like a barrel of eels. He lurked behind the tall hat man; he was focused on the fight. His heavy pouch sat against his hip. Gutch peered into it as conspicuously as he could. It was full of metal disks, with some unidentifiable emblems on them. Curious. He imagined their possible function. Very strange. These trinkets intrigued him.

Until now Gutch had remained unnoticed within the busy room, even the man he had been watching. [color=003471]"I am you." [/color] Three powerful magic words. Staining his tongue. The man looked over with the every touch that chilled through his soul. A moment of unease. Something that marked his ultimate fall. Before an overwhelming urge to comply. washed over him. He had seen something he could understand. So instead he complied with it's will. The man was talking to a copy of himself. He was overwhelmed. Gutch held up a finger to his face. The man in the tall hat pointed at the fight. His beast had crippled the other. With a broken appendage the from the winged champion, the weasel-thing was flipped over and had it's throat cut.

The man in the tall hat owned the winning animal. The other men in the gatehouse were busy settling the handovers required to exchange these little metal disks. This metal was powerful. It was new. But something made it valuable. Gutch, still appearing as the other man, was handed a stack of coins. The other men returned to get rid of their freshly dead cat weasel beast. 

The original man shook his head in disbelief. Gutch turned and left the building. He stood outside the mouth of the alley. Holding out the stack of coinage. The man turned walked into the shade between the line of houses. Gutch smiled and reached forward with the coins. He slipped the stack into the large pouch and dropped the coins in. Suddenly the shadow flashed and Gutch stepped confidently past and back into the hall.

His localised illusion evaporated away from him and he went back to slipping through the crowd. He approached a disheveled man sitting on a cloak on the wall. He sat on a cloak, staring blankly at a wall, sitting in front of 3 shallow wooden cups. He looked up at Gutch, looming over him. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn't gain much life. Gutch held out a handful of coins. "Wou "You wanna to play?" Gutch ignored him at pulled at the cloak under him. Dumping the handful of coins in his lap. He snatched them up and rolled off of his ragged brown cloak. Grumbled at his hastiness "Sure, just get away from me." Gutch tossed the cloak over himself and slithered off into the crowd his is sack of coin.