Geography: The planet is an inverted hive world; its surface is a rocky wasteland of continent-spanning slums due to the War Above. The populace lives entirely in endless subterranean cities carved deep into the crust. City-sized quarries replace former plains, and Misshapen Orks roam the desolate surface.
Population: 300 Billion
Tithe Grade: Exactus Prima
Government Type: Meritocratic Oligarchy (ruled by master sculptors and carvers).
Planetary Governor: Lapidarius Primus
Adept Presence: High (Strong ties to the Ecclesiarchy via statuary commissions and Grand World nobility visits).
Military: Vouxian Guard (Maintain subterranean order and suppress surface Ork remnants).
Trade: Massive commissioned statuary and rare luxury goods like mirrorcloth.
“On this day of remembrance we raise another 300 statues, one for each year of suffering. May they stand tall until our bones are but dust!”
–Lapidariax Aeliana Septima IX
Vouxis Prime is a world as much a benefactor as it is a victim of the unpredictable Pandaemonium. Now sitting along the Grand Processional, it has become a valuable location for passages between the Rubicon and Cyclopia Sub-Sectors. However, it is most renowned for its massive statuary; the surface is almost entirely covered with towering stone sculptures, while its population dwells in subterranean cities that cut deeper into the crust with each generation. Famed across the Askellon Sector and beyond for the exquisite craftsmanship of its people, it is a world where terrible conflicts have irrevocably moulded the psyche of its populace.
Pre-Compliance Vouxis Prime bore little resemblance to the world’s current condition. Originally a verdant Low World with a peaceful population, the natives enjoyed limited relations with other planets. The Imperium’s arrival changed little; far removed from the politics of Juno, Vouxis Prime gained the title of garden world and met its tithes with enthusiasm.
For thousands of years Vouxis Prime remained the same. Far from important Warp routes and lacking industry, the populace was content with their inconsequential role. With no xenos threats, no voracious native life, and a non-existent history of mutation, many citizens lived their lives with little thought of the rest of the sector. For this isolated world, life was essentially perfect, right up until the Pandaemonium made its presence felt.
As unpredictable as it is inscrutable, the Pandaemonium flared violently as M38 came to a close. Filling the skies with terrifying displays of light, the storm left the world untouched but its population petrified. However, the Great Storm left behind a terrible gift: the Space Hulk Tide of Ruin. The vessel drifted towards the garden world for three months, time enough for the Vouxian Guard to mobilise. By the time the Tide of Ruin arrived the people were ready, or so they thought.
The hulk brought two warring xenos armies, both of whom ignored the natives to annihilate one another. One force was identified as Orks; the other remained shrouded in poisonous fog and smoke. Confident that inaction would lead to defeat, the planet’s leaders pushed the Vouxian Guard at the armies. The results were disastrous, and the few survivors returned with little more than tales of defeat.
As the aliens consumed resources, the population dug down, abandoning the surface. The "War Above" raged for an estimated 300 years, stripping the surface clean. The two alien forces exhausted themselves and eventually destroyed one another in a series of cataclysmic battles.
It took another century for the people to return to the surface; by this time not a soul lived that remembered life outside the underground cities. To them, the surface was alien. Furthermore, the concepts of sunlight and open sky seemed of little interest, as from the moment they stepped into the light they encountered something far more distressing: fields of massive Ork idols. These idols were the highest order of blasphemy to the emerging Vouxians. Almost as one, the people found a new purpose and vowed to replace each misshapen effigy with a hundred perfect works, a goal that would eventually make the world renowned across the sector.
Today, Vouxis Prime is a hive world in reverse. Rather than spires stretching into the sky, cities head downwards into the crust. The planet's leaders-the most skilled sculptors-reside at the bottom in opulent caverns, while the poorest live on the ruined surface in continent-spanning slums.
Modern Vouxian society revolves around statuary. The people have spent millennia constructing millions of stone effigies. Most rival Warlord Titans in scale; many are so tall that their upper features can only be seen from orbit. These statues dwarf the slums, and many lose their homes to make room for new works. Anyone not directly involved in creation either lives aboard the enormous Skerab Earthmovers, toils away in the forges crafting melta-chisels, or works in the capital of Davidius shipping commissioned stonework.
