story time lolz
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General Grigori's army moved suddenly to the western front of the mighty Russian nation to counter the growing German threat. When reports rolled into Moscow about a sudden German attack on the Russian western frontier, supported by Hittites further south, suddenly the talking heads in the capitol changed their priorities. The Sumerian front was left to one crack Russian army and the western front was given the full attention of the Russian forces.
Now the Russian armies had been reunited with the beloved bear cavalry, and were prepared to go into the breach against the highly trained German forces. Rumors abound that the Germans were fielding heavily armed soldiers called Teutons that could take out entire squads single-handedly. The Russian lines were anxious. More importantly they were thirsty.
Allow me to remind the reader that in these times the only liquor in all of Europe that had become a commodity abroad was Germany's prized beer. The Russians lapped it up quickly, eager to buy it by the barrelful from their aqueous neighbors. It became a staple throughout the nation and was hailed by the Russians as a "miracle fluid." The war, however, changed that - beer was no longer available and the art of distilling barley was never discovered by Russiankind (it being an arcane bronze practice).
This led to a sudden influx of sciences as Russians scrambled like mad to unlock the secrets and sate their thirst. Over the many years few successes were made but some came close. Never was a true liquor made however.
But in the war this kept the Russians at a disadvantage. Being sober and clear-minded, the Russians didn't have the inherent ferocity that drunkenness creates for the aggressive pushes, and this sobriety was not at all conducive to the idea of a Russian
horde which had been cultivated ever since Petrov IV died. Now Grigori stood with the chill of Russian winter all around him, also wishing for a liquid to open his veins a touch. The personal wealth he amassed looting Sumerian villages he had now put forth towards creating a distillery to create Russia's first liquor, but it was slow going.
Suddenly a Commissar came up to his side with a large flat bottle, something scribbled on the side in black chalk reading "водочка" in large cyrillic print. Vodka. "The distiller Mendeleev says for you to drink it," said the Commissar.
Grigori ripped out the cork from the bottle and peered inside. Sure enough the liquid was clear, and there was indeed liquid inside. Grigori took a heavy swill from the bottle and the sensation created by the consumption of the drink reminded him greatly of being slammed in the head with a wooden mallet (a throwback to the days of Phi Betta Киев
. Simultaneously he was suddenly thinking in a lucid, drunk sense, and his very veins seemed to catch on fire.
"Zis is exactly vat ve need," said Grigori to the Commissar, feeling empowered, "Tell ze distiller to make more, much more, enouv vor an entire army. I vill fund everyzing vor zis distillery."
The Commissar dashed off and the cold winter air no longer had any effect on General Grigori. He undid the latch on his coat and, letting forth a hearty cry, led his men in a charge on the German position.
