[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=B22222]Vladimir Alexandrov[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/3068ada6-2525-4e47-b1a8-14d98dfb6177.jpg[/img][h3][color=firebrick][b][i]"[u]The Great Bazhooli[/u]"[/i][/b][/color][/h3][/center][hr][hr][center][color=B22222][b]Location:[/b][/color] Bristol Ship 
[color=B22222][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Fal'shbort[/i] (Passive), [i]Tretiy Glaz[/i] (Passive), English [/center][hr]

	The mental shrug performed by The Great Bazhooli was thankfully left without external mirror. Ludwig knew much about the world around him. Very much. It made Vladimir wonder whether he had insight to some mythic storehouse of knowledge through his Germanic Training that others were simply unable to access. He spent the next few seconds theorizing that it might by that very access that made him ...like he was. Too much knowledge, too fast for a mind to keep up with and not sound like a madman. It made sense. For all he knew though, others of his skill set were more socially acclimated and he was the exception. Unlike Ludwig, Vlad did not have this seemingly all-encompassing knowledge at his fingertips. His guess was as good any anyone's, who did not have previous experience with these people. 

	Vladimir did note that, at least concerning his own people, his knowledge seemed purely academic. The description of the hierarchy, while technically correct, lacked much of the insular feel of life and lines of respect given in the Circus. And of course, he was talking about Vladimir's father. Perhaps no disrespect was intended. Ultimately, it didn't matter. Vlad was the very epitome of the Russian Circus, as was the Baron, the Ringmaster, and the fine and noble performers and laborers therefrom. No mindless soldiers following orders, they were as close to family as one might be, that were not blood. Books often had trouble describing cultural nuances such as that. Nevertheless, The Great Bazhooli did have to tip his hat to the extent of the man's education in the ways of others; he obviously knew as much as, if not more, than any other outsider could about the Circus. 

	But again, all academic. Time and association would give him greater understanding. Maybe even he would learn something about the culture of the German fellow's people. The only ones he knew were Ludwig and Adam, and the little boy barely even knew what he was. Vladimir finished off his fried potatoes and battered fish, the ubiquitous dish that he had heard was so common among English folk, and took a look around. Sailors tended sails and secured the deck as the three of them stood among it all, taking in the experience. He looked to Constantin, feeling that he had not shown proper gratitude for his assistance as of yet. While not in open water just yet, they had made it to a boat. He could not have done it by himself this quickly, nor provisioned them all without help. 

	 [color=B22222]"[i]Spasibo[/i], Constantin. Thanking you for coming vith us, and thanking you for the helps, da? Have given gratitudes to Ludvig. Vant you to know too, appreciations. Vhen landing, ve move as vone. See to Grand Duchess, take up qvest. Save lady. Fight, vin, live! Great Bazhooli and Constantin Firevalker, [i]exploding[/i] onto countries of Britain Island - and beyond! Righting wrongs, fighting Soulless, spreading vord of Circus, and her mighty varrior-performers! HA! Stories vill be told of exploit; strange Russians from beyond sea and over steppe, into mountain and ancestral home! To die for such undertaking is honor, to live and return again is glory. Now, all ve can do is vait."[/color] Vladimir removed his hat from his noble head and bowed to his countryman, then began to saunter to the cabin reserved for the three of them. As he moved, he concluded, [color=B22222]"For now, ve rest. Resting and practice!"[/color]  

[hr][hr][center][h1][color=c0c0c0][i][b]Sister Mary Ignatia Hale[/b][/i][/color][/h1][/center]
[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/dd4e4d8d-94e8-4f69-a8f6-1063154d3810.jpg[/img]
[sub][color=silver]“Blessed be the Lord, my strength, who teaches my hands to war and my fingers to fight.” -Psalm 144:1[/color][/sub]
[hr][color=c0c0c0][b]Location:[/b][/color] Carlisle (F7) 
[color=c0c0c0][b]Skills:[/b][/color] [i]Audist[/i], Athletics [/center][hr][hr]

	Yes, Carlisle was under attack. Not the doings of a single, desperate Ryne, but what looked to be a coordinated attack of several of these abominations. What was more, they appeared to have arrived in advance of Mary and Virginia. The possibility crossed Mary's mind that Virginia's idea might very well be accurate, and this was a setup. If this was indeed a trap, the fiery-haired Apostolic was intended to punch through it and break the spring which would have ensnared them within its teeth. Though her face remained cold and serene, Mary's eyes burned with righteousness and fury. 

	[color=c0c0c0]"[i]Destroy that which is evil, so that which is good may flourish.[/i]"[/color] Whether or not something good meant to flourish in Carlisle was not her immediate concern. The first half of the quote was, which she intended to take very seriously. The quick taps of her riding boots upon the city streets was the last warning that the Ryne had before Mary was upon it, lunging the pike end of her Swiss halberd toward the throat of the creature. Murder was a cardinal sin in the eyes of the Lord, though it could only be committed upon the number of those possessing souls. This thing was not among that number. Unfortunately, it did possess reflexes as it did in life, allowing for a defined evasion and robbing Mary of a quick kill. 

	The Ryne slipped behind the business end of the halberd, coming at Mary with bared teeth. It was a last moment movement that Mary countered, fluidly sidestepping and bringing up the shaft of her weapon to deflect the coming blow. Though denied its own kill, Soulless hands caught the halberd's haft and pressed forward, driving Mary toward the wall of the building behind her. It was strong. But so was Mary. Underneath the loose clothing and religious vestments that commonly made up Sister Mary's wardrobe, she was a brutally conditioned woman, capable of bringing forth grace and physicality which was mortally surprising to those who would cause harm. 

	Using the inertia of her movement to her advantage, Mary kicked a foot behind her, landing firmly onto the wall. Simultaneously, she brought her entire upper body into the single task of thrusting her weapon up and forward, horizontally. The resulting impact smashed into the jaw of the very shocked Ryne, shattering its mandible and laying it out flat upon the cobblestones below. Mary planted a boot upon the chest of her fallen adversary and, with utilitarian precision, swiped the halberd across in a single arc, removing the top half of its head from the eyes and up. 

	Mary swung her blessed weapon above her head in a single, powerful loop; the purpose being to remove the Ryne's blood from the blade in a direction away from Virginia. Her eyes moved to pick another target even as her voice, determined and cold, clearly answered her friend's declaration from just earlier: 

	[color=c0c0c0]"Two."[/color]