Geography: Temperate, barren, seas polluted beyond recognition
Population: 15 billion, plus a huge but uncounted outcast population
Tithe Grade: Exactus Extremis
Government Type: Proxy council of ministers subservient to Praefectrix Charlotta Anastasia XX
Planetary Governor: Proxy High Minister Lord Alphax Duss
Adept Presence: All major sub-divisions of the Adeptus Terra represented in missions in the Pellucid Tower, plus numerous headquarters and fortress-vaults across the planet.
Military: Grand Army of the Sovereign
Trade: Major importer of luxury goods to the numerous nobles quartered on the world. Other elements of the world’s economy based on provision of administrative services, via bonded stipends dating back many thousands of years.
The world of Juno has stood as the capital of the Askellon Sector since time immemorial. It is commonly held as the first of the Founding Worlds to have been settled. The planet’s ruling classes regard themselves as the elite of the sector, claiming the colony vessel that seeded their civilisation was the one carrying the finest of the fleet. Whether this is truth or fantasy, the rulers of Juno have always comported themselves as aristocratic masters, and place enormous stock in preserving what they regard as the purity of their labyrinthine bloodlines. While the aristocracy live artificially-extended lives of unimaginable luxury, their world cracks apart and their claimed control over the sector becomes more precarious.
Each year, more shards of the cyclopean edifice sheer away, eroding the aristocracy’s power, though they have yet to realise how badly. Their retainers dare not speak such truths to them, as the majority care little for such things and are concerned only that their existence should continue uninterrupted. An increasingly small number amongst them are still loyal to the greater Imperium and struggle to maintain Askellon, though most fear it is in vain.
As the Pandaemonium grows in this era, the aristocracy of Juno grows ever more distant and detached. Their balls and banquets become ever more decadent and outré, their costumes ever more flamboyant, and their behaviour ever more outrageous. Those who have witnessed these excesses whisper of the Emperor’s judgement being brought down upon their pampered heads, while rebellion simmers amongst the teeming masses. Indeed, some masked harbingers of doom preach sermons blaming all of the sector’s woes on the debauchery of the aristocracy, holding that only by casting the ruling classes down might the fall of the entire sector be averted. Life on Juno is fast approaching a tipping point, though its rulers appear entirely unaware of their own peril.
The surface of Juno reflects the planet’s long and war-torn history. Nothing of its original environment remains, the seas having been replaced by swamps of toxic sludge, and every shred of native biomass having been consumed in one manner or another. Numerous sprawling cities exist on the surface, but only a minority are occupied at any one time, officially at least. The world has been assaulted or invaded so many times throughout its long history that its cities have each been abandoned, re-occupied, levelled, or rebuilt many times over.
The world’s ruling classes, as well as the headquarters of various branches of the Adeptus Terra and other Imperial institutions, occupy structures that resemble mighty bastions. The roads are lined with statues many metres high, and ragged banners sway in the breeze along processionals hundreds of miles long. The skeletal remains of cities lost to long-forgotten wars fill the war-torn wastes between those cities currently thriving. Within these wastes are said to exist all manner of outcasts: mutants struck low by the taint of genetic corruption from the toxins saturating the very ground, Warp-worshipping cults, recidivist enclaves, and even infiltrators of any number of xenos species. Periodically the rulers order such areas purged, partly out of paranoia and disgust, but as much because it is inevitable that they will have to be rebuilt at some point as the tides of war sweep their existing cities away.
The cities are places of enormous contradiction. The weight of power and age rests heavily upon them, even as new structures are thrown up to replace those entirely torn down. The greatest edifices of Juno are riddled with craters and plasma fractures many thousands of years old. All is dilapidated grandeur, grand balls and banquets being thrown in towering halls where walls are pock-marked and the cracked roofs are open to the pollution-streaked heavens. Despite the damage wrought upon its fabric, the world still retains a palpable air of age and power that few can deny.
