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

	The coming wisp of dark cloud took Vladimir completely by surprise. Such was [i]not[/i] one of the things that he was expecting to find, apparently, as he had committed a high portion of his concentration toward his more travel-based skillset. Sadly, before any of that could come to fruition, the unimaginable happened. Instinct had Vladimir placing control of his horse with his heels and knees, settling the rearing yet noble beast as best he could. His hands were kept quite occupied, quickdrawing two of his larger knives underhand grips. Vladimir's teeth were bared and he let out a wordless roar of challenge, restrained only by the clenching of his teeth as he scanned his surroundings for potential threats. This "ill wind" could just be the vanguard of a fresh, new brand of Hell, and no one would catch The Great Bazhooli unawares - not this close to their destination. 

	It was at this point that Vlad noticed the fallen Ludwig. [color=B22222]"AH!"[/color] he cried aloud, his hands rising to either side of his head though they still carried blades, framing his face with sharpened steel. [color=B22222]"For vhy? For vhy does the fortunes take such beatings to our qvest? Vhy does silly German man, our [i]most noble[/i] and [i]loyal[/i] of allies, have to go on this adventure before ve?"[/color] Vlad shook his head vigorously. [color=B22222]"NO! This I cannot accept!"[/color] 

	The Great Bazhooli kicked one of his feet from its stirrup ad sifted his weight to one side, rolling off the horse with gusto and landing promptly. The second his feet touched the earth beneath him, he walked with purposeful stride to the prostrated and prone form of Master Ludwig Zimmer. [color=B22222]"I [i]refuse[/i] accepting of this!"[/color] He sheathed his knives in one gallant flourish and dashed to he knees, sliding the remaining foot to the crumpled Ludwig. Vladimir flexed his hands and cracked his knuckles, followed by his neck, followed by his shoulders, each in rapid succession of each other. The man looked like he meant business. [color=B22222]"I vill give you [i]such the Krasnoye-ing[/i], Master Zimmer..."[/color] he started, laying his hands roughly upon the man. His face was anger, frustration, and grim determination beyond the capacity of less dramatic men to summon. 

	Then it all fell away from his face. Looking quite surprised, even a little embarrassed, Vladimir quickly retracted his hands. [color=B22222]"Ах, дерьмо."[/color][sub]1[/sub] He gave a very matter-of-factly nod, [color=B22222]"Da, is dead. Okays! Town is [i]that vay[/i]."[/color] He hoisted the man onto the flank of his horse, Tolstoy(!) and remounted, glad that they were traveling lightly. [color=B22222]"Ve go!"[/color] The best arrangements were to be made in town one mile off, and the mission was supposed to be in there anyway. 

[hider=Translations]
1	=	"Ah, shit."
[/hider]