The atmosphere of the Steel Flame Furnace glimmered with a sickly copper-green hue.
Tai Shichen stood before the observation window on the bridge, the star map projection on his power armor overlapped with the heavy industrial zone of the planet below. The orc war banner atop the Foundry Temple spire was as large as a cruiser, and tens of thousands of green-skinned technicians were piecing together some kind of orbital weapon from scrap iron.
"The Founding General activated the planetary shield before escaping." The Technical Priest's mechanical tentacles swiftly glided across the datapad, "We need at least thirty standard hours to complete the decoding."
