Editing Nobledark Imperium Member States (section)

== Savlar ==
''"Savlar: Because Fuck You, That's Why"''<br>
— Inscribed above the door to Savlar spaceport, on a corrosion resistant glass slab

Savlar is, in the words of any locals who would care to waste oxygen describing the planet, a shit hole that runs on spite. Food grown there is poisonous and can only be consumed in careful combination, such that the various toxins cancel each other out. The air is laced with deadly chemicals and the weather patterns are capricious at best across most of the surface, thus making prediction of and preparation for any large movements of the planet's toxic atmospheric gases all but impossible. The water is unsafe to drink for all but the hardiest of constitutions — and must first be filtered even for them.

All in all, nobody should ever go to Savlar. Life is short, dangerous and unpleasant, much like the people that call it home — or at least a Savlar curse word that is equivalent to home. Savlar has a lot of curses, all forms of wishing natural hazards upon the recipient in a multitude of lewd and profane ways.

The only reason that the planet has any value at all to the Imperium is because of the mystical substance known as neutronium, which is produced on the accursed planet. It is not actual "neutronium", in the astrophysical "atoms of pure neutrons" sense, but is rather something that the lay-person calls neutronium due to it possibly being non-baryonic matter. Importantly, it is the key ingredient in the orbital tethers. Even more importantly, it is produced nowhere else in the galaxy. 

There are only two methods in the galaxy that the Imperium can reliably acquire neutronium. One is by salvaging and repurposing neutronium from Dark Age constructions — mostly orbital tethers, but occasionally the carcasses of Dark Age starships and other creations may also carry some. The problem with this first method is that this neutronium is obviously limited in supply — there are many planets with orbital rings that were once homes to thriving human populations that are now blasted wastelands, but it is impossible to dismantle something like the Daisy Chain of Earth or the [[Nobledark_Imperium_Notable_Planets#Medusa|Telstarax of Medusa]] for usage elsewhere. The other way is Savlar. Savlar neutronium contains many more impurities, and is much weaker compared to the neutronium produced by humanity during the Dark Age of Technology — akin to comparing low-quality iron ore to Damascus steel — but it is neutronium nonetheless.

Savlar has no native life forms, and when man first set foot on it had almost no atmosphere. The atmosphere is has now is a side effect of the old industries set up by the human colonists. That it turned out breathable, if barely, was just a coincidence. Savlar is now home to an ecosystem made up of extremophile and borderline extremophile life forms of the sort typically found growing next to volcanoes on less awful worlds.

The current, hideous environment of the planet is a result of the neutronium manufacturing. In the old days of the Golden Age, the chemical runoff was contained for processing in various facilities across the planet as the world around the facilities was slowly terraformed. When the Old Night rolled in the tanks were breached, the processing facilities destroyed, and all but one of the factories burned to the ground. This released the noxious chemical cocktail of an ecosystem that Savlar is known for.

The natives of Savlar are descendants of the workers who used to run the facilities — and who subsequently got stranded in those facilities for millenia. Genetically they are more or less pure human, but like Fenrisians there are very minor deviations from the baseline. Savlar natives can handle drugs and toxic substances far better than most people. Biological and cybernetic modifications to help deal with the environment are common on Savlar, and in the regiments raised there.

The Neutronium Workshop currently operates at a mere 5% of its original estimated output, and is tended to by a peculiar and closed order of tech-adepts, referred to as the Savlar Order, whom are descendants of the maintenance teams and factory workers that once operated the Workshop in the Golden Age. The Savlar Order is very much a closed order; they don't let anyone in, nobody leaves, they don't concern themselves with things beyond their gates, and they call no outside authority master. They make neutronium and cybernetic trinkets, which they exchange for stuff. That's how they like it and that is the extent of how the arrangement would have, could have, and should have been. But then the Olympus Mons brotherhood got involved and nearly ruined everything for everyone.

All technological wonders of humanity belong to the Mechanicum, or so the Martian orthodoxy goes. The Savlar Order tended the last neutronium workshop. They were human, the workshop was a human creation, and therefore they must submit to the rule of Mars. They sent the Savlar Order a letter, politely worded, to that effect. Savlar sent a letter back telling them in no uncertain terms that they would not submit to outsiders — whilst also called into question the parentage of the Mars Council and accusing the Fabricator General of sexual deviation.

