The Primarchs Return:

The Siege of Terror

By HarmonicaJay

In the Grim Darkness of the Far Future... There is Only War.

10,000 years ago, the Horus Heresy destroyed the dream of the Imperium of Man to become the ultimate power in the Galaxy and for a new Golden Age of Man to begin. The Emperor of Mankind is interred on the Golden Throne where he directs and watches over mankind's travels through the Warp, his continued survival coming at the sacrifice of 1000 Psykers every day.

The Primarchs, his genetically engineered sons, disappeared into legend until, one by one, they returned to try and help bring the Imperium back from the darkness. However, with the return of the Loyal, comes the return of the Disloyal.

Konrad Curze, Primarch of the Night Lords, has returned as the Avatar and vessel of the Fifth God of Chaos Malice. Leading a host of Chaos Marines and Chaos Worshippers, Curze has spent six years planning a Crusade of Chaos to wipe Terra and the Emperor of Mankind off the face of the Galaxy once and for all, thus beginning the plunge of the Galaxy into Chaos.

Vulkan, Primarch of the Salamanders and Regent of Terra, has been dealt a serious blow by Curze's machinations as his adopted daughter, N'Bella, has been rendered comatose and her soul disconnected from her body. Trapped in the Warp, N'Bella wanders the wastes of the Warp, escorted by the spirits of Ferrus Manus, Primarch of the Iron Hands, Jago Sevatar of the Night Lords, and Hazon Dak'ir of the Salamanders to find the Emperor.

Meanwhile, Vulkan, Roboute Guilliman, and Corvus Corax, prepare to take their armies to Terra to take place in its defense against the coming tide of Chaos while other Primarchs and Chapters prepare for their own battles...

Prologue: A game with the Praetorian

Five years ago...

Captain Gareth Foldrin of the Terran Imperial Guard, Sixth Regiment, 1st Company, 3rd Platoon, had been summoned by the Praetorian. The Praetorian, Rogal Dorn, the seventh son of the God-Emperor Himself, the Wall of Terra, wanted to see him. It was amazing and he felt completely unworthy of the honor. Gareth wondered why he had been called. He was nothing special. It may have had something to do with the Heretic attack at the Lion's Gate Spaceport, but he was only a cog in repelling that attack. Colonel Garrett and Lieutenant Keyes had been in charge of the counterattack against the Terrorists, not he.

His contribution had helped of course, but anyone else could have seen how to properly circumvent the Heretic's plan to plant bombs underneath the landing pads, thus rendering them inoperable. Their lack of pushing forward from the Spaceport when they clearly had the advantage of surprise had been so obvious, Colonel Garrett could have seen it. But Foldrin had been the one to notice it and had lead his platoon to find the reason for the holding back. It had worked and they had disabled the bombs and the Heretics had been killed.

All Gareth had gotten was a dressing down from Colonel Garrett for abandoning his post, but he was lucky to walk away with just that. He did not join the Guard for praise or for medals. He did it because it was his duty to the God-Emperor to serve. He would probably die in combat, but that was the life of a soldier and he was proud to be part of the Guard and of his recent promotion to Captain. But now he was being called to the Praetorian after years of skirting by without making waves. He had no idea what to expect. He only hoped he could muster the courage to look Rogal Dorn in the eye.

As he approached the highest point of the tower where the Praetorian made his residence, he noticed the lack of guards. Surely such an important figure as Rogal Dorn would warrant an honor guard of Space Marines or Astra Militarum. But it was almost as if Dorn welcomed anyone to try to attack him as much as visit him. Quite odd indeed for a demigod.

Then he noticed something. It was faint, but it looked like a red dot, almost pinprick sized, on the wall to his left. He rubbed at it, but it didn't come away. Then he noticed a faint glow around the edges and, deciding to test a theory, put his hand in front of it. The dot was there on the palm of his hand. Squinting his eyes, he looked in what he theorized was the direction the dot was coming from. Sure enough, he noticed a tiny device, almost the size of a small coin, hidden in the cracks of a pillar. Rather than tempt fate, Gareth decided to leave it where it was and continue on his way. He was beginning to understand why there were no guards. Rogal Dorn was a master of defensive strategies and siege tactics. If he was taking up residence somewhere, he would make sure it was defended, even if you had to strain your eyes to find the defenses.

Finally, he made it to the door. It was a very large door, sized perfectly for a Primarch. He knocked twice and waited for a response. The door opened to reveal a massive office, sparsely decorated with some velum charts with drawings on them with a massive desk with two chairs in front of it and one behind it in front of yellow curtains. Some were building plans while others were designs of battleships and tanks. They were intricately detailed with special attention paid to weaponry and armor plating. He realized that these had been drawn by Dorn himself. They were amazing.

