Warhammer: Inquisitor journey

Tearing myself away from the computer, I threw a glance at the creative… state surrounding my workplace (and the place of most of my life, to be honest). It is necessary to get out, I sighed. A couple of friends, though more precisely, institute friends, threatened to dilute my loneliness with their tiresome personas. In some ways their personas were pleasant, but in the realm of recent perturbations in the World, contact with people has come to naught, which I rather liked.

Although, I thought, while I was collecting empty cigarette packages and fast food wrappers in trash bags, I might turn into a total hacky that way. I mean, it's not hard to get stress disorder from being on old Earth, I hummed. It's rather normal for a sane person. But to make it worse with self-isolation is clearly not the way to go, we are social animals, and this self-isolation leads to a lot of problems.

And in general, it is funny that after graduating with honors from the Faculty of Ethnology of Moscow State University, I, like a number of my fellow historians, was unemployed. Well, not really: there were government organizations, offering to become a history teacher in the village, or become a «give-and-take» at the university. Let's just say that the number of historians in the country turned out to be excessive, and their activities were not particularly needed. Teacher – it's good, but at the end of days, I decided, and in a couple of years graduated from «college», which parents persistently (and, historically-justly) called SPTU, psychology.

And began working as a correspondent and author of articles online publications. That's not at all what I expected, crossing the threshold of the best university in the country. However, my friends who threatened to visit me today are even more distant from our original professions. Entrepreneur and police officer – in this capacity, society accepted specialists in ethnology and the ancient world.

Finally, the hard work of bringing creative disorder into ordinary disorder was complete. And ironic thoughts about being and a place in it, though could go on forever, but were ruthlessly cut short: it was necessary at least to think of some food, but in the process of speculation about «personalities in the context of the historical period,» what I would have thought – food would not be exactly.

And by five o'clock the door, as usual, was knocked on. The bell was ignored by my guests as an unworthy device. And since they were decent people, they only knocked with their feet when they came to visit.

The high parties exchanged greetings and went into the kitchen. Where Andrei, my co-faculty member, extracted a liter bottle of the original design from an enticingly tinkling bag. In addition to the shape and the red-brown contents, the bottle was distinguished by its label-the name «Amasec», the two-headed eagle in the German style, the skulls and other decorations were directly related to his hobby and business.

My fellow student was almost from birth a devoted fan of the Warhammer universe. To be honest, I was relatively indifferent to it, but I couldn't help acknowledging its impact on the culture. And the popularity of such mythology in society today was quite interesting as an ethnologist.

In addition, Andrew had a small, or rather large, production studio, where he cast figures for the game. They were called differently, looked much more aesthetically pleasing and accurate (I checked in my time) than the figures from the official manufacturer. And most importantly – were worth four times cheaper than the «native», were made as a complete and disassembled … In general, a friend was not poor, and in some ways it was possible to envy him – found a way to play in their favorite toy, and even earn on it decent money.

- It's a real amasek! – Andrei shook the bottle.

- Won't your counterfeit kill us? – Oleg, the historian of antiquity and policeman at the same time, raised his eyebrow skeptically. – By the way, if I remember correctly, - he put on a smirking face, - in your «va-ah-ah» amasek is just a drink. Any kind, any quality.

- It's an excellent liquor,» Andrew sulked. – And I'm not the homeless guy from your books, so I can't bring you any bad stuff.

- You drink it first, and in an hour we'll see the consequences, and maybe we'll try it, - the law enforcement officer has passed a verdict. – Igor, don't drink yet, - he turned to me, - you'll become a little goat. Although you're already a real jerk, - the policeman stretched out.

- Are you going to remind me of this article for a long time? – I snapped at him.

- Forever, - Oleg said firmly.

- And what am I wrong? – I was getting really excited. – The joint responsibility of power groups leads to the creation of class-caste…

- Right, - Oleg nodded at me. – Only your rightness nobody needs, and in the end …

And then our dialogue was interrupted by the music from Andrei's cell phone. With a smug expression on his face, he waved his hands in time with the song that came from the speakers: «Circle bail smeared like soot, I take someone's hand, and feel his elbow. Silently listened to the end, after which Andrew gave out:

- In short, class enemies, knock it off. Actually, both of you are parasites on me, if you look at it objectively,» he pouted.

- Okay, we're really not going to swear," I smiled, and the policeman nodded. - But you really should try it first, you exploited minority.

Andrew took a sip of drink from the exclusive bottle and winked at our skeptically worried faces. However, we extracted less exotic drink and the conversation between old friends with a bite to eat turned into a traditional course. A couple of hours later we tried amasek - Andryukha did not die, even recovered his face, which calmed my and Oleg's anxiety about the future.

We sat and talked about everyday life, work, women and other interesting things. And, at a certain point, we came to a conversation about politics. Because of Andrew's re-launched "Chained Together," politics was not current or even historical. We engaged in a discussion of futurology, or to be more specific, the political structure of the object of one of our enthusiasm.

- Let's say," said Oleg importantly. - The questions of engineering and technology, we discard, in this hammer is magic and other stuff. But, the question of organizing worlds across the galaxy in an ongoing war cannot be different.

- It can," I disagreed. - They have everything tied to religion, and in general, it makes no sense.

- Igor, you're just not aware of it, - Andrei expertly concluded. - There's a lot of religion in Warhammer, but it's not the fundamental structure of the state. It's more like nationalism, or rather vidism, - he concluded.

- Maybe I'm not aware of it," I admitted peacefully. - And nationalism, or rather vidism, in a perpetual war is necessary, as far as I understand the conditions described.

- "In the distant world of the future there is no room for logic - there is only war!" - Oleg squeaked in a thin voice, causing a friendly laughter.

And the meeting, which is a binge, flowed on canonical and traditional rails. Ladies, women and girls, work, "all jerks!", "Gentlemen, shouldn't we send a messenger? - Let's all go together!" was attached. The culmination of the evening was watching a cop and a businessman stretched out on my bed. And I was sitting in my chair, a little "helicoptered," and the thought before I went to bed was just blatantly traditional: "Why did I get so drunk?!"