[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=B22222]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=B22222][b]Location:[/b][/color] Bristol Ship 
[color=B22222][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Fal'shbort[/i] (Passive), [i]Tretiy Glaz[/i] (Passive), English [/center][hr]

	The foul and noxious demon of motion sickness came rolling back into the eyes and midsection of the fabled circus performer known to mortal men as The Great Bazhooli. It was with a certain lack of dignity that he, from within his cabin, searched frantically for someplace to unload what remained of the British street food from his stomach. He attempted to open the small, circular window, unaware of the proper application of the latch. Perhaps it was something to give greater attention to at a later time, but today, now, right at this moment, he had more a more pressing issue at hand. 

	Finally, he came to realize that he could not keep the partially liquefied food down any longer. And by "finally", he came to this worldly and sage conclusion about six or so seconds after the most recent onset of esophageal expulsion threatened to take place. It was a sad state to see a man so venerated laid low by the same common affliction that affected everyone else. Soon he might even be accused of snoring and taking to the horse races, rather than snoring and [i]participating[/i] in the horse races. With merited consideration, Vladimir took what option he had available to him: He threw open the door to the cabin and let fly his vomitous barrage upon the deck. It splattered unceremoniously in a line starting a foot or two from the cabin door and reached outward, mostly straight but allowing for some minor variation due to the pitch and yaw of the sailcraft. 

	As if expecting applause, Vladimir extended his arms to either side and bowed, closed the door back shut, and looked to Constantin. [color=B22222]"Bozhe moi... Maybe, maybe ve share bucket somehow, da? Middle of floor? Roshambos, for maybe?"[/color] 



[hr][hr][center][h1][color=c0c0c0][i][b]Sister Mary Ignatia Hale[/b][/i][/color][/h1][/center]
[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/dd4e4d8d-94e8-4f69-a8f6-1063154d3810.jpg[/img]
[sub][color=silver]“And I heard a voice from heaven saying, “Write this: Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.”” -Revelation 14:13[/color][/sub]
[hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] Carlisle (F8) 
[color=c0c0c0][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Audist[/i] [/center][hr][hr]

	Prayer was not in within the will of the dice, nor was it the decision of God Almighty to allow for the proper time to effect words of supplication in combat. Quite the opposite, as it turned from a sudden victory over the forces of darkness and atrophy into a sudden reversal of fortune. The bright spot where luck met with skill, resulting in a clean and smooth continuation of this pitched battle to the favor of the living, was quenched in an instant. Mary knew this lesson better than most; it only takes an instant for things to go horribly wrong. 

	Mary's grip upon her halberd was not ideal, following the skilled but desperate maneuver she had just executed. Her address to the Ryne, the invocation of the Trinity, was perhaps premature, as was her immediate attempt to hurl her weapon into the body of the Soulless a number of meters away. By the time she had extended her arm to release the godly instrument of His wrath into its target, the Ryne had somehow crossed the total distance from where it once stood, to where Mary was. Strong hands batted the halberd away from Mary's grasp, and before it even hit the ground the thing was upon her, ripping and tearing at her flesh in a manner that meant only one thing: Dame Commander Hale's life had but a moment remaining. 

	She could not even cry out. The damage done to her throat did not permit it. There were only a few short, gurgling seconds remaining before Mary would meet her God and make an accounting of her decisions in life. Right at that second, the only regret that she had was that she was leaving her friend to handle this task by herself. The light began to leave her eyes and she slumped to the ground. This was the price of her profession. That was all.