[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=fdc68a]Ludwig Zimmer[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/049ae317-d4cc-423a-875e-132dd8a4648d.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Russian Tent City, Regent Park, London, England, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth
[b]Skills:[/b] English, Gothic, Observation, Mental Stamina, Ferret Handling[/center][hr]
	Oh that moment of change always left his head swimming slightly, as if there was a moment it wasn't swimming though. Swimming, through the waters of space and time, through distant places. He was Gulliver and these were his travels. He had just left Brobdingnag apparently through the forest of straw and hay and was now in the middle of a wonderland. It was better than being in the world of tiny people, Glindermachs or even worse being one of those horrific Cobblewinchester Muffins. How they did enjoy crawling into the ear of people and getting wrapped up in the mind. They loved snuggling up in the folds of the gray matter. Sadly, it caused the most horrific headaches and then BOOM! What many thought of as Spontaneous Combustion was nothing more than Cobble induced brain blow out. Quite horrifying and yet remarkable at the same time. It would carry those little Muffins hundreds of yard to new destinations that would have taken decades on their little feet. 

	Right good way to travel when looked at from that perspective. Was that how he got where he was. Where was he? How had he gotten there? Oh yes, he had brought himself riding on his mighty steed, which was now cradled in his arms and being handled gently. Holding Dieter close to his chest his face squished up and relaxed, then squished again. His glasses dancing along the bridge of his nose, up and down each time he did. Dust on his glasses, straw in his hair, dirt on his clothing. His mouth agape as he turned around slowly, looking up into the air and towards the sky. [color=fdc68a]"[sub]1[/sub]Ja, jetzt definitiv draußen."[/color] His hand coming up and pointing at the stars that were shining above. He finally had an answer to the question that he had asked himself sometime ago. Why he had the answer now and not earlier was beyond him, he must have been distracted by something. 

	What could have sent him mind off the path more traveled? Oh yes, there was a sword pointed at him. Why would someone point a sword at him? It must have been his ferret. The man was talking to him, not in his birth tongue. That would make things difficult. If they could not speak and not communicate how could he let him know that his ferret was nothing to fear and that he could put the sword down. This was going to be complicated. Wait, he understood. How? Had the Bablebrillance got stuck in his ear? Oh, that was ludicrous, they didn't live this far north. Well that left only three hundred more explanations but thankfully he settled on one quickly. The man was speaking a language he already knew. That narrowed it down to three. He tried one. [color=fdc68a]"[sub]2[/sub]Nun, wer bist du und was machst du hier?"[/color] No, that didn't sound like what the man had just said. Try again... [color=fdc68a][sub]3[/sub]£arjis si iqgar jah £ê galeiks?"[/color] No, that was it either. Three times a charm? [color=fdc68a]"Now, who are you and what are you doing here?"[/color] Now that was close by god!

	[color=fdc68a]"English? Yes, English is close enough,"[/color] he figured. The man said some words oddly but it would have to do for he was out of languages to try. Not to inform him of things most important. [color=fdc68a]"Dieter is just a ferret, he will not bite. Lower your sword. It is silly to hold a polecat at blade point,"[/color] he rambled as he held his hand out and slowly slipped Dieter into his bag. Pressing his hand to his chest he stepped closer to Constantin. His head tilted to the side as he did and his lips crinkled as he licked them. [color=fdc68a]"People will think you're mad and trust me, that is not a good thing for them to think. So put the sword down and I promise,"[/color] he said as he made a crossing motion over his chest, [color=fdc68a]"I won't ever tell even the hornswaddles that you held a ferret up."[/color]

	Biting hit bottom lip bother his eye brows raised high on his face and then came crashing down as they furrowed deeply. Why was he in the circus? Tapping his foot his fingers started twitching as he seemed to write, draw, and grab things in the air. His mouth falling agape again for he was in deep thought and everything improbable was very probable to him. Then his eyes seemed to light up as he snapped his fingers. His arms waving in the air as he looked back over to Constantin. [color=fdc68a]"Have the Graveolase arrived yet? I was at the council chambers but told that there was a change in venue."[/color] He was midway into reaching into his bag to pull out an envelop when bounding towards him was something he had not expect. 
	
	 A white creature which had eight legs, four arms, three heads, two torsos, and one tail! [color=fdc68a]"[sub]4[/sub]Bettnässen Seiche Eimer!"[/color] he yelled as he jumped up, his arms flailing. He did not run, no there was something in his way. Constantin. He jumped, onto the front of Constantin. Legs wrapping around the mans waist, one arm over his shoulder to hold himself there. [color=fdc68a]"[sub]5[/sub]Lauf! Lauf um dein Leben! Es ist der Veterblarg!"[/color] he yelled. It wasn't until he has slipped down the length of Constantin and found himself hugging the mans knees did he actually take a close look at the creature that was rushing by them now and off into the distance, darting through the tents as it went. 

