[hr][hr][center][h1][color=9e0b0f][b]Российский императорский цирк[/b][/color][/h1][/center]
[center][color=9e0b0f][b](Russian Imperial Circus)[/b][/color][/center][hr][hr]

	In the more secretive recesses of the Russian Imperial Circus, the cooks and vendors gathered by order of The Great Bazhooli himself, Master Vladimir Alexandrov. They were tasked with turning their wares to internal use, that is to say, shared among the people of the Circus rather than put up for sale to the general public. It made sense, considering that absolutely no one from the great city of London had left their homes in search of entertainment as only the Circus could provide. Their prepared yummies would have gone to waste otherwise, if not shared among the performers, staff, and guests thereof. 

	It was a large circus, chock full of interesting and unique persons from across the Russian Empire (and even a few from parts beyond), but they were a tight knit group. Trust was a necessity among these stalwart individuals, considering the nature of their work and the Circus's side occupation: taking care of Soulless threats across their Empire. They contained their own share of cutpurses, troublemakers, prostitutes, and the like, but the unwritten yet fiercely enforced rule was "Circus takes care of Circus". No matter what, they see to the safety and needs of their own. Further, they do not turn their skills upon one another unless mutually agreed upon by both. Disputes were taken to those in charge who arbitrate these matters, and if need be, a bit of bareknuckle negotiation might be in order. It is the way it has been since just about the beginning of the Circus, its ways taken heavily from the Rusyn Gypsies of the Carpathian Mountains. To do a wrong against one of their own is a matter to be taken very seriously, with swift and harsh judgement imposed upon the transgressor. 

	To steal from one of their own was unthinkable. Perhaps this is why, in the Tent City of the Russian Imperial Circus now pitched in London's own Regent's Park, a single preparer of Meats On Sticks was so affronted by that very issue: Theft from one of their own. He paced for a moment or three, debating whether he should seek revenge upon the transgressing party personally or if that would only make it worse. "[b]Нет![/b]" he started, "[b]Я сообщу или Великому Бажули! У него будут руки для этого![/b][sub]1[/sub]" and emphasized his displeasure by slamming his fists upon the outdoor kitchen's worktable. What happened next would be whispered about for decades to come. 

	Unbeknownst to the workers, the particular board that he struck mercilessly in his anger was held onto the frame by a dry-rotted wooden peg. The peg gave way, allowing the full force of the strike to be applied in the manner of a lever, catapulting a small pot of lightly simmering gravy up and away into the crowd milling about the food service area. It landed squarely in the face of a passing clown, who began screaming and feeling about for the nearest thing he could remember that could possibly remove the offending substance from his eyes. What he thinks is a tent flap was unfortunately one of the Circus's many lit braziers, searing his hands and setting his clothing aflame. Horrified bystanders rushed to knock the unfortunate soul over and smother the fire before it can cause any lasting damage, but the now terrified comedic thespian instead runs full-tilt into one of the animal pens (screaming all the while), intending to extinguish himself in a water trough. 

	The attempt is all well and good, except that one of the steppe horses took serious offense to a warbling, flaming clown leaping into its pen, responding by rearing and kicking the fencing preventing its escape. Only one of its hooves made connection with the rough wood of the fence; the other manages to strike a tall signpost holding up one side of a banner (reading: Don't Spook The Animals). The man who was put in charge of driving that particular signpost into the ground was, upon time of committing to said task initially, coming off of (as he put it) "The mother of all benders", and really couldn't be trusted to piss in a straight line, let alone properly set a wooden pole into the green earth of The Regent's Park. Witnesses would later say that after he performed his righteously half-assed job, he vomited much in the way of stewed beets and cheese dumplings in that very area, further softening the ground in which the pole had been fruitlessly set. Needless to say, the tall signpost went down like a sackful of drunk children, crashing into a moderately sized residential tent and partially collapsing it. This tent belonged to one of the Circus's talented magicians, a bright-eyed but somewhat paranoid man who had a penchant for collecting rare and vintage tools of his craft. 

	Fearing that there was an attack imminent, the magician grabbed up the nearest items he could and ran from his tent, hoping to preserve his latest acquisition, a Selbit original "Divided Woman" saw. More of a guillotine blade than an actual saw, the item would be put through its paces cutting through vegetables and planks of wood before used in the trick, just to show the audience that it was fully capable of taking a Lovely Assistant and turning her into Two Lovely Assistants, just much shorter and less talkative afterwards. While running at top speed away from his failing tent, he turned his head to one side to view an interesting sight: Apparently, there was a gingerly charred and half naked clown climbing out of a nearby horse pen, soaking wet and yelling something about gravy. The sight of it so intrigued the young prestidigitator that he began to stare, even as he fled the scene. 

