While the White Scars were instrumental in seizing the Tungusk Sector during the Great Crusade, their humiliating defeat at the hands of lowly renegades at the onset of the Horus Heresy has left the Chapter holding a bitter grudge against the sector. Thus, although they maintain several fringe recruiting world, the Chapter refuses to intercede in the growing anarchy.
The Tungusk Sector is a major centre of manufacturing, and as a result the Martian Priesthood maintains a strong presence not only upon its numerous Forge Worlds, but as ambassadors and diplomatic attaches across countless other planets. Despite their close connections with the sector nobility, however, they remain a withdrawn and secretive group, ill-disposed to any attempts, even at the highest echelons of the Imperium, to probe their arcane ranks. Yet this has not stopped them from playing the great game alongside every other organ of the corpus Imperial, backing their proxy houses as they seek to claim choice worlds for conversion to the Machine God’s holy industry.
The enduring legacy of the White Scars is remnant across the entirety of the Tungusk Sector, but in few places is it stronger than in the Administratum. Strikingly different from the normal operation of the Adeptus Corpus, within the Tungusk Sector the duty of administering the Sector still follows the ancient principles set down by the White Scars. ‘Lords-Bledic’ (Bledic: literally, ‘Cluster Chamberlain’) oversee the bureaucracy of several worlds simultaneously – spread over several close systems – usually three or four, never more than approximately half a dozen. Over this complicated web of sacred responsibility, influence, and machinations, the Sub-Sector Governors, and Sector Governor rule as normal. The power of the individual Lords-Bledic cannot be underestimated – whilst a Planetary Governor has the political strength to bring their rivals to their knees, a single motivated or vengeful Cluster Chamberlain can disrupt vast reaches of space, spelling disaster for entire factions with but the stroke of an auto-quill, or a series of voxed Dictates.
There are historically strong ties between the Imperial Guard and the Arbites in the sector. In fact it is not unusual for those who have been in the Guard to take up a position within the Arbites when their duty is done. Many of those come from poorer areas and corruption has often been rife within the Arbites, where money counts for more than Justice. There are rumours of a number of more secretive organisations existing within the Arbites of the sector, some working against the corruption, whilst others are known to disappear people in the night, looking out for any signs of possible revolution and taking extreme measures to ensure that no such thing happens on their watch.
An essential part of the sector’s communications, there are Astropaths stationed all over it, from the planets to the ships of the Imperial Navy and others. Without them the Imperium would ground to a halt as co-ordination over long distances failed. One question hangs then, how did things get so bad in the Tungusk sector without it managing to get beyond the borders? Did the messages they send fall on deaf ears, or is there something more sinister at work here among the Astropaths?
Within the sector the Ecclesiarchy is run a little differently than might otherwise be expected. All of the planets have their own synod of bishops who run things locally and above them the Cardinals have a greater synod, though usually only called when the faith in the sector is facing some sort of wider issue. With the recent upheaval in the sector the Ecclesiarchy have been taxed to keep the faithful together and there are even reports of one of their shrine worlds being lost. The Adeptus Sodalitas, certainly seem to be a lot busier than usual keeping heresies in line, trying to fill some of the vacuum left by the absence of local Inquisition agents.
Famed and sought across the Imperium for their tenacity, the Guard regiments of the Tungusk Sector are, in truth, little different from those raised in any other sector. While they are perhaps more inured to frigid environments, and typically enjoy strong material and logistical support, they are as diverse as the armies of Humanity have been since the species first reached out for the stars. If there is one common factor within the Guard, it is that a great many of its millions-strong soldiers are drawn from the poorest in the Imperium, and that has led a great many, especially amongst the sector’s potentates, to worry as to their loyalty should the serf-bound masses ever rise up in revolution.
The Battlefleet Tungusk are an often overlooked part of every Imperial citizens’ life. They are the silent defenders of a hundred hundred worlds, drifting through the cold abyss of the void, only drawing true attention when their roar their dictums of interstellar destruction across the cold emptiness of space. But within this seemingly unified outer shell, there exists an entirely different beast beneath: the Battlefleet Tungusk is actually the Battlefleets Tungusk, and they have been locked in an ancient political struggle for four millennia as to their ultimate leadership. The Imperial Navy within the Sector is under the command of two Lord Admirals – The Lord Ducal Admiral, and the Lord Admiral Novogyr – who each vie for absolute supremacy over the total Naval might of the Tungusk Sector. Their political infighting has grown particularly poisonous over the last two centuries, and the first edges of inefficiency and dysfunction have begun to creep into the normally pinpoint precision of the Battlefleets’ deployments and combats. The Imperial Navy’s willingness to co-operate and coordinate has reached its lowest levels in the history of the Sector, and the building vitriol could not have waxed in a worse age for the dominion.
