Despite its precarious position in orbit around a doomed star, Nexum's prisons have now been occupied for centuries. In this time, it has built up a small enclosed community of Enforcers and guards who have come to regard this virtually uninhabitable hellhole as their home. Generations of these prison guards, who bear the chained-sun emblem of their craft and go by the self-appointed title “Turnkeys,” have now lived and died on the world, knowing nothing other than the harsh glare of Medea and the drudgery of penitentiary life. Many roles within the prison system have now become entirely hereditary, passed from father to son to grandson in turn. While many have been brutalised by their role, or tainted by the peculiar Warp conditions of Nexum’s stellar environs, others are devoted family men and women, content to carry out their duties to the best of their ability, ever watchful for the assault of a snake-crazed inmate, the intermittent klaxons signifying an imminent plasma storm, or, even worse, the constant klaxon heralding evacuation of key personnel and equipment in the face of Medea’s final death throes.