"Do you like them?" A deep basso voice from the behind the curtains foretold the coming of Dorn as he stepped out from behind them. The Praetorian was wearing a military uniform of no distinct faction. It was black with gold trimming with the symbol of the Imperial Fists on his left shoulder. There were no medals as he would expect of a hero like Dorn. He should have been decked out in hundreds of medals thanks to his many deeds. There should have been trophies of his past deeds all over the room. Yet it was bare except for the essentials that a master tactician needed. It was nothing like what he expected.

"You have been staring for quite sometime, Captain Foldrin. Normally people like you are staring at the floor because they are afraid that if they look at me, they will burst into flames because of my 'divine presence.' You are a definite improvement over the last two men I saw recently."

"M-My Lord? Oh, my apologies, I did not mean to be rude by staring. I just... I expected something grander from the Praetorian of Terra."

"Trophies? Medals? Heads of Xenos and Heretics? No, I don't need them. My needs are simple."

"I can see that, My Lord. Now... what did you require me for, Lord Dorn? I was surprised to be called by someone like you. I am a nobody and... I just was surprised. Apologies for my rudeness."

"A nobody? Is that what you think of yourself?"

"I am merely a cog in the Astra Militarum, Lord Dorn. I am a necessary part, but I can be replaced. It's who I am."

"I see. I will tell you something, Captain: In the hundreds of years I was alive I have never met a nobody. I have never met someone unimportant. Now, sit in one of the chairs I placed in front of my desk. I need to continue our conversation in the right way."

"What do you mean?"

"How good are you at strategy games?"

"What...?"

"Strategy games. I enjoy playing them from time to time, but I require someone on my level. I think you might be on the way to that level."

"I assure you, Lord Dorn, I am not. I could never compare to-"

"Captain, if you do not sit down and try to beat me in a game of my choosing, I will demote you to the rank and file and send you off to die against the Tyranids. Is that understood?"

The color left Gareth's face at that ultimatum. "Crystal clear, Lord Dorn." He sat behind one of the chairs which automatically raised itself to be on the same eye level as the desk. "Very... interesting technology, My Lord."

"It's a chair, Captain. This is interesting technology."

Pressing a button under his desk, the top of it opened up to reveal a holographic table. Miniature buildings and people shimmered into life. Foldrin realized that he was seeing a miniature representation of the palace and its defenses outside of the Lion's Gate. Looking closer at the people on his side, he saw that they were a mixture of Imperial Guards and Imperial Fists while Lord Dorn's side had what appeared to Heretic Astartes. "This is a game, Lord Dorn?"

"Yes. I want to see how you will do in a scenario that requires you to protect the palace from invasion."

"But when would I have to-"

"Just do it. And do try to win your way."

Foldrin nodded and began organizing his defenses. Heavy guns on the walls, tanks placed in trenches to be used as makeshift turrets that could become mobile at a moment's noticed. Imperial Fists were placed on the front lines with the Imperial Guard placed on the walls to provide support fire. As he continued to organize his troops, he wondered what the Primarch meant by "win your way". He had never fought a war like this in his life, but he would do his best to win.

As the fighting began, he noticed the heraldry on the Heretic Astartes was that of the Iron Warriors Legion. He found it amusing that the Primarch would be controlling his Chapter's greatest rivals and wondered how he would control them. The Iron Warriors began firing their armour upon the walls in an opening salvo so Foldrin responded in kind. Ordering his Imperial Guard troops to take cover, he decided to risk his armour by ordering his tanks forward with the Tank Destroyers in the front line. If he were to win, he would need the artillery taken care of.

The Destroyers bombarded the guns and the Iron Warriors' front line to the point where eventually there were no guns left. Or so it seemed at first. A pair of Baneblade Tanks with signs of corruption emerged from the smoke and flanked the Destroyers, opening fire. He immediately had them pulled back and had the Destroyers fire as they moved. He moved his gaze around the battlefield as they did. He had to make sure to keep his mind everywhere. If he concentrated on one aspect of the battle only then it would be lost before it had begun.

As the fight continued on, the Iron Warriors and the Imperial Fists engaged in combat. The Imperial Guards opened fire and the guns on the Wall followed suit. The battle raged on and on, but it seemed odd that the Iron Warriors were not pressing their advantage. It was clear that even with the defenses, they had the edge in numbers, but they were not pushing forward. Something was off.