Juno is the pre-eminent world in the Askellon Sector and seat of the Adeptus Terra’s sector-wide bodies of government. While each world has a planetary governor, matters requiring sub-sector or sector authority are vested in the Sector Praefect. This office is allotted via complex traditions of inheritance within the Askellian nobility, subject to ratification by the Senatorum Imperialis. The Praefect oversees inter-planetary affairs and represents the sector to external bodies, including the High Lords of Terra. Though the Praefect cannot directly interfere with planetary rulers, they exercise enormous influence through the control of trade routes.
The incumbent, Praefectrix Charlotta Anastasia XX, rules from the Pellucid Tower. While adored and feared, she has withdrawn from public life, residing in armoured crypts deep within the Tower's foundations. Paranoid and secretive, she relies on advisors who feed her lies, leading her to order legions against imaginary foes or command lost systems to host grand visitations. While she occasionally holds court with mysterious emissaries, her attention has largely drifted from reality, leaving Juno's governance to a sycophantic coterie.
The capital city, Vesuna Regis, houses close to a billion souls within an assemblage of ancient, battle-scarred constructions. It sits upon foundations sunk deep into the crust by the first colonists; crypts rumoured to contain archaeotech and relics of the Dark Age of Technology. These rumours draw treasure hunters and Machine Cult agents, though the subterranean strata are populated by countless mutants. Organised expeditions are discouraged, as they often trigger horrific uprisings from the feral undercity that require protracted military campaigns to suppress.
The centre of the Imperial Creed in Askellon is the Basilica of Valerius Risen, a structure so colossal its spires pierce the lower atmosphere, held aloft by archaeotech anti-gravitic generators. From the summit, Arch Cardinal Harus leads the Sector Synod. A devout follower of Saint Valerius, Harus preaches that the Emperor is abandoning Askellon due to the taint of its people. Daily services, attended by masses herded by stave-wielding Ardentii Zealots, broadcast wails of lamentation across the city via vox-hailers, ensuring the message of doom is unavoidable.
As the sector capital, Juno hosts numerous Imperial institutions, though many are degraded or leaderless.
Adeptus Arbites: Headquartered at Bastion-Precinct Omega in Vesuna Regis, the Arbites are led by High Marshal Wilhelm. Kept alive by juvenat treatments, the senile and paranoid Wilhelm has unleashed countless purges without evidence, believing the execution of the innocent is a price worth paying to root out sin.
Astropathic Choir: The sector’s principle choir operates from an ancient complex near the capital. Following the death of the Master Astropath a decade ago, the leaderless choir rotates direction amongst senior members, resulting in erratic communication. Some messages are believed to be twisted by fell powers to seed anarchy.
Adeptus Administratum: Based at the Regis Chancellery, Lord High Comptroller-General Avak Numinor oversees the cataloguing of sector resources. The atmosphere is one of terror; the staff fear that emissaries from Terra will discover their tithe-data is generations out of date and execute them for failure.
Juno’s Enforcers, known as the Vigil, maintain a veneer of civility that masks a callous sadism. They are a hereditary class, distinct from the citizenry, and view crime and disrespect wherever they wish. While they are not corrupt- bribery invites immediate punishment in the Excoriation Cubes- they are known to scorn both the nobility and the common masses, making any request for their aid a dangerous gamble.
The Grand Army of the Sovereign, or "Oldbloods," is a standing force of millions steeped in tradition. Resplendent in gold-chased cuirasses and purple sleeves, they are often mistaken for ceremonial troops. In reality, they are highly experienced, constantly purging the wastes of mutants and possessing a deep institutional memory of fighting Mankind's enemies. Despite their competence, they are viewed with contempt by the citizenry, often deployed to bolster the Vigil during civil disorders.
While official figures list fifteen billion citizens, the true population is far higher due to the hordes of outcasts inhabiting the ruin-strewn wastes. These groups include refugees, cannibal mutants, psychic wyrds, and archaeotech hunters. Recently, a population of religious zealots has risen, following the teachings of a cast-out preacher who denounced the nobility. These fanatics forcibly convert those they encounter, growing into a threat that the arrogant nobility continues to ignore.