[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=B22222]Vladimir Alexandrov[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/6ae86d34-76ab-48bf-a41f-e16258a72749.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][hr][center][color=B22222][b]Location:[/b][/color] Road to Gretna Green From Port Annan (Ludwig's Path)
[color=B22222][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Fal'shbort[/i] (Passive), [i]Tretiy Glaz[/i] (Passive), English [/center][hr]

	Ludwig was ever the motivating factor for Vladimir to want to make intense physical connection between his face and the palm of his hand. The mad German had been crucial in the Circus's egress from London, moreover he was responsible for the positive results of the chance meeting with La Canela in the ocean. This was good. Highly beneficial. Probably the single most significant factor that put them on a path to the success of their venture. Without him, Vladimir would most likely be riding ahead of his beloved Circus with a small advance scouting group of similarly Trained horsemen and warriors, far ahead of the main body but still way tor far behind to be of any help to the Grand Duchess, the Lady Crypt, or Scary Catholic Girl. For this, Ludwig had Vladimir's gratitude.

	The utter facepalming moment came when, despite being fully on point with everything else (be it mixed hopelessly with more than a touch of randomness and offputting color), he had apparently forgotten what he was supposed to be researching for them. Just in case it made another appearance, of course. Vladimir gave him a massive benefit of the doubt, being as he was accessing both his knowledge of the hidden paths that he had apparently been versed in for quite some time, [i]plus[/i] engaging in research while taking on the form of a tiny fairy-man and riding in a saddlebag with a ferret. One that was, apparently, not his brother. Perhaps he was stretched. 

	Fine. Permit this slip without much in the way of comment. He needs to stay as loose as possible to get this job done, and Vlad didn't need to "act the heavy" if they were to remain spirited for the fight to come. It was always a fight to come. So as his horse thundered up and down the secret paths of southwestern Scotland, The Great Bazhooli merely nodded and smiled. Constantin had readdressed the problem. He did add, calling back behind him as they traveled, [color=B22222]"Da! Great silencing in fog around flying rubbery monster, for too! Could not hear music of our people!"[/color]