[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 (Bridge) -> Ludwig's Path
[color=B22222][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Fal'shbort[/i] (Passive), [i]Tretiy Glaz[/i] (Passive), English [/center][hr]

	It can be said that the stamina of a Brivaldi horse knows no equal. Whether it was true or not, there was no denying the power, speed, and surefootedness of the majestic beast that was bearing the massively ostentatious yet legendary performer who inherited the title of this generation's Great Bazhooli. [i]The[/i] Great Bazhooli. Often imitated, never duplicated. Accept no substitutes. Either the horse [i]or[/i] the impalement artist. But I digress - The great horse, Tolstoy(!), gave a powerful snort as he set hooves past the bridge, somehow understanding its master's wishes for speed and anxious to open itself up to its potential. Tricks aside, this was a horse that could run in such a fashion that it seemed not to stride upon the ground, more than plant its hooves and shove the earth behind it. 

	Thinking in concert with his horse, Vladimir reined the beast in the precise directions provided by their guide and ally, Ludwig Zimmer, and let it unleash its thunderous fury upon the unsuspecting countryside of southwestern Scotland. [color=B22222]"Da! I am agreeing vith Firevalker, Master Zimmer. Take vhat time you can in saddlepacks. Ve must make vith the certainties that vhen ve meet beast again..."[/color] His voice took on a dangerous edge as he drifted into a grimmer aspect of his personality, eyes narrowing and gaining a bright intensity in the celtic sunlight, [color=B22222]"...it vill not escape us. No vone attacks our Veta. [i]No vone[/i]."[/color] Vladimir was generally a man of dramatic action, be it open and boisterous or dark and intensity, coupled with stretches of expectant brooding. But this instance had both he and his horse pummeling the unfamiliar ground in the relentless journey northward, resting his psyche somewhere [i]between[/i] boisterous and intense. [color=B22222]"Just tell vhen to turn!"[/color]