Then he noticed their right flank trenches. It seemed that they were... digging further through the streets and downwards. As if they were digging a tunnel into the wall. He then noticed what looked to be an explosive device in their possession. A bolt of inspiration struck Foldrin as he realized what they were doing. Just like at the Spaceport. Ordering three squads of Imperial Fists and two Leman Russ tanks to intercept them, he had the trench surrounded and bombarded. He was about to continue on with the rest of the battle when the hololith froze. He looked up to see Dorn smiling at him. "Well done, Captain. Well spotted."

"Lord Dorn?"

"You spotted the weakness in your defenses and you took care of it. You found a problem that others may have ignored and you took care of it. Just like the Spaceport."

"This was a test?"

"Yes. Do you know who else I tested on this? Your commanding officer. He couldn't see it and neither could his second. You did. You saw the bigger picture. You have promise, but require a bit more learning if you are to become what you are meant to be."

"And... what am I mean to be, My Lord?"

"Warmaster of the Neo Solar Auxilia."

"W-Warmaster?! Lord Dorn, I am unworthy to be in such a position."

"Macharius, Slado, and Macaroth started out as normal soldiers before becoming the great men that lead armies. Foldrin, you are just like them. You have that potential and I will make sure it comes to fruition."

"But... why the Solar Auxilia? We have no need for something like that."

"Not yet. Captain, but the need will arise. I believe in preparing for anything and in the last several years, Terra has been under attack and even though it has remained standing, that does not make it invincible. We need to prepare and I need a Warmaster of the Neo Solar Auxilia by my side."

"But surely you would be the best person for the job, Lord Dorn?"

"If Mankind is to survive it requires humans to fight for it as well as Transhumans. Mankind needs to be able to stand on its own. My brothers and I may have returned, but we may be gone again one day. We cannot be here forever."

Those words frightened Foldrin. To him and many others in the Imperium, the Primarchs were the living aspects of the God-Emperor Himself. They were Demigods and thus near immortal. However, he had heard the rumors surrounding Lord Dorn's return. If they were correct, the being in front of him wasn't quite the original Dorn of legend. But if he was right about the coming wars, then Mankind needed more defenses. He bowed his head to the Primarch. "Teach me, Lord Praetorian."

Five Years Later...

The word had arrived from Ultramar via Astropathic Choir and Warmaster Gareth Foldrin was heading to the Bhab Bastion to meet with the Praetorian. For five years, the Warmaster had studied under Dorn's tutelage until he had felt confidant to stand on his own as a leader of men. Now it was his time and Terra would soon be under siege. Despite the feeling of oncoming danger, Foldrin felt excited. It was his first true command outside of war games and strategy game sessions. Now he would command on a scale not seen since the Sabbat Worlds Crusade. It was horrifying and exciting. He was ready.

Outside of Bhab Bastion Command, he saw a face he'd grown used to in the several years since his training had begun. Tor Garadon, Captain of the 3rd Company of the Imperial Fists and Equerry to Rogal Dorn, stood outside the massive doors to the Command Center. Despite the Captain's rough demeanor, Foldrin did consider the Captain a friend and he hoped Garadon felt the same. He had faced off against Garadon several times in combat drills and had won three of them. He felt proud of that fact that he'd outmaneuvered an Imperial Fist's defensive measures.

"Captain."

"Warmaster."

Warmaster. The title still intimidated him. Not just because of his predecessors but also because of the original holder of that name. The Arch-Traitor Horus Lupercal. During his training, Dorn had told him of what had happened during the Heresy and what Horus had been like before his corruption by the Dark Powers of Chaos. He feared becoming like that being. Could one man hold such power and not fall into insanity? He hoped he could measure up to the Primarch's expectations. But now was not the time for doubts. Now was the time to step up.

"It is time, Captain?"

Garadon simply nodded. "It is time. War is coming to Terra and it is time to build the Last Wall."

Author's Notes:

I'm back, everyone! The prologue has been written and one of the principle characters has been introduced. Still gonna be planning stuff out carefully, but I have the overall scope thought out. It's not gonna immediately go to the Siege, oh, no. This is gonna be big. And I plan to give this the proper payoff.

The character of Foldrin is one that I hope reaches his potential. I had the idea of a guard who reached a reasonable rank and was told "You can be more". While we see many great stories like Gaunt's Ghosts that focus on the Guards, the main thing to remember about the Imperial Guard is that they are mainly cogs in the machine of war. Foldrin is aware that he's a cog and thus considers himself unimportant. But along comes a Demigod to tell him that he is important and he has a chance to prove it.

It's time to build the Walls.