Built by the Iron weld engineers, the Grey water Fastness is a towering stronghold of ironclad walls, roaring furnaces, and cannon batteries. It stands as one of three Seeds of Hope in the Realm of Ghyran, a pillar of industrial strength and resolute defense in uncertain times. As the Season of War raged and the armies of Order marched out to defend their newly established enclaves, the gods looked on with hope and with hate. The coming days would determine whether the Seeds of Hope would flourish into something greater, or be left as blackened husks, sad memorials to the glory that might have been.
To the south of the city lay the Torrid Crossing, one of the few safe routes across the Rivers of Ghyran. Bordering on the fetid swamps that had been putrefied by waste out of the Grey water Fastness, a few meager bridges allowed armies to march to and from the city and an ancient watchtower overlooked the pass. In the days before the Seasons of War it had fallen to the Stormcasts winged prosecutors to scout the region, mapping the paths the chaos forces would use to assault on the Seeds of Hope, dispatching forces to all the major crossings of the rivers.
As the wars commenced the Chamber Colossus were dispatched to the Torrid Crossing, awaiting reinforcements from the Dispossessed and Mercantile warriors of the Fyre Slayers. Rank upon rank of Judicator Archers lined the river banks, winged Prosecutors flitting in the sky above to sound the advance of the Chaos Forces. To each of the major bridges columns of Paladins were sent to choke the chaos forces at all the major holding points, and to the flanks the elite soldiers of the Chamber Extremis, the mighty beast of the Drakesworn Templar overseeing the Stormcast defense, and his Dracothian Guard to hunt down enemy flanking forces. Finally the Ranks of Sylvaneth and the Arcane College formed a rear guard, Kurnoth Hunters and a Celestial Hurricanum reinforcing the glistening golden army of the Stormcast
There were three main hold points at the crossing, to the east lay the one safe pass through the swamp, a treacherous trail that would allow the forces of chaos to sneak around the city and attack from undefended quarters. To the west the ancient watchtower that would allow fortified defense of the River and ultimately control of crossings for miles. And between lay the bridges, formed when the Grey water Fastness had been built to allow hundreds of soldiers to ford the river in safety.
As dawn broke over the Crossing the Prosecutors above sounded the approach of the Chaos forces, from the forests marched formation after formation of hulking Chaos Warriors, clad in beaten iron armor and wielding vicious axes their slow thunderous advance crushed branch and life itself underfoot, the rumble of galloping steeds of the knights at chaos was punctuated by the roar of a mutated chaos Dragon Beast that formed the mount for the Chaos lord. To their rear crackling sciences of Skaven engineers had produced lightning cannons to fell the walls should such a force ever reach the cities outer limits.
Yet such monstrosities did not travel alone, the twisted warp infused forms of the Daemons of tzeentch walked alongside them, leaving not a footprint nor emanating a breath they stood ready to aid the Chaos advance. The thin elongated bird form of a Lord of Change overseeing gibbering hosts of pink horrors who exuded magics into the air around them.
The tide of twisted chaos soldiers swarmed toward the crossing, Knights pushing ahead of warriors to seize the central bridge as the lighting cannon spat out foul energies that failed to find their marks. With a twist of his avian claws the Lord of Change ripped open the walls of the realm to bring hideous flamers into reality at the base of the watch tower. Behind them the slow trudge of the armored Warriors rumbled on, slow but relentless in approaching the bridges, their foul lord circling overhead.
As their marks came into range the ranks of Judicator Archers turned the sky dark with hails of arrows arching through the air, the winds of the Hurricanum steering the Sigmarite arrows with eerie grace through the sky and ripping Knight After Knight from their Chaotic Steeds, the Dracothian Guard rushed forward to the bridge to meet the knights advance in a clash of Armored Horse and Scaled Dracoth. Steel met Steel and Hoof met claw as the vicious roars of the Dracoths roared out victorious, the feeble knights attempts to hold the central advance thwarted and yet still one of their Mounted Lieutenants fought on to hold the Stormcast back.
Ancient oaks of the Kurnoth Hunters turned their gaze to the Skaven Warp Engine, their bows groaning under the strain before massive arrows took flight, each finding a Skaven crewman and forcing him flying meters back from their war machine, pinning them to the dirt and trees alike as punishment for their crimes in Ghyran.
And yet even finding early success the Stormcast stood outnumbered, should the Chaos forces cross the river they would soon overwhelm the defenders and the dwarven reinforcements were nowhere in sight. Instead the Paladins rushed forth, barely enough in number to blockade the bridges they stood a mere one rank deep at the mouth of the bridge, shoulder to shoulder with their brethren against a force many times their number. Over their heads hails of arrows peppered the incoming forces, thinning their numbers but not fast enough.
At the ancient watchtower to the west the Dracothian Templar and his ancient mount had been circling the field, unleashing hails of falling stars into the chaos forces that sought to drive their sorcerers foul magics back. Comets hurtling through the skies drove them into the ground and rendered them to ash, all the time the Templar loosing arrows from his bow to aid the Dracothians at the bridge. Below him the Stormcast Commander could see a handful of Skirmishers attempting to delay the Daemons approach, and with a thunderous roar his descended, lance driving deep into the chaos of the Lord of Change as his dragon mount swallowed up pink horrors whole, its mighty tail sweeping any who came near into the treacherous waters of the river. The Prosecutors, despite their best efforts had fallen to the flames and many handed claws of the Daemons they sought to destroy, it fell to their commanders to dispatch their quarry in their memory.