	Slowly he got up, rolling his hips as he brushed himself off and peeked into his bag. [color=fdc68a]"Dieter?"[/color] he asked, checking and the Ferret popped his head out. Smiling he looked back over to Constantin. [color=fdc68a]"Just a tiger, nothing to worry about."[/color] Crossing his legs as he stood there he fell forward at the hip slightly and pulled a piece of straw off Constantins jacket. The mans accent finally registering in his mind and his head twisted nearly like an owls as he righted himself. [color=fdc68a]"Oh, I'm Ludwig... You are Russian? Ahh! I must be at the Circus! Glad I found you! It wasn't easy I can tell you that much!"[/color]

	
[hider=Translations]
1 - Yes, most definitely outside now.
2 - Now, who are you and what are you doing here?
3 - Now, who are you and what are you doing here?
4 - Bedwetting Piss Bucket
5 - Run! Run for your life! It is the Veterblarg!
[/hider]



[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=0072bc]Millicent Wyndham[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/4a0aae8f-3b8e-4c51-8ebe-5029b3806c43.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Heaton Hall, Heaton Park, Manchester, England
[b]Skills:[/b] Country Knowledge (England), Diplomacy[/center][hr]
	So many had fled London due to the attack on Almacks the night before. Many had not even waited out the night and had arrived in Manchester by carriage earlier that evening. Word was sent ahead of them by Stage Post. The season was already in swing so it was not much for the people of Manchester to prepare for the arrivals that would be coming through the city. Some had opted already not to go to England as of yet for it was early in the season still. One such was the Second Early of Wilton, [url=https://d3d00swyhr67nd.cloudfront.net/w300/GMI/GMI_TMG_ASTAC1979_7.jpg]Thomas Egerton
[/url]. The man preferred the life in Manchester to that in London no matter what duties called him to the capital city. 

	 Looking out of the window of the carriage as the curtain was finally drawn back Millicent found herself studying the area as best she could at this dark hour. Much of the countryside looked like the rest but thankfully Millicent was able to start piece things together as they passed different manors, crossed bridges, and more. Eventually she was able to figure out that they were now in Manchester. They had made decent time despite everything that kept trying to hold them up. If God was watching over her, he would have to work harder to stop Rutherford from getting her to Gretna Green before it was too late. Yet why would anyone stop it? She wouldn't. She still had to protect her sister from this man. It was marriage or kill him and she was no murder, at least not yet. 

	The thought had crossed her mind; every time his fingers curled into her flesh, every time his lips wet her skin, every time... Yes, she had thought about killing him. About how it would feel to let the cold steel of her blade cut through the warm muscles, through each artery and vein, letting the blood pour from his throat. At this point it was one of the few things that cause the corner of her mouth to curl up and crate a smile on her face that her fiance could not understand. Yet it was nothing more than a day dream for now. Her sister had to be protected and she knew her step mother would not do it. If Millicent were to refuse, Emma would be married off quicker than one could blink and happily so. 

	The carriage pulled up to Heaton Hall, a home which Millicent had been to as a child with her father before her training. He had business in Manchester due to the docks and the textiles. She did as well but she kept it to correspondence since she had taken over for her father in his absence. The first Earl of Wilton had been friends of the family and business associates of the Wyndhams. Millicent though had yet to meet the Second Earl even though he was running things now and was close to age. Looking up at the Hall as Rutherford pulled her from the carriage she sighed inwardly. Seemed they were having a [i]crush[/i] this evening. That was the last thing Millicent wanted to endure. Another ton party. One every Gentry and Peer in the area had been invited to attend. Yet there was nothing to do about it as she was escorted through the front doors, through the Saloon, down the hallway and straight to the formal garden. 

	"Lord Rutherford, excellent to see you again," Lord Egerton said as he twirled the edge of his mustache before glancing over towards the woman standing next to Rutherford. "And just who is this lovely creature?" he asked as he held a gloved hand out to her.

	"Why Thomas, this is my fiance. Millicent Wyndham," he said as he tensed his hand against the small of her back. Millis large brown eyes shot up from the ground and she looked towards Lord Egerton. 

	"Wyndham? You are Benedicts daughter?" he asked as he took her hand. Millicent steeled herself. 

	[color=0072bc]"That I am,"[/color] she replied as she stood there, letting him kiss the back of her gloved hand. It was never a custom that she enjoyed but it was better than her fiances touch by a mile. 

	"It is wonderful to finally put a face to all those correspondences. Had I known that you were as lovely as your penmanship, I would have made an effort to meet you face to face long before this," he said as he released her hand. Millicent wondered just how much this man was like her fiance. Business dealings were similar to relations she was finding and he had always been a bit brutish on that end. If he kept company with Rutherford, it was not lending well to his character in her eyes. 

	[color=0072bc]"I wish you had,"[/color] Millicent said and she felt Rutherfords grip tighten on her. [color=0072bc]"If only so that you could have been witness to Richards proposal,"[/color] she followed up and she felt the grip loosen somewhat. It took everything in her not to yelp in pain. Her dress might have covered the bruises, minus those that were expertly hidden beneath her makeup and the dark shadows cast in the garden, but it did not mean that her entire body did not ache and cry out with each movement she made. 

	"I am sure it was unforgettable knowing you Richard. Tell me, when did it occur?" he asked as he motioned for them to follow him for a walk through the glass encased garden. 

	"At Almacks just before the attack actually," Richard recounted. Turning he took Millicents hand and looked down at her, brushing back a loose curl from her face. "Rest here my darling, this is not something you should be subjected to twice."  His words were like ice in her veins yet she couldn't even bring herself to snatch her hand away from his. Rutherford brought his attention back to the Earl. The two went back and forth speaking of the attack as Millicent was left at a bench for she was too delicate to relive such a tragedy in their minds. 

	In truth she did feel weak recounting it and was more than grateful for the respite from Rutherford. Her sister had died that evening, a part of her had as well; whatever innocence she had had left at least. Hopes, dreams, were shattered and gone. Feeling her fingers curl against the cold granite of the bench which she sat on she brought a silk handkerchief to her eye and dabbed away the tears. She felt utterly lost and alone, in a well of darkness that was becoming overwhelming to fight back no matter the words going through her mind from her father. Pressing her hand to her stomach she felt sick and yet dead inside, it was a feeling that could not be put into words. 

	Unknown to Millicent, two were riding as fast as the carriage could carry them towards Manchester yet they were still far behind. If God (Or LLA in this case) looked favorably on them, they would arrive in Manchester come the breaking of the dawn.