Vouxis Prime’s obsession with statuary is not relegated to local affairs. The purity of Vouxian statues places them in high demand among the sector’s most powerful nobles, and there are areas of Juno littered with statues of Praefectrix Anastasia XX. The world maintains a good relationship with the Askellian Ecclesiarchy by supplying endless renditions of the Emperor and saints.
Despite their resolve, Vouxis Prime’s desolate landscape would have doomed the population were it not for the Pandaemonium shifting the Warp routes. Upon returning to the surface, the people found their system now sat directly on the Grand Processional. Their closest neighbour turned out to be Kalto, the sector’s most important agri-world. Vast food resources flooded in, supplementing the miserable fungus farms that had sustained the population for generations. Some called it simple luck, but representatives of the Ecclesiarchy point to this as proof of the Emperor’s Grace.
The capital city of Davidius exists as the only major above-ground structure that is not statuary. Built from the same off-white stone present in all facets of Vouxian life, Davidius is the place where master sculptors receive nobles from other Grand Worlds. It also functions as the spaceport, featuring two massive landing pads. It serves as the lifeblood of the Vouxian people, where thousands of bulk freighters filled with consumables from Kalto arrive daily.
Discovered during the War Above by Ignatius Nore, the first Lapidarius Primus, this cavern was initially seen as a safe haven. However, the Tunnelmen discovered a mighty statue at its centre-one not carved by human hands. Impossibly tall, and stretching into the darkness, the alien statue assaulted their artistic sensibilities with unnatural angles, four-clawed fingers, and seven-taloned toes. The Tunnelmen fled, and soon after Nore ordered the cavern sealed. The statue remains, and a palpable sense of dread fills the tunnels leading to its domain. Only the very foolish ever attempt to reach it, and most never return.
Nobles across Askellon know of mirrorcloth, but few know of its origins in the Fount Argentum. Discovered during the excavation of the underground cities, this natural well fills with a silvery liquid so pure that it reflects all light. The liquid refills exactly once a year, though over time administrators noticed that with each refill, the liquid’s surface was slightly lower.
Immediately instigating a rationing system, the administrators took care to drain the well slowly. This act increased the substance’s scarcity and popularity, where any amount of mirrorcloth denoted a person of great significance. Why the well exists remains a mystery. Some believe it is the ichor of a subterranean beast, others claim it is the lifeblood of Vouxis Prime. Whatever the truth, the Fount Argentum’s overseers exist as a secretive group, resisting any attempts to drill further into the crust to find the source.
When the Orks arrived on Vouxis Prime they brought not only their desire for conflict but also their brutish belief system. Many speculate that as the War Above stretched the Ork’s resources, they turned to their worship of Gork and Mork in a desperate attempt to gain favour. Even after their destruction, Orks-or "The Misshapen"-remain on the surface in small numbers.
A hardy species capable of surviving catastrophes, the aliens endured in tiny numbers among the ruins. They coat their green skin with coloured powders and raise twisted effigies. To the sculpture-focused society, the Orks are mere vandals hindering progress towards sculpting the perfection of the human form. Clashes occur only when the Ivory Order marches to tear down Ork idols, as the aliens lack the numbers to truly fight back.
Rumours persist that other things live within the crust, a race of slowly waking creatures that grow numerous as the cities extend farther underground. In the southern regions, there are stories of nightmares that abduct people without a trace, and fiends that cling to ceilings in the shadows. Some even speak of abominations that blend into the world around them, shifting to invisibility before striking with lashing tendrils.
The ruling sculptors dismiss these claims, but aggressive shifts in political discourse, especially near the Fount Argentum, has the authorities on edge. Inquisitors of the Ordo Xenos are even more worried that these tales could indicate the presence of one of the most terrifying of all threats-the Tyranids. Efforts to quietly eradicate this menace are underway, but many fear it could be too late.