Orks were simply impossible to reason with!
That was the only thought in Guilliman's mind. At last, he coldly ordered Ongron, "If you Orks refuse to heed my warning, then don't blame Macragge's weapons for opening fire on you!"
The communication was unilaterally terminated. Ongron stood stunned for a moment, then pulled his lips into a cruel, cunning smile all too familiar to the Imperium's forces.
"Fine, fine, fine... So that's how you want to play it, you blue tin can? You don't want me to go, but I'm going no matter what!"
With a sweep of Ongron's massive hand, every Ork turned to look at him. "Boyz, stop picking mushrooms! We've got a new job now! Refit all our ships and paint them purple! A fun infiltration mission is waiting for us!"
"We'll listen to you, Boss Ongron." The Orks raised their hands and cheered, stuffing the mushrooms in their hands and baskets straight into their mouths, wolfing them down in a few bites before following Ongron back to their camp.
The last remaining World Eaters in the Milky Way faced the Orks led by Ongron from across a river. The small village, built from wood and stone bricks, belonged to the World Eaters, who carried farming tools they had forged themselves as they loosened soil and plowed fields.
On the other side stood the Orks' residential district, seemingly far more advanced in civilization. Electrical wires spread throughout the entire area like spiderwebs, poised somewhere between chaos and order; a slight alteration would give people an utterly different impression.
Slogans urging Orks to breed less and think more covered the town. Ongron had long realized that the planet could not withstand the Orks' growth, so he had begun promoting moderation among the boyz early on.
The Power of Belief