A second, much more strongly worded, letter was written by the Mechanicum — and delivered by none other than Ferrus Manus himself, in all his brutal glory. This time the Mechanicum did not ask but demanded total obeisance from the Savlar, accompanied with a declaration that refusal would have the Savlar face the might of the entire Skitarii army. The Savlar Order responded with a crudely stenciled image of a Magos bent forwards and being anally penetrated by an anthropomorphic Aquila. The substance used to make the offending image was discovered to be fecal matter, apparently applied by aerosol.

The Steward stepped in before the situation could escalate any further. Savlar was elevated to the status of Survivor Civilization — a status it did not deserve by a long way, as its new status meant it was to be counted alongside The Interex and Ultramar in legal standing. As an allied Survivor Civilization, Savlar now had all the authority they needed to officially tell the Olympus Mons Brotherhood to go fuck themselves. Which they did.

By this point it was well-known that the Savlar Order were more than prepared to destroy all that they held dear rather than let it fall into Mars' hands — Mars had gotten into a contest of spite with Savlar and they were fools to do so. The Mechanicus could have retaliated; banned all their trade to Savlar and blacklisted anyone who did so. They also could have slit their own throats and gurgled the theme song to Aspects of Steel with the resulting blood — it would have achieved much the same effect. 

One of the ways that the Savlar Order has spent the better part of 10,000 years infuriating Mars is through the baffling tradition of The Great Savlar Scavenger Hunt. Once their stockpile of neutronium is filled, a list of items is placed on the outer gate of The Workshop. The list invariably contains a great many varieties of a great many things, some of them quite strange. Partly, this is almost certainly to prevent the Mars priesthood from deciphering the needed raw materials, though some of the items are obviously for personal use — the list will invariably contain food and fresh water somewhere. Everything is listed with exact amounts, in native Savlar measurements, and everything must be presented exactly as listed. ''Exactly. As. Listed.'' If they ask for a very specific amount of Valhallan Brandy in a specific number of arsenic bronze containers then you bring that, no more and no less. Deviation from the list is not permitted, and any such deviation means the offending contestant is instantly disqualified. The first one back with the entire list ticked off to the Order's satisfaction gets the entire stock heap, to divvy up and sell on as they see fit. 

The scavenger hunt infuriates Mars, as it puts them on equal footing to common traders and the like. There is no discernable pattern to the demands, and it is a constant point of discord in their filing system. Creatures of order as they are, this likewise infuriates the Mechanicus Scribes to no end. And that is almost certainly why the Savlar Order do it. Because fuck you, that's why.

Beyond this, very little of the Order is known. Investigations have been requested and refused. The Inquisition could push the issue, but it's not worth the risk.

Society outside of the walls of the Workshop consists mostly of an agrarian existence slightly above subsistence farming, with the very little surplus left over used to support Savlar's urban structures. Society — civilization is pushing it a little too far — tends to be tribe-based and ruled by tribal elders — or those who have opted to stay sober for a while.

The local religion consists of a plethora of small gods, though the Savlar would claim that they are too small to be gods. Typically, these gods can only be interacted with after taking something mind-altering, but there is too much consistency between the hallucinations for them to be merely the imaginary things typically seen in psychoactive drug trips. There have been investigations by both the Arbites and the Inquisition, but nothing exists that can prove or disprove — all that they can say is that there is no notable Chaos corruption.

Indeed not. Chaos offers hope, but the Savlar have given up on great hopes. Chaos offers comfort in despair, but the Savlar never really feel too much despair. They don't feel much anger at things, and merely accept the shit. They don't revel in the fumes or seek much excess. If their small gods of the æther are daemons, they are doing a terrible job. The most commonly reported advice that these small gods offer is exhortations to ease up on the LSD wine — a distinctly un-Chaos thing to suggest.

One more or less consistent belief among the tribes, and it can be inferred to have originated in The Workshop, is the Great Machine. It follows that the Omnissiah is the underlying mechanisms of the universe, the Ultimate Machine, but that it's obvious that the universe is broken. Therefore, god is broken and man must increase in wisdom to find a way of fixing it. Once fixed, the universe will work right. It is known as the Faith of the Broken God. This belief is considered '''HOLY SHIT''' levels of heresy within the Mechnicus orthodoxy, but the Martian Priesthood never quite gets as far as declaring the Savlar Order as such. Because neutronium.

Drugs are about the only thing that make life on Savlar tolerable. They will surely reduce your life time, certainly, but on Savlar you're probably going to be dead by age 45, snorting Rainbow Dust or not, so it's not really the issue it would be on a less fuck awful planet. 

Besides neutronium, the planet's only other notable exports are soldiers and recreational drugs. The Savlar soldiery are a motley band composed mostly of addicts (usually recruits) and former addicts (usually veterans).