Editing Nobledark Imperium Imperial Society and Culture (section)

== The Iron Storm ==

Eldar are typically regarded as snooty, straight-laced, and prim sorts. The archetypal interaction between Eldar and human (at least in the minds of humans that have never met Eldar) is the idea of the naive, if psychically potent, craftworlder meeting the rough-and-tumble, world-wise human. Hijinks ensue, misunderstandings are overcome, the human learns to appreciate the finer things, and the Eldar learns to relax and stop being so stuck up. 

Any particularly enamored with this popular myth are due for a terrible shock if they ever meet the Eldar of [[Nobledark_Imperium_Notable Planets#Saim-Hann|Saim-Hann]]. Wild, aggressive, and barely civilized, the only commonality with the popular conception of Eldar is arrogance. But it is not the quiet kind of arrogance that looks down its nose at you for choosing the wrong fork at a dinner table. Rather, this is an arrogance typical of the elite that have earned their position by risking death and coming away (mostly) unscathed. Saim-Hann seem to have a contempt for death that unsettles their peers among the craftworld Eldar. Every generation since the rescue of Isha burns with jealousy at their honored forebears that had the chance to raid Nurgle's Garden, and wish for a chance to prove their worth with glorious deeds.

Saim-Hann Eldar don't particularly respect humans — then again, they don't particularly respect anyone. In a way it is almost egalitarian, as they do their best to insult everyone — if you can withstand the constant barrage of verbal abuse, you will find that they are, mostly, well-meaning if the situation calls for it. Getting mocked mercilessly as you bleed out by the Saim-Hann warrior attempting to rescue you is an experience that few forget. And they don't spare their own kind; a Saim-Hann warrior that wrecks his jetbike in a dangerous turn can look forward to years, perhaps decades, of torment from his fellows.

Perhaps this, more than the sense of adventure, explains why there are so many Saim-Hann that forsake their craftworld to join the ranks of the Path of the Outcast or the Disciples of Kurnous.

But for those respected by the Saim-Hann, there are few better friends. Though most famously expressed by their aggressive kinship with Leman Russ's get, there are many such examples of Saim-Hann friendships forged in the heat of battle or competition. This is one of the few begrudging virtues craftworld Eldar can grant the Saim-Hann: they are not sore losers. As long as the competition is fair (or rarely, if the cheating was particularly novel or brazen) Saim-Hann shall celebrate winners. 

Which explains their love of racing. Though other craftworlds lost their traditions of racing from the Fall of the Eldar in light of the scourge of Slaanesh, Saim-Hann — in their typical contempt of death — embraced it and kept the traditions alive. From foot races through the deserted and dangerous lost webway cities, to roaring races on jetbikes across the whole of the craftworld with no concessions for traffic, even to their own star vessels between battles seeking to round a system on a single solar wind, the Saim-Hann have made an art of the race. The only thing better for Saim-Hann warriors than victory in the race is victory in battle, and they are short of neither. 

And yet, there is one competition that young Saim-Hann might dream of more than battle. The infrequent Saim-Hann tradition of "the Iron Storm" — an inadequate and literal translation from the Eldar language into primitive Gothic. The Administratum, forced to keep track of it to properly record the damages and fatalities, have classified it under the relatively benign name of "The Saim-Hann Transgalactic Webway Race." Survivors call it "the Suicide Ride". Saim-Hann call it a good time.

The details of the race itself are sketchy — the last time an "Iron Storm" race was invoked was three hundred years ago, and each race is far from uniform — however there is a rough idea of how it is supposed to go. Rumor has it, when the auspices are right and a hero must be chosen (or, the more cynical theorize, when Saim-Hann scrapes together enough bribes to make the famously fickle and jaded followers of the Laughing God cooperate), the Harlequins shall send invitations to the most worthy and most daring to engage in a race. All participants must provide their own vehicle, but the definition of "vehicle" is open for the individual participant's determination. At one point, historical records detail a particularly flamboyant Eldar corsair bringing a Void Stalker battleship to the race — he fared poorly at the terrestrial checkpoints, but he got points for style. More than that, though, is the fact that this race is open to everyone. This includes other craftworlds, humans, Space Marines, Tau, Ork Speed Freeks, Dark Eldar kabalites, even rarely those tainted by Chaos, and at one point there was confusion if the genestealer cult that had taken over an Imperial light cruiser that drifted into the starting line counted as a participant (the situation resolved itself tidily with them self-destructing).

Saim-Hann runs the race with the assistance of the Harlequins, having it start at their personal webway portal "The Serpent's Mouth". Tragedy once marred their competition as an attack from Crone World Eldar once took advantage of their relaxed state at the start of the race and caused horrific damage. Saim-Hann did not stop their practice of the Iron Storm, but now they arrange a formidable security net before the gathering. Any that try to take advantage of the festivities to attack the Saim-Hann earn themselves a terrible enemy for the rest of their very short lives.

A season long celebration opens the festivities as racers of appropriate caliber are gathered. Unlike other races held by Saim-Hann, where invitations are hard to gain, Iron Storm races are quite open. Half of the participants are chosen by Saim-Hann, and the other half are chosen by the Harlequins who make the entire thing possible. The only qualification is that the racers are skilled. This can lead to quite a collection of species: Orkish Speed Freeks, Dark Eldar Kabalites, Kroot maniacs, Demiurge engineers, increasingly uncomfortable humans, and — rumor has it other — darker sorts can all be found in the collection. For the time being, the racers find themselves in the middle of a celebration solely for their sake, rubbing shoulders and avoiding sabotage. 

As this occurs, troupes of Harlequins roam the webway, placing observers and checkpoints inside the webway and outside. They pray to Cegorach, invoke the Cosmic Serpent, and on occasion duck bullets as inevitably the guidance of the gods lead them to set the route through some of the most dangerous places in the galaxy; warzones, the event horizons of black holes, through a tyranid swarm fleet, scraping along the Eye of Terror. It is designed to be a remarkably lethal affair. Oftentimes, throughout the history of Saim-Hann, there are no winners of the race as every competitor had lost their lives. 

For some, the race is a chance at prestige; the ultimate test to have one's name in a select list of immortal names that shall ring through history. However, most that accept the invitation do so with the promise of the prize — almost always unique, and priceless beyond mortal comprehension. The previous race was rumored to have a day within the famed and mysterious Black Library of the Eldar as a prize, claimed by Ahriman of the Thousand Sons. Though he has not yet re-emerged into the public eye, people are confident he's still alive — a day is a matter of debate when it comes to the webway and the warp.