In his overconfidence the Templar had taken his eyes from the field, a second column of chaos warriors had engaged the Dracothians at the bridge, but worse still to the east his Decimators had been overwhelmed by the Warriors of Chaos. Twice their number had encircled the few desperate heroes and the Chaos Lord himself had defended, twisted Sigmarite plate lay in the dirt, blood pouring back into the river as the cruel taunts of the Chaos Warriors echoed across the field. The warp infused Lord of Chaos flew over the river toward the lines of Archers, his mount impaled time and time again by Sigmarite arrowheads and yet it flew on, delayed in its descent to shield its eyes from arrows but not deterred. The foot soldiers of Chaos marched over the bridge behind him the first chaos feet to cross the river into the Storm cast held territories.
Despite the best efforts of the Archers the Chaos Lord and his dragon barreled down into the lines of the Judicators. It was with a mighty roar they dropped their bows to the floor, each man pulling his gladius from sheath and running out to meet the monster, their Prime bellowing taunts to the corrupt lord atop his beast. The ego of the Chaos Lord would not allow this insult to stand, driving his Dragon forward at the prime, monstrous scaled beast driving into the floor as the Prime lept up to meet its advance gladius outstretched. Both forces grew silent, the dust cloud from the Lords descent hiding the fate of both soldiers, and yet as it cleared the golden armor of the prime lay crushed in the dirt, blood flowing freely from rents ripped in his flesh by the dragons foul maw, and yet atop him lay the corpse of the monster, gladius buried deep into the back of its throat.
The Lord himself was nowhere to be seen, buried perhaps beneath the corpses, or swept away in the river, or perhaps fled back to his masters to beg their forgiveness. Leaderless the Chaos forces were routed, fleeing back across the river as the Stormcast pursued, their fates to be decided another day perhaps.
Back in the glistening forged of Azyr the soul of the Judicator Prime found its way home, the foul energies of the Chaos Dragons souls entwined with its own. Time and time again the agony of reforging was endured, and yet time and time again the corruption persisted, the soul could be reshaped by the two could not be separated. It was then, by act of mercy or gratitude for his sacrifice that the hand of Alarielle was enlisted, her life magics coiling within the broken soul of the Judicator, where Sigmar forged with strength and light her subtleties sought to reshape the two merged souls. With a deafening roar a new Stormcast was forged, to stand at the head of the Chamber Colossus, two souls united to lead them in the defense of life.
The man who once stood Prime of the Judicators instead emerged Lord Celestant of the Host, the Warped soul of the dragon reforged into his mount by the will of Alarielle.
The First Battle for Maidstone: MAJOR ORDER VICTORY

In the nights that followed the clash between Chamber Colossus and the Slaves to Darkness the forests around Ghyran echoed with the blood curdling screams of Chaos worshipers being hunted down and cleaved asunder, there would be no shadowed hole for them to find refuge, no stronghold they could make secure without the shining golden legions of Sigmar finding them. And yet the Chaos Lieutenants did not sit idle, minor warlords taking advantage of the confusion and disarray to marshal their own warbands, absorbing the tattered remnants of those who had fallen before them into new armies to march upon the Greywater Fastness.
Fallen princes of old now sat atop a monstrous array of mounts, from warp infused steeds, the twisted shapes of the Manticores or the cold scaled forms of the Dragons that had been bent to the wills of Chaos. To stem this tide before it became a tsunami across the forests of Ghyran the newly formed Lord Celestant Drákon atop his ancient mount set out to sever the heads of the Chaos Warlords, content to leave their minions to fester and decay through infighting. If every man of note could be slain then their forces would fade into obscurity and become a mere footnote in the tomes of Ghyran.
In the dead of night the giant winged forms of the Star Drakes swung sliently in the skies above, ranks of the Judicator Archers taking up positions around the Chaos Encampments to try and pick out their quarry from on high. The warriors of Chaos were not to be caught unawares however, as the Stormcast Approached the manicores of chaos grew restless, ancient predators scratching and clawing at the forests around them, the scent of fresh prey approaching filled their lungs and awoke the blood lust that always sat so close to the surface.
And thus when battle was joined the forces of Chaos were prepared to repel the Assault, column after column of blackened armoured warriors leapt through realmgates to meet the Judicators in the field, arcane artillery blasting the Dracoth cavalry back to Azyr to nurse their wounds. Ranks of noble Retributors cleaved into the Chaos ranks, cutting a bloody swathe deep into the enemy encampments, seeking out the Lords that had to fall that night.
It would however be the Stardrakes that found their quary, the Chaos Lords unable to resist the chance to fell their Stormcast Counterparts manticore and warp dragon alike leapt at the Drakesworn Templar that had slighted them in the days before. Beastial claws and Magick laced weaponry sought to find purchase through the Stardrakes hide, but each blow glanced off leaving little but a chip in the celestial beast.
For his own part the Drakesworn found amusement in the arrogance of the Chaos forces, centuries had been sent honing his craft at slay monsterous creatures, despite fierce resistance from his foes the Templar plunged his relic blade into the hearts of these foul beasts, cleaving from life as their riders fell helplessly back to the ground below.
Lord Celestant Drákon looked on, a cold smirk crossing his lips obscured by his runic helm, his mount had been driven deep into the ranks of Chaos Warriors, massive jaws consuming the feeble warriors beneath him, claws digging rents through their corrupted armour. In his soul old memories stirred, bloodshed... the joy of it, the satisfaction... and yet as quick as they had come they were forgotten, emerging from his daze he glanced across the field of battle. The warriors of chaos lay strewn across the dirt and grass, bodies washing down the bubbling brook as the rivers flowed red. His own brethern who fell long since sent back to Azyr to be reforged anew, in this he found comfort, every fallen man would rise anew.
ORDER VICTORY