Warhammer: Start with a dog.
Chapter 739: The Question of Whether Astartes Stinks or Not
Chapter 739 Regarding the question of whether Astartes actually smells bad...
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*All daily life content, feel free to skip if you don't like it.
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“I originally thought they would smell like something out of a movie. But it turns out that only you—excuse my offense—smell like a cool and fragrant summer night, which is both unexpected and captivating.”
As the four of them walked together toward their living quarters, Ignas Calcacy, who had been silent for some time, suddenly broke the silence, perhaps out of fear of walking too quietly or a desire to liven things up.
“What?” Ramizam didn’t react. “Who? But thank you for the compliment, and please don’t use honorifics when we’re together now, Ignas.”
"Perhaps I need a little more time and some good wine to get used to this dreamlike feeling, as if I've just taken a hit..."
The poet muttered, then raised his voice.
“Astartes, I mean, Rami...Zane, I’ve lived my whole life in Terra and the inner solar system. You know, I only boarded an ocean-going starship for the first time after I was chosen, and I first saw Astartes up close two months ago. It was only last week that I brushed past the Astartes after they took off their armor.”
"so?"
"I thought they would smell somewhat... different from what we imagined, you... you know? I mean, if they were like the legendary ancient heroes who conquered the galaxy, the superheroes for whom we wrote poems and hymns, they would at least meet our expectations in some way, like smelling like fragrant lemon and citrus or at least fresh olive oil."
So what is your conclusion?
"It smells like my neighbor's kids, who played rugby all day in the hottest part of summer and are now standing in front of me without changing out of their jerseys and shoes."
"...Is it that bad? I remember that the Astartes Physiology and Power Armor design included a function specifically designed to address this problem."
"Don't listen to his nonsense, Ramizann... Ramizann."
Euphrates cleared his throat. "I think that although there is a smell of sweat, it's normal for anyone who has been running around or firing for days or even weeks without washing up to have a body odor. They are warriors, Ignatius, warriors. You can't expect warriors to be clean while fighting on the battlefield."
"...So the Shadowmoon Wolves here really do have a strong body odor. How come I never noticed that before... Sigh, wait a minute, it could also be a problem with the power armor model."
Ramizan pondered, perhaps it's because the Mark III and Mark IV are still in service in large numbers?
That doesn't make sense either. The Shadowmoon Wolf Legion's new power armor distribution is going quite well; everywhere you look, they're all fully equipped with Mark IVs—ha, it reminds me of the Iron Warriors who are still struggling to get their hands on Mark IIs, with Mark IIIs being the newest equipment only veterans can get. Ha, Horus, you bastard.
He silently grumbled to himself for a moment, then continued to ponder. But the Mark IV was used in Astartes for ten thousand years, and many chapters regarded it as a glorious and precious relic. He hadn't heard of anyone becoming sweaty and smelly after wearing the Mark IV, had he? And wasn't it said that Astartes' skin secretions could keep it clean and have a relatively normal smell? Besides, the Iron Warriors, Imperial Fist, and others he encountered... didn't smell very bad.
—Thank goodness, on his side, the Ironhearts aren't World Eaters anymore, and instead of reeking of fermented, aged blood and bits of flesh, they smell of intense desert spices; Utherma Attra and his offspring have always had excellent taste in perfume; the Imperial Sons, once recruited by Ishtar or Pallas, at least retain their perfume on their hair; and the Death Guard's scent is still completely unthinkable…
Perhaps it was the way he seemed to be seriously considering this seemingly trivial but important question that made Messadi Eurydane feel a little guilty, and she decided to speak up and clarify things for some Astartes that weren't so bad.
“But that’s not what I smelled, Ignas,” she said. “I don’t know where you got that conclusion, but at least when I interviewed Company Commander Gavial Locken a while ago, he smelled perfectly fine, like ointment, sweet and fresh.”
This successfully regained Ramizan's attention.
“The word ‘sweet’ is unusual for an Astartes, especially a Shadowmoon Wolf, Mesadi.”
"My personal guess is that it's the scent of a mixture of equipment conditioning oil and body jojoba oil, sweet almond oil, or hair oil. I'm not sure which one he used, but I can tell you for sure that Captain Ezekiel Abaddon must have used a lot of hard hair wax on his super tall braids to make them stand so straight and high on his head."
"Didn't you say before that Loken was hard to approach? Why are you giving him an interview?"
A hint of embarrassment and annoyance flashed across Ms. Oriton's soft, ebony face. "Actually, I was only granted permission to interview Company Commander Togarden after submitting countless applications," she said with a slightly helpless expression.
"But when I arrived, the adjutant of Company Commander Togarden said he was too busy to give me an interview, so I was taken to Company Commander Loken. Company Commander Togarden sent word that 'Loken has a good story about being present when Lord Horus killed the Emperor.'"
—That story is so good that it has been told by different people over and over again.
"...Hmm...I believe this was an extremely tempting bait for a chronicler like you, and you were clearly successfully lured into becoming the 'Ms. Oriton' of the 'Curvy Mouth'."
The dark-skinned narrator turned his head and chuckled softly, and the other two seemed to relax a little as well.
Is the "upturned mouth" a type of fish?
"Yes, it's a common freshwater fish on the Old Earth. Anglers also call it a striped fish or a whitefish."
"An interesting metaphor. I've never heard anyone use it like that before, Lamizain. It's been a pleasure chatting with you. May I add this metaphor to my notes?"
"Of course, please do."
"Speaking of which, you're now planning to join us as a recorder and personally go down... how was it again?"
"Go deep into the grassroots to listen to the people's voices, draw a new picture of science and technology, solve problems through hands-on practice, and unite our efforts for the long journey," Ramizan said casually.
Ignas immediately opened his notebook excitedly and wrote it down. “Excellent! Sir! I mean, Mr. Ramizann, I should…”
While the poet mumbled and frowned as he revised the poem, they went into the cabin that had been reassigned to them.
This is a relatively secluded part of the residential area. Because it is separated from the main residential area of the chroniclers by a corridor, many people choose to walk a few steps less and are unwilling to live here.
"Excellent, everyone."
After taking a quick look around the cabin, Rami sat down on the sofa in the center. "Now tell me your work plans and the people you're applying for. I will then decide on my research plan based on your progress."
The three reporters exchanged glances.
Finally, Euphrates Kira stepped forward first. "Next, I plan to photograph the pre-war ceremony of Company Commander Gavial Locken landing in the Southern Hemisphere at 63-19 to carry out counterinsurgency operations. I am a freelance and war photographer, and I will specifically capture some shots that I think are symbolic and commemorative."
“I plan to continue interviewing each company commander, with priority given to members of the Council of Four Kings,” Messadi said. “Currently, the chief company commander is the most… uncooperative. Company Commander Asimand simply doesn’t respond to my requests, Company Commander Togarden always makes excuses, and only Company Commander Locken, I might be able to speak to, but I’m not sure.”
She shrugged. "After all, he kicked me out very angrily at the end of the last interview just because I didn't add a respectful title after your brother's name. He gave me a long lecture."
Carl Casey scratched his head. “I’ve been requesting interviews with everyone I could possibly reach for over a month, but there’s been no sign of any approval.” Even with his thick skin, he couldn’t help but blush slightly. “I’m afraid I’ll have to rely on your help in this matter.”
“Alright.” Ramizan nodded. “Obviously, the sweet and refreshing Gavial is our next subject for follow-up interviews. Don’t worry, I’ll tell my brother about it.”
(End of this chapter)
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