[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=B22222]Vladimir Alexandrov[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/8c1433c6-083d-4a24-bdfa-033741139aa8.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][hr][center][color=B22222][b]Location:[/b][/color] Gretna Green, Church
[color=B22222][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Fal'shbort[/i] (Passive), [i]Tretiy Glaz[/i] (Passive), English, [b]Gologramma[/b] [/center][hr]

	The art of the [i]Gologramma[/i] was an exercise in both subtlety and boldness, its mysteries many and proper application a thing of intense coordination. One simply does not summon a quasi-astral simulacrum of one's self and let it run about all willy-nilly, if you didn't know. It had no animation of its own, merely a tool of the will of its summoner. This is why those adept in the use of a [i]Gologramma[/i] often utilize them in their Circus acts; practice there made for ease of use in a mortal struggle. Vladimir was better than most with his Gologramma, experience being a factor. One must be vigilant when dealing with things that draw upon astral energies, however. Unexpected results may happen. It is rare, but conflicting energies can lead to interesting things. 

	One could see the beginnings of Vladimir's casting manifest. His preferred method had the image stepping away from himself like a mirror image, holding the same quiet facial expression and dark eyes, so as to provide an initial sense of confusion among his enemies. But here is where it went awry:

	The expression of his will, created by the manipulation of personal and astral forces, began to split from him in the usual manner of his summoning. Only, it seemed more solid, more part of him, and thusly more difficult to detach. Perhaps he should have just summoned it beside him like most people did it, but [i]no[/i], Vlad was a showman - [i]THE[/i] Showman - and he'd be damned if he was going to perform a flashy maneuver half-assed. The problem was compounded by the fact that, when the astral form began to remove itself from him, Vladimir could have sworn that a full change in scenery had occurred. Like the [i]Gologramma[/i], or energies therein, were obscuring something behind the mask of perceivable reality, and he had somehow gotten a glimpse of a hidden but everpresent world, in which he was fully and utterly alone. 

	Vladimir had but a moment to observe this before his quasi-astral form slammed back into him with enough physical force to slap him off of his feet, across the polished flooring, and into the wall. In the time it took him to pick himself back up from the ground, the foul thing had been dispatched, a brilliant combination of an unholy beatdown and ritual supplication of their Creator; the latter an example of steadfast Russian piety and the former an array of the European women's fiery, martial passions. He bobbed his head with a realization that yes, that was probably how he wanted to die, as well. 

	The delicate flower of Elizaveta's voice rang out, asking for water following her ordeal. Of course Vladimir would be happy to get it, but someone beat him to the punch, so to speak. Instead, he chose to straighten himself up as best he could and begin the heavy congratulatory portion of the post-battle. [color=B22222]"Bravo, ladies! [b]поздравляю тебя[/b], da - Congratulating to you all! [i]Bravissimo![/i] Vith the thanking, and the job vell done-ing!"[/color] he said, quickly sheathing his showcard knives and clapping loudly. He advanced to the altar, his adulation continuing until he had reached the altar and gathered back his knives, hurled in combat against their dark and tendrilly foe. [color=B22222]"But speak not the silliness of Master Zimmer, vith being the monster. No! Power of Grand Duchess's [i]Ostanavlivat'sya[/i] is strong. Is very strong. Ve saw it cleanse and free poor Ludvig."[/color] He turned from the altar with a flourish. [color=B22222]"But excuse! Must get hat."[/color] It was true, he did like that hat.

	Stepping down, he looked to Constantin and Elizaveta, nodding with a quizzical expression as if to ask if everything was alright with them. The Great Bazhooli had a heart full of warmth and many knives, both of which he might share for several occasions.