The threat of mutation is never far removed from the sacred bodies and Bodies Social of Humanity, and in this regard the Tungusk Sector is no different from any other such dominion under the God-Emperor. Mutants rise from the lower rungs of Imperial hierarchy across the many worlds of the spatial region, but they have always seemed a particularly obstinate and populous threat within the Tungusk Sector. Further to this, the teeming, disorganised masses of the malbirth insurrectionists often seem… ordered. Across planets that share no ready contact, what once seemed to be disparate attacks by the menace can occasionally resolve into wider occurrences of coincidence and serendipitous timing that build into great crescendos of damage far more devastating than the component atrocities. It is only ever whispered within the darkest corners of the halls of power, but some within the great Adeptus of Humanity wonder if this could be evidence of some vast mutant conspiracy grown malignant within the Tungusk Sector.
Mutants tolerated only for their necessity in maintaining the integrity of the Imperium, the Navis Nobilite of the Tungusk Sector have manoeuvred themselves into the usual positions of extravagant wealth and over-reaching influence that they enjoy throughout the rest of the galaxy. Even more aberrant than the norm for their strange bloodlines, Tunguskar Navigators are rarely seen, but their insidious political power within the dominion runs broader and deeper than the usual scope of their kind for two reasons: the sheer age of the Sector, and the Tovarischchaenstvo. Equipped with unnatural longevity, even amongst the enduring lives of the Nobility, Navigators are masters of long schemes and machinations: collecting secrets, marshalled favours, and manufacturing debts of economics or honour with a range only the better Noble manipulators can match. Of the Tovarischchaenstvo, little is known outside the Navis Nobilite beyond the name – for they will not discuss it with outsiders – but it appears to be some unique invention of the Tungusk Sector Novators, some ruling council or courtly body that either guides or rules over the Navis Tungusk Houses. Regardless of the specific functions it fulfills, the shadowy Tovarischchaenstvo has ensured a disproportionate share of the Sector’s influence rests with the Navis Nobilite… perhaps above any other faction but the towering Adeptus Corpus.
At once both players and pieces, the nobility of the Tungusk Sector are the fulcrum upon which its political balance, and indeed its stability, rests. The great game is one played throughout the Imperium as the wealthiest and most powerful of houses seek to claim ever greater riches and influence, and thus planets and entire systems exist in a constant cycle of prosperity and depression as their elites scheme and plot. But few noble houses can truly, sincerely claim to be anything more than proxies for the greater factions of the Corpus Imperial – the Administratum, the Ecclesiarchy, the Mechanicus and others – their fates bound to vast, ancient and laborious machinations to determine the unspoken, supreme authority in the Imperium.
With its endless political feuding and petty rivalries, the Tungusk Sector has always been a valued recruitment and training ground for the Assassin Temples. While the precise operational details of the Officio are kept sealed to all but the most powerful figures in the Imperium, it is an open secret – at least amongst the Inquisition – that they hold a not inconsiderable stake in the sector. Yet given the Officio’s emphasis on centralised organisation, and reliance upon the High Lords themselves for their orders, what has happened to its field operatives within the sector since communication was largely severed is an issue that continues to send fearful shudders through the very halls of Terra.
Psykers on the whole are hardly welcomed anywhere and the Tungusk sector is no exception on the whole. Even within the Psyker community there are some divisions. There is a fierce rivalry between the two oldest Schola in the sector, they compete to take in the finest of the sector’s Psykers, to have the reputation of the best. There are other, more specialist schola, one that train Astropaths and another that works closely with the Imperial Guard. Exactly what goes on within them is not exactly clear and the Psykers are still always outsiders, somewhat secretive and never entirely to be trusted.
The Tungusk is an ancient and storied Sector, heavy with the same rich history that only the most central dominions of the Imperium can boast. The current events of the Sector’s Crusades – the great tales of genocidal battles and daring void exploration – have long since passed into legend, and then slowly sunken into myth. They are preserved in only in divergent oral traditions, and in the dusty recountings within the oldest or most thorough of archival, cogitator data-stacks. The age of wide-eyed discovery and wonder has long since ended in the Tungusk Sector – regardless of how much of the void within its boundaries remains unexplored – and with its end, the Rogue Traders of the Tungusk Sector moved on to new regions of virgin space. All of the great and powerful Dynasties have left the dominion, and the few small bloodlines that remained have devolved into opportunistic piratical reavers so long divorced from the honour and high-standing of their founding Warrants that they have forgotten their noble birth rights. They linger now only as a menace to the Tungusk Sector’s mercantile Warp routes, and its myriad isolated systems.
While certain Xenos species have achieved a truly Galactic presence – the ubiquitous Orks and the insidious Eldar, to name but two – the Imperium must contend with an endless procession of regional species that, while lacking the existential threat others pose, nevertheless remain a danger to a sector’s integrity. The Tungusk Sector has more than its share of such species, arguably foremost among them the Yagai: prone to long periods of hibernation, awakening when the sector is weakened to slaughter with a seemingly indiscriminate agenda. But while the Yagai occupy a nightmare spot in the sector’s collective unconscious, there are stranger and poorer understood creatures that plague the sector as well. What unites these nebulous threats is a recurring air of madness to each of them, leading some to suspect – nay, fear – a precipitating event far in the sector’s past that shattered the sanity of its native denizens.