[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) Front Gate -> Main Tent
[color=firebrick][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Fal'shbort[/i] (Passive), [i]Tretiy Glaz[/i] (Passive), English [/center][hr]

	[color=firebrick]"Обман! Предательство! Мы были сбиты с пути!"[/color][sub]1[/sub] shouted the imposing form of The Great Bazhooli as the thick and colorful fabric of the inner tent collapsed from its rope moorings and began to settle around him. In true and austere form fitting a man of his upbringing and station, the legendary performer quickly halted the voicing of his outrage and the suspicions arising therefrom to throw back the entirety of his goblet of aromatic, late harvest wine. As the final drops were shaken from its rim, the tent cloth finally landed upon him, its deceptive weight pressing his arms down to his sides and wrenching the cup from his hand. 

	Vladimir was dead certain that this Talink fellow had something to do with it. It made little sense otherwise. He was already acting in a manner that was suspicious, skulking about the front gate like an unwelcome visitor, only to be allowed in after Elizaveta put forward her thoughts on the matter. Now [i]that[/i] made no sense to him. He was of the family that made threats against the Lady Crypt, now revealed to be of a branch of his own family's progenitor line. And now this man was led into the heart of their transitory home, only to follow up with this highly distracting event. No. No, he must find a way out of this canvas Bastille and see to the business of his Family and his Circus. Vlad would get to the bottom of this, no matter how many times he would have to engage in the less subtle aspects of knifery more akin to "push in, pull out, repeat 'till dead". Oh yes, he [i]would[/i] get to the bottom of this chicanery. But first...

	It was too cumbersome to go for his saber right now, engaged as he was in the folds and seams of the tent fabric. But a knife? Oh yes. He had many about his person; it was a very few mild muscle movements for him to draw one near to his hand and find a seam to which he would apply it. He had hoped for a seam. It was easy to repair and the awl-marks would guide whichever roustabout was tasked with its mending. Vlad pressed the tip of his blade into it with surgical precision, parting the strings that held it taut. Short popping sounds issued and Vladimir could feel the cool rush of fresh air reaching him, informing him of his success in escaping whatever paltry trap this was. [color=firebrick]"A foolish thing to attempt, try to restrain Great Bazhooli!"[/color] he called with as much dramatic flourish he could out into his voice, given the circumstances  [color=firebrick]"I vill find, an I vill get truth! Da, ve have vays!"[/color] 

	The Great Bazhooli grabbed either side of the seam, somewhat awkwardly with his right hand as it was also encumbered with a blade, and gave a great heft. Strings parted, albeit with effort. The canvas partition was made to withstand a lot of trauma. Just not at a broken seam. It was then that he realized that he could not tell one lump underneath the cloth from another. So much as he would have loved to take a tent pole to the nearest body, he was unable to differentiate one person from another, shrouded as they all were. No, he would have to help before he got his answers, and that guy Talink was likely just as trapped as everyone else. For now. Fine, help people now, find out the truth, celebrate [i]even later[/i]. 

	This evening was becoming highly annoying. 



[hider=Translations]
1	=	Deceit! Treachery! We have been led astray! 
[/hider]




[hr][hr][center][h1][color=c0c0c0][i][b]Sister Mary Ignatia Hale[/b][/i][/color][/h1][/center]
[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/474x/82/54/0d/82540d6136ce1f6f809735b7e793127b--redhead-makeup-molly-quinn.jpg[/img]
[sub][color=c0c0c0]"In God's name let us go on bravely." -Joan of Arc[/color][/sub]
[hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park), Veta's Tent -> Stable area
[color=c0c0c0][b]Skills:[/b][/color] Horseback Riding [/center][hr][hr]

	The uproar coming from elsewhere in the Circus gave Mary pause. It was not exactly what she had in mind, but as long as no one was hurt nor unduly inconvenienced, it would have to suffice. She had done worse, granted, but not to people who had given her shelter. The only thing that kept her from voicing some manner of objection was the fact that their need was great, and an innocent needed their help. Mary had her suspicions, after the attack at Almack's. So far as she was concerned, this fell precisely in the realm of something that she needed to investigate. 

	To that end, she gave a sharp nod to Elizaveta's request to make for the stables, and ensure that Virginia was with her. She had a fine horse waiting on her that probably wanted desperately to hit an open field and push itself, kicking up clods of dirt and grass behind it. As the Grand Duchess darted off, Mary followed suit. It was a short sprint to the back of the Circus; the young Apostolic knew where to go. She bore her bundle of vestments in the same hand as her halberd, leaving one free to reach for Virginia. [color=c0c0c0]"This way, Virginia!"[/color] she called subtly, using an element of informality purely for the sake of speed and convenience. [color=c0c0c0]"You are with me, my Lady."[/color] 

	Mary made her way back to the stables at brisk, solid pace, and quickly located her horse Cassius. She threw her saddle and bags over the grand beast's back, securing everything with the quick, practiced movements of an experienced rider. She was a Knight, and this was her trusty steed, were it put to writing for future generations to ponder over. Mary then swung herself atop Cassius and held out a hand for her friend Virginia. For once in a great while, Mary had a beaming look that was close to excitement, were she to allow herself the luxury of strong emotion. [color=c0c0c0]"I've got you, Lady Crypt. By your leave, let us find the road north."[/color]