	He did not suspect that he would almost immediately trip over an unattended laundry bag and, thanks to certain principles involving objects at motion, fling the saw out before him even as he planted his face in the grassy earth and inexpertly utilized the better half of his forehead as an impromptu braking system. The saw itself managed an impressive triple axel before effortlessly parting the skin, meat, and bone of Alexandra Andonova's slender neck and thudding heavily into a thick, wooden support that was holding up a corner of the cook's pavilion roof. It quivered there, producing a strangely beautiful hum that reverberated through the beam in which it was embedded, dripping one or two spots of red beneath it. 
	

[hider=Translations]
1	=	I will inform The Great Bazhooli! He will have her hands for this!
[/hider]

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[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/3068ada6-2525-4e47-b1a8-14d98dfb6177.jpg[/img][/center][hr][center][color=firebrick][b]Passive Skills:[/b][/color] [list][*] [u]Fal'shbort[/u] - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian! [*] [u]Tretiy Glaz[/u] - An ability that gives a person a sixth sense into the future. Unpredictable and random.[/list][/center][hr][hr][center][color=firebrick][b]Location:[/b][/color] Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) [/center][hr][hr]

	A quiet spattering of blood struck The Great Bazhooli just below his right eye. He was just about to respond to the callous remark concerning the well-being of the Grand Duchess, but it seemed that fate had decided a more interesting means of communication that evening. The younger woman's eyes blinked twice before the entirety of her head came rolling off, landing Vldimir's outstretched hands while the horse trotted away with the bulk of her corpse, now slumped to the side and bouncing merrily along, painting a red, damp path behind it. 

	Luckily, Adam's attention was diverted by a flaming clown that appeared randomly in their general vicinity, and curiosity as to his fate held the boy's attention just long enough for his to miss the gruesome end of the lady performer who was formerly speaking to Vlad from up on horseback. Of course, there was the matter of the head... 

	The Great Bazhooli, in an act of concern for what might be exposed to the little Cockney boy, grabbed the severed head by the hair and whisked it behind his back a half-second before Adam looked right back at him. Surprise and badly acted nonchalance colored his features, especially the nervous grin splitting his face that was accented with spots of someone else's blood. [color=firebrick]"Da, Petrov!"[/color] he exclaimed, wide eyed and unsure of what to do with the severed noggin hidden from direct view behind his ass. [color=firebrick]"For please, you take him to other side of pavilion, da? Umm... I think, ah... Yes! Dumplings! There are dumplings there!"[/color] He had no idea if the trapeze artist caught what was going on, but Vladimir needed to get this mess straightened away before any of the newly approaching carriages caught wind of the epic misadventure. 

	Of course, the more selfish bit of his mind had The Great Bazhooli interested in squaring this away because he really wanted to get together with the rest of the Sem'ya present and engage in the grand dance of fire, knives, and acrobatics they had done so many times before, but this time for the entertainment of the Graveolase and the spirited boy, Adam. Admittedly, the unexpected death of one of their performers as evidenced by the freestanding head that Vladimir presently held took priority. 

	Then it occurred to him: This is really a job for the Circus Manager, Viktor, to handle. Oh yes, it was time to delegate. 



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[sub][color=c0c0c0]"I will speak the truth at all times, and forever keep my word."[/color][/sub]
[hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) [/center][hr][hr]

	[color=c0c0c0]"I see."[/color] responded Mary. She was a little crestfallen, to be sure. It would have been good to see her home country again, if only the southernmost portion of it, but if Elizaveta wanted total lack of communication then Mary very likely could not join her self-appointed mission. She was a Dame of the Catholic Church. Dame Commander, now, and Arch Graveolase on the interim. Any official movement to this effect would ideally be communicated. At the least, the Bishop would have to know that St. Etheldreda's resident Knight would be away for a while. Plus, she was charged with the care of little Adam and had promised Virginia that she would extend her protection, such as she was able, to her younger brother. 

	Perhaps she was spreading herself too thin. She had a tendency to do this, one of the tiny psychological signs that reminded her that she was still a young woman yet. She would pray for patience and wisdom later, but for now, Mary nodded in agreement with the Grand Duchess. [color=c0c0c0]"I have a fine horse. An excellent horse; he was a gift from The Pope. I have seen the skill of your people on horseback. Even with my fine horse, I do not think I could keep up on a pressed overland journey. I do desire to ride with you and see to this problem directly. However, I understand your concern. Please, do not go alone. You have many skilled fighters here that would give their lives for you."[/color]

	Mary could see the carriages approaching as well. This was an important night for several reasons. Before exiting the tent and moving to meet them, Mary quietly intoned to Veta, [color=c0c0c0]"I will not lie. But that does not mean that I must volunteer information, either. I will do as you request."[/color] Mary stepped outside into the evening air. Taking greater notice of the procession, she could also make out the presence of her friend Virginia and her brother James. Those riders [i]were[/i] fast. Mary raised a hand in greeting, unsure as to whether she would be picked out of the crowd. The polearm might help.