Inquisitor

That was it, I was genuinely furious. No, she was a demon, and some of her stories disgusted me, even made me want to vomit, but damn it, she was MY demon! And I'm going to break that bastard who broke mine myself!

I could think of nothing better to do than to fight the murderer, honestly, for I was a bit good at it. But the bastard was no stranger to the world, so after muttering "praeter unum!", the bastard pointed the ugly book at me, and the book shot out the chains.

Honestly, I didn't even have time to be frightened, although, intellectually, I should have been. However, the thin chains just... went through me, like a ghost. I was a little amazed at this fact, but I was genuinely pleased with the frustrated face of the creep and punched him in the face.

With a rather paradoxical result - the hand was in the belly and sternum, causing no damage and meeting no obstacles. What the hell was that, I couldn't even kick the bastard in the face? While I was getting upset, though, the bastard rolled his eyes, arched up, and yelled in a completely unbearable way, scratching the place of my "penetration" with his crooked fingers. "Yeah, I don't like it!" - I thought gloatingly, feeling no discomfort at all from such an unnatural "entry into the man. And I decided to add more, taking a step "inside" this type.

The squealing changed to a gasping cough, which... became my gasping cough! And the body began to be felt, and, judging by the chain book, it was clearly not mine! And a metallic, salty moan melted around me, and the wind blew "scraps of light. I stole a body from that jerk, didn't I? Was he a ghost? In sweatpants and with an erection? It's getting delusional, I thought, but it's interesting. I was a little sorry for Laginia, but judging by the agonizing moan, her killer got the full measure of it.

I decided that I should probably get out of here, as I moved toward the black and purple oval. I spit mentally at the scattered remains of the bastard and stepped into the oval.

And I faced the muzzle, the size of which, after the passage, seemed to me like an artillery piece. A second later, however, I was able to appreciate the true caliber-not a small one, but a couple of centimeters, not twenty, as I had perceived in the first moments.

The barrel was attached to the gun, but the gun was probably held by the spaceman, whom Andryukha called "marinades. The humanoid was about two-twenty tall, and "humanoid" at that: the proportions of the body were unusual and impossible for a human - a grotesquely overdeveloped torso, which was obvious even in the armor. By the way, in passing I noted that this mutant's "shoulder pads" were not made so that he "could not surrender by crushing his head if both arms were raised. The point is that the shoulders were separated by more than a meter, so when I raised my arms these really fierce shoulder pads just blocked the view, rather than coming together.

The face of the mutant aiming at me was harsh without the helmet-gray, in fact, gray hair, an army haircut, a tenacious look in his deep-set eyes. The armor itself was bright blue, with a white letter Ω visible on the shoulder pad of the arm pointing at me. The comments I had seen about the bearers of this "toilet lid" were not encouraging, but we'll see, I decided, turning my gaze from the huge torso covered with all kinds of skulls and trinkets to the eyes of this guy.

- Creaturae sunt ab chao mortuis? - he asked me a question, and I nodded slightly.

Latin, very "kitchen", distorted, but contextually understandable, I mentally exhaled. And the "creatures" or beasts of chaos are indeed dead, as is the creature that killed her. Meanwhile the interlocutor took out from the pouch (which generously covered his belt and thighs) some figurine with a skull and handed it to me.

- Accipit: opus verificationem," he said, and I took the thing in my hand.

The verification is a verification, which I passed - in a few seconds the expression on my interlocutor's face changed from "I'll destroy you to hell", to "if I'm not lazy I'll burn the world with fire", the arrow moved to some cunning hitch, and my interlocutor gave out:

- Xenotech reus est qui de adventu et orci illi? - he gave out.

So, apparently this figurine of apparently "non-human design" is meant, and whether it is to blame for the "journey" of certain orcs, hmm, clearly not. And anyway, I'll try to have a conversation, I decided.

- No. Et Xenoartefact is iustus ostium," I uttered, to which the interlocutor grimaced, evidently trying to understand my words, but nodded.

- Veniam in me, Inquisitor," the man said, while I admired the slightly blushing mutant. - Nescio bene princeps Gothici. Utinam loquor humilis Gothici? - To which I nodded cheerfully.

I don't know what the spaceman means by "low Gothic," but our communication with his "kitchen" and my extremely vocabulary-limited Latin is really delusional. And I was right - "low Gothic" turned out to be English, obviously simplified and supplemented, but much more understandable to me. Moreover, the blue one did not even flinch at my misunderstanding and interrogation of the terms, as well as at my clarifying questions. Which, taking into account a lot of borrowings from other languages, which appeared in the first sentences of the conversation, is quite understandable. Obviously, "low Gothic" is a kind of surzhik, well, given the many languages and the Imperium in the whole galaxy - a lot of "incomprehensible" to each other words is natural.

To begin with, this guy wondered, "Is it possible to break this xenotech, for the glory of the Emperor, of course?" I took the question seriously, and began to examine the "plant-like" columns and the smooth oval on the floor. There was no "rays" or "wind" coming from it, so I repeated in English that it was just a portal, a gateway to chaos, not negative in itself. It might be worth exploring, because the same demons could be crushed, or something else the emperor could do. My speech was followed by a thoughtful look at my chest and an understanding nod. And I, having "corrected" the letter "I" with a skull, saw a skull cross with three crossbars and wings behind the skull.

After that, I tried to tell him that I needed to "think," to take a little break after being in Warp. He went off on a long tirade, saying that he regretted that the solution to his mission was not found here, and asked to be allowed to return to it. When I asked him for help (a natural and logical question), he smiled, said he'd be "happy to", and threatened to be on the phone with some sort of auspices. And, taking a helmet with a red skull and a banner leaning against the wall, he marched out of the room. Shaking it with his footsteps.

Yes, the delirium is getting stronger, I concluded. However, I have to figure out what and how, because even if everything around me is crazy, but I damn well seem to live in it. Luckily, in the corner of the circular hall there was a relatively small rectangular backpack. Apparently, the inquisitor's belongings, which I am. And hopefully some useful information I could glean from it, I hoped, as I appropriated and examined the property.