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History of Cygnus Primaris: The Stalemate at Jholinheim

Grey Knights vs mixed Chaos Space Marine Force
Game Size: 1500
Game type: secure ground three objectives deployment in table quarters
Outcome: one objective per side held. Draw game.

Jovin Kiel scrambles past the cadre of Sceptis’ rot claimed terminator bodyguards as they drag down a squealing thrashing dreadnought to the ground. Its mechanical howls of defiance are drowned out by the gurgling liquidly laughter of the Death Guard Terminators.

He rolls beneath a final swipe of the belligerent machine and takes his position near old warp gate. Its frame made of something its builder’s call “wraith bone” and that frame has been sparking with unnatural energies ever since they arrived. He can feel the familiar throb of the empyrean pulsing just beyond the veil of reality.

There is a quick respite from the trials of this conflict as he watches the dreadnought that injured and killed so many of his battle brothers fall, its hull rotted and molded by the infectious touch of the monsters that he has worked beside. Even this bit of pleasure is filled with a hidden sting. The death of the walker did not belong to the Iron Warriors but slaves to the Dark Gods.

There is a flash of movement out the corner of Jovin’s damaged visor. More Grey Knights round the forest bend. Only by the grace of the warp did he notice them and what dark fortune spared him from every shot in his hasty attempt to find cover he cannot say.

His hearts both race with adrenalin and flare with pride as a shout echoes from the Grey Knight’s firebase.

“Iron Within! Iron Without!” The war cry shouted by some of his brothers as they open fire on the servants of the corpse god of Terra felling many of their number but not enough to dislodge them from their makeshift base.

Jovin snaps from his reminiscence to reality. The ruins of Jholinheim are still loud and the city still trembles as shots from the heavens rain down. Lance strikes from the Grey Knight’s strike cruisers pound the remains of the Iron Warrior’s fortified position. He wonders if any relief from their own fleet will be coming.

“Curse these Corpse Slaves!” He groans. This is not a war to be proud of. This isn’t even war anymore. This is a chaotic melee with no purpose or direction. Under the command of that plague ridden Septis Kohl all fell apart. Had one of the Iron Warrior commanders been present to lead the charge and purge the Grey Knights from the ruins they would have succeeded. The Iron Warriors would have become the rocks of an eternal shore and all that crashed against it would have been broken. Instead they waged war the Death Guard way, wade into fire and spill into the enemy until death or victory are all that remain.

Now the city is in chaos. No side having gained anything but a butcher’s bill. Jovin takes a final moment to soak in the nonsense that has become the field of war. He looks down and reloads his Melta gun while whispering a silent prayer to the infernal forges that crafted it. He reloads the power cell, checks the stability of the muzzle and rises back to his feet.

“Iron Within… Iron Without” he mutters to himself and marches out to the battle field again. His purpose bred into him since birth. It’s kept him company these long years. In the name of the Emperor. As a soldier for his Primarch and a servant of the Warmaster Horus and the Dark Gods of the Aether. that simple purpose, endure.