Chapter 149 Black Orcs Lemons and Gifts

"Do you think they will find that the Black Temple was formerly a vegetable field full of green skin?" Morse observed the transparent, fully sealed ecological petri dish - or rather, a bottle mouth that was roughly squeezed shut by psychic energy. , a transparent glass bottle with runes to ensure sound insulation and heat insulation.

In this small space that is completely enclosed except for natural light, even the orcs can't get up. After three days of banging on the wall of the glass bottle, they began to fight in a circle depressedly, trying to grab the delicious skogo from their companions' mouths.

"Definitely. Many engineers know that the location on the drawing is the shipboard ecological field." Perturabo took the newly arrived Legion documents and sat down in the office Dorn lent him, and glanced at the glass bottles on the table. , "Is this potted plant okay?"

"You're still very energetic and can continue to take care of yourself." Morse replied and sat down on the sofa on the side. A carved walrus tusk fell out of the air, and Morse stretched out his hands to catch it and hold it in his arms. This time he used abstract hunting in the ice field as a pattern. He inlaid miniature colored chips on the outer wall of the walrus ivory to improve the monotonous colors.

Perturabo began reviewing the papers. Recently, he has invested so much energy in the ineffective sterilization work of Rogal Dorn's Phalanx that the Iron Warriors Legion's own regular affairs have been neglected to a certain extent. When he realized this, he immediately corrected himself and buried himself in the pile of paper marked with black and yellow stripes.

"With the Imperial Fists' style, the predecessor of the temple will not make them doubt the temple itself." Perturabo said, "The practicality of this black temple has been proven."

“Just like you’re in Olympia, the Locos Theater was a former wet market full of fish, beets, honey and straw hats.”

As Morse spoke, he applied the diluted, flowable bright red pigment along the tip of the pen into the engraved details. It quickly flowed and extended in the engraved lines, strengthening the concave and convex three-dimensional surfaces through the bleeding lines.

As Morse waited for the paint to dry, Perturabo continued: "There is nothing wrong symbolically with the Black Temple, which was founded on alien bones and death."

"Anyway, considering that this was once a green-skinned mushroom field, I still find this waste recycling interesting." Morse commented, "I can almost imagine that one day other legions and the Imperial Fists will interact with each other. fight, and poke fun at the Templars' behavior with the origins of the Temple on the Phalanx."

"How to make fun of it?" Perturabo skillfully used the multi-tasking ability of the Primarch and put some of his attention into thinking about jokes against the Imperial Fists, "Say they are overly focused on pragmatism?"

"You are too serious." Morse picked up a dry brush and strengthened the texture of the carving. "If it were me, I would say that they are indeed fanatics who can make the orcs feel ashamed."

"Black orcs?" Perturabo said coldly.

"Wow," Morse laughed, "Watch out for the Templar getting angry."

"I would not call a son of Rogal Dorn that in front of outsiders," Perturabo said seriously, discussing an unserious topic. "It would be beneath his honor."

"I know. But this is actually quite appropriate. The sleeveless robe Sigismund is wearing is black. He only needs a black armor to fully meet the literal description of this term."

Perturabo lowered his head, letting the shadows on his face hide the raised corners of his mouth. "Well," he said, "it's a pity Roger Dorn loves lemon yellow paint."

"He doesn't even know what a lemon is," Morse pointed out. "Have you ever had Invite's lemonade?"

"You drank, what happened?"

Morse snorted, "Pure industrial garbage, a completely nutritious and light-flavor concoction, a nightmare taste that only anyone who has never drunk lemonade can imagine - do you want him to come in? There is a giant knocking on the door. ”

"Good morning, Dorne," Perturabo said.

"Don't lemonade taste like that?" Dorn pushed the door open because Perturabo hadn't locked the door and he had knocked on it. "When I have time, I will have the laboratory research a better formula."

He arrives at the door as the two talk about lemon paint.

After briefly confirming that he indeed liked lemonade, and that Invite's lemonade was indeed an industrial synthetic product, Roger Dorn calmly accepted the two people's evaluations, and praised them for knowing the true self and Invite so well. Feeling particularly relaxed.

"I'm glad that I didn't criticize you along with Morse." Perturabo said, "When it comes to lemons, we have conquered all the way, and indeed we have not seen any planet that retains lemon plants."

"He found more fragments of Shakespeare than lemons."

Morse created a magnifying glass in the air to allow for more detailed painting of the tiny carvings. Rather than letting the eyes shine directly, he feels that this relatively retro approach can better express the unique nobility of handicraft inheritors in the technological age.

"A whole second act of Hamlet, and eighteen continuations written by people themselves, such as Hamlet becoming the king of the Wild Hunt and wielding a sword to slay the demons and defeat the Franks."

"That ending was obviously made up by the locals themselves," Perturabo said. "It's very different from the previous work. I think Hamlet and Laertes together..."

"Stop, my Iron Lord." Morse quickly stopped. "Laertes was male in the original version."

"Huh?" Dawn asked.

"Nothing." Perturabo said, "I made a mistake about something insignificant. And if you really want lemons, you can entrust the Mechanicus to restore the genes of lemons. I believe they have preserved the relevant gene fragments."

"What is this, Perturabo? Since entrusting the Mechanicus to restore kiwis and receiving a box of melons labeled kiwis, you decided to test the ability of the Mechanicus again?"

"Make sure that the ability of those who contribute technology to the Emperor can meet the needs of the revival of the Empire."

"Okay, I will remember this." Rogal Dorn said, "I thank you for your selfless dedication to the removal of green orcs on the Phalanx."

"I understand, brother." Perturabo said, following Dorn's jumping thoughts-or maybe Dorn came here just to say this, and felt that any transitional guiding language between lemons and thanks was too redundant. "No need to thank me, we work together under the Skyhawk."

"If you think such thanks are equal to what you have done for me, then I will not say more." Rogal Dorn blinked steadily and regularly, "Also, Perturabo, I thank your offspring for my pursuit..."

"Okay, Dorn." Perturabo put down the data pen used to process documents, opened the drawer, and took out a square iron box. "Anything else?"

Dorn closed his mouth and opened it again, "I also want to thank your engineers for their work on Inwit and Phalanx..."

"And?"

"Thank you for setting an exemplary example in the healthy development of brotherly relations, which provides me with a goal to learn from." Rogal Dorn finally finished a whole sentence.

"You'd better not tell other brothers that you learned from me." Perturabo whispered, throwing the iron box to Rogal Dorn, who reached out and grabbed it in the air. "The Phalanx and Inwit have been repaired, and the Iron Warriors are preparing to re-enter the Great Crusade. Open it and take a look, this is my parting gift to you."