[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=B22222]Vladimir Alexandrov[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]
https://thumbs.gfycat.com/FreeYellowishAdamsstaghornedbeetle-small.gif[/img][h3][color=firebrick][sub][i]Actor Dramatization - Not an actual Great Bazhooli[/i][/sub][/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]

	So there was some sort of mystical chicanery afoot! Certainly, that must be the case. Whatever force of nature or act of magic that had moved the boat at such stunningly impossible speeds had not been as fluid of a transition as its originators had thought, for nothing short of witchcraft or bad borscht would have been able to lay the stomach of The Great Bazhooli low. In its own strange way, it was comforting. If he was correct, it was not the forces of the tides nor the accomplishment of any mortal creature that caused Vladimir to litter the deck with partially digested Fishes & Chips, nay, but the manipulation of supernatural forces. Such must be required to rattle a Bazhooli. 

	It was a nice sentiment, anyway. Into each generation Providence selected another Great Bazhooli, but the one chosen simply exhibited the best possible qualities of the concept of "The Great Bazhooli", given the choices available. Each was just as fallible as the last. Sadly, the concept of Pride was usually one of those failings. Such it was with Vladimir Dmitrievich Alexandrov. Another one of his failings (that day at least), as every man on board the ship was about to witness, was a singular sort of tunnel vision that prevented him from noticing a mast directly in his path. [color=B22222]"Too far north? Sorcery! Act of Bitches! Vait, is not... Vitches! Da, act of Vitchcrafts. Is vhat I am meaning."[/color] he thought for a second, [color=B22222]"But is helping us, yes? Is for some purpose. Huh? SOMETHING THERE? Let me see - !"[/color] The immediate turnaround to attempt to witness the dot of something in the distance was all that the mast needed to commit an act of assault on the legendary Circus performer. Vlad slammed into it face first, flattening his prominent but well-formed schnoz into the weathered, smooth wood. 

	Between the application of [i]Fal'shbort[/i] and the once living tree that made up the mast, the inanimate object proved to be tougher, stronger, and more Russian than even the Greatest of Bazhoolis. Vladimir stumbled back before coming to rest very hard upon his buttocks in the middle of the deck, his nose streaming crimson and tweaked at an uncomfortable angle. [color=B22222]"Мы налови́ли дохуя́ ры́бы! Мой кот ча́сто срёт под дива́ном! Переда́й, ёб твою́ мать, во́дку!"[/color][sub]1[/sub] he bellowed, though his voice was a tad off because of the nasal obliteration. In English, he said simply, [color=B22222]"Costantin! You are right. Fuck boat."[/color] 

[hider=Translations]
1	=	(Nasty, uncomfortable swear words and phrases that should not be uttered in polite company or around children.)
[/hider]