[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=B22222]Vladimir Alexandrov[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/4744aee2-23ca-406b-a294-f131990520ca.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][hr][center][color=B22222][b]Location:[/b][/color] Port Annan (Inn)
[color=B22222][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Fal'shbort[/i] (Passive), [i]Tretiy Glaz[/i] (Passive), English [/center][hr]

	THAT WAS IT! Vladimir had finally pinned down the thing which was giving him such utter and near-total revulsion of the man earlier! It was ...[i]the eyebrows[/i]. They looked as things which were designed to act independently of the will of the person to whom they were attached, prehensile as the tail of a monkey, waving and flagellating about in a manner most unseemly, as if a ragged breeze were directing them to chaos. The only problem being that they were fully inside of a building, [i]where there was no breeze[/i]. The eyes of The Great Bazhooli widened and his head turned to the side, contemplating the hasty use of the door they had just used to enter the establishment of the now thoroughly offputting Nigel Ownerand, when the most blessed of mercies snapped him out of the frightening discomfort of the toadlike man and his monstrous facial accessories. It was Constantin. He was complaining. Vlad was overjoyed to hear the sounds of his dissatisfaction. 

	[color=B22222]"...sveet merciful heavens, thank you..."[/color] he mumbled, free of the spell of horror placed upon his senses. Now a little more himself, Vladimir turned to his fellow of the Circus, [color=B22222]"For certain, Constantin. You vorry too much, da? Come, ve take food, ve go. Might be last time for decent meal before getting to the Green of Gretna. If ve are needed - [i]needed[/i]? Ve need to be at best. Not veak or vobbly. Strong! Fal'shbort! Steady of arm! Vone does not starve horse before big journey. Vorry not, young Firevalker. Eat fast, ride fast, not choke on rations from horseback vhile tearing down road. Bad vay to have adventure. Come! ...but vith panache."[/color] Vlad sauntered to the area at the bar indicated by the proprietor, next to the [i]completely not nuts[/i] Ludwig. 

	Calling through the kitchen door (be it open or not), [color=B22222]"And maybe something sveet for road?"[/color] He nodded once thoughtfully, [color=B22222]"Da. Something sveet for road."[/color]