[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=firebrick]Vladimir Alexandrov[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/3068ada6-2525-4e47-b1a8-14d98dfb6177.jpg[/img][h3][color=firebrick][b][i]"[u]The Great Bazhooli[/u]"[/i][/b][/color][/h3][/center][hr][hr][center][color=firebrick][b]Location:[/b][/color] Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)
[color=firebrick][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Fal'shbort[/i] (Passive), [i]Tretiy Glaz[/i] (Passive), [i]Chteniye Dushi[/i] (Active, Soul Reading) [/center][hr]

	The Great Bazhooli added a nod of appreciation to Constantin for providing the given name of the man in front of him and stating the overt explanation for his presence. [color=firebrick]"спасибо[/color][sub]1[/sub][color=firebrick] Constantin."[/color] However, upon some inspection of the man heightened his doubts of the claim that he was an emissary in search of the Graveolase. Of course, they were present in his camp, but for a man to show up unannounced and uninvited and insist that he should be granted access? No. It seemed off. The fact that he had butchered the title that he had earned through trial and rite of passage, [i]intentionally so[/i], left Vladimir in a state of growing, bubbling annoyance. Much more of it and he may find himself shy one or two knives from his person, only to have to ask this Ludwig's corpse for permission to retrieve them from his torso. Such things would be frightfully difficult to explain to the local constabulary. If he were found. 

	Something felt off, however. The man was obviously mad, but the word that wafted to his ears was that he was exhibiting abilities unknown to the Circus, possibly by means of Training. But, most certainly a nutbar. Vladimir twirled his knives between his fingers, eyeing the man carefully. If only he had a means of determining more about the man without having to resort to painful, lingering torture that may or may not stain his fine if flashy wardrobe. But wait! As it turned out, he indeed [i]did[/i] have such a talent! Vlad opened himself to the [i]Chteniye Dushi[/i], a technique passed down by his Rusyn forebearers that allowed one to peer into the soul of another and see what lay within. 

	The murky depths of the young man's eyes did not reveal much to him. His personal madness likely was not the culprit; Vladimir had read the exquisitely insane and come back with some information. Perhaps he was too far away or could not get a good enough mental connection. Either way, what little he could discern from Ludwig was that he wasn't immediately getting a feeling of alarm from the man. It wasn't much, but it was a start. [color=firebrick]"Nyet. Not having tissue. You are having seconds to explain - vhy do you stand in our home, insulting name of our Fathers as if not expecting answer of cold, Russian steel? And if here for Graveolase, vhere is invitation? Come, hand over. The patience of The Great Bazhooli is finite and fickle as vinds."[/color]                                         



[hider=Translations]
1	=	Thank you (pronounced "Spasibo")
[/hider]