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The name "Rusthammer" became public around fifty years ago, after a caravan in spring 1040 rescued Pioneer survivors who described how a band of about a hundred people in ragged clothing attacked their convoy, burned supplies and the Columbian flag, and left only five survivors to tell the tale. The attackers called themselves Rusthammer. Authorities initially treated it as ordinary robbery or sabotage, but after a series of incidents they paid attention. In 1042 alone there were fifty-two major incidents; victims typically had official associations or were big businesses, while average travelers were rarely targeted. Rusthammer operations were organized—multiple ambush points, tailored tactics—and members plundered supplies, burned flags, destroyed symbols, and left survivors terrified. They called themselves "conquerors of the wasteland" and "avengers of civilization," directing hatred not at individuals but at the organizations victims represented. Their structure is haphazard, groups sharing only names, raid methods, and position; they oppose civilization itself and advocate a "return" to Terra's wastelands, viewing nomadic cities as civilization's ultimate symbol. Impostors exist—over half of 1092's claimed attacks—yet genuine groups grow exponentially, making Rusthammer a major international security issue endangering wasteland routes and trade.
The author, helped by bodyguard Kordaz, met an expert called Cannot in Trimounts, who suggested Rusthammer acts out of anger and disappointment: under modern civilization, symbolized by nomadic cities, life has lost the meaning of life.
Little is known about the organization Rusthammer—its mission, founders, membership, or where it operates. Only one thing is clear: they are very dangerous, as a Columbian Pioneer's handbook puts it.
The name entered public awareness in spring 1040, when a caravan rescued several weak, exhausted, delirious Pioneers traveling toward western Columbia. At the nearest nomadic city, the survivors told the authorities that their convoy had been stopped by around a hundred people in ragged clothing. Thinking they were ordinary bandits who could be bought off, the team leader alighted to negotiate, but the crowd suddenly attacked, burning the convoy's supplies and Columbian flag. The convoy was wiped out; five survivors were intentionally left alive to tell the tale by the attackers, who called themselves Rusthammer. Lacking evidence or leads, the authorities treated it as just another robbery-murder or possible sabotage by a rival Pioneer team. When a series of Rusthammer incidents followed, they began paying attention.
At first Rusthammer seemed to be mere bandits—their habit of leaving survivors no different from gangs—but this proved premature. In 1042 there were fifty-two major incidents. Most victims had some official association and carried their country's flag, from Pioneer teams to federal convoys; big businesses were also targeted, while the average traveler rarely encountered them. Survivor statements describe operations far more organized than ordinary banditry: multiple ambush points, tactics tailored to targets, and purposeful action. Rusthammer plunders supplies, burns flags, destroys symbols of nations or organizations, and leaves only after ensuring they have inflicted terror on survivors.
During attacks, members claim to be "conquerors of the wasteland" and "avengers of civilization," but their true intentions remain unknown. Witnesses describe war cries filled with hatred, yet with the impression that the hatred targets the organizations victims represented, not the individuals. In contrast to their well-prepared operations, their organizational structure is virtually nonexistent. Over fifty years, Rusthammer activities have been reported across Terra in small groups with wildly contrasting ways of operating, sharing only their names, raid methods, and position. Their vengeance is against civilization itself and its products; they advocate a "return" to Terra's wastelands. Reports from Columbia and Kazimierz indicate they consider nomadic cities—the most significant man-made objects on Terra—the ultimate symbol of civilization, and many organizations warn of potential attacks on nomadic cities near areas where they operate.
Unrelated bandits have begun impersonating Rusthammer. In 1092 there were more than two hundred and fifty attacks in Columbia, Kazimierz and Victoria where attackers claimed Rusthammer association; more than half were impostors. Even excluding these, legitimate Rusthammer groups grow exponentially, as bandits flock to their anti-civilization banner—yet nothing is known of why or where the banner was first flown. Rusthammer is now a major international security issue in the no-man's land around Columbia, Ursus, and Kazimierz; wasteland routes are increasingly dangerous, and international trade even more difficult.
The author's attempts at field research in Columbia failed: Rusthammer members declined interviews and asked him to leave their camp politely. His Sarkaz bodyguard and driver, Kordaz, then introduced him to a civilian expert. Meeting in a Trimounts shop, this massive man wearing a bucket on his head introduced himself as Cannot, or Mr. Goodenough. He told stories of Rusthammer "good deeds"—sparing the poor, sabotaging Columbia's reckless mining plans that might have caused sinkholes or earthquakes—painting them as outlaw heroes like Kazimierz's knights-errant. Asked why Rusthammer resists "civilization" so extremely, Cannot answered that they are disappointed, or angry. City dwellers take skyscrapers, supermarkets, public transport, running water, and sewage for granted; young people even believe carrots and fowlbeast meat grow in supermarkets. In his view, none of this means anything: life has lost the meaning of life under modern civilization symbolized by the nomadic cities. The author understood him as saying that rules and systems invented to improve life pile up and become complicated, becoming problems themselves—Cannot agreed but would not discuss it further. Shaking his hand in farewell, the author sensed a great strength, one belonging to life itself.
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Rusthammer is a most mysterious organization. From Columbia to Kazimierz, national governments brand it a terrorist organization; corporations such as Blacksteel Worldwide, Raythean Industries and Volvort Kochinski denounce their attacks, and many operations have been conducted to counter it. Little concrete is known about this loosely organized band that operates in the wastelands. Discussions about Rusthammer have focused exclusively on their dangers, never on where they come from, and why they have caused such tragedies. While in Columbia, I paid a visit to a Rusthammer hideout in the wastelands, hoping to hear Rusthammer's story from their own mouths. This section is divided into two parts: the first part, an overview of Rusthammer based on public reports on the organizations from various countries; the second, my personal experiences with Rusthammer members and researchers.
Little is known about the organization known as Rusthammer, its mission, when it was founded, who founded it, how many members it has, and where they operate. Only one thing is clear: they are very dangerous.
- A Columbian Pioneer's Handbook: Fifty Facts About the Wasteland
The name "Rusthammer" was introduced to the public some fifty years ago. In spring 1040, a caravan traveling between nomadic cities rescued several Pioneers stumbling in the wastelands while traveling towards western Columbia. They were weak and exhausted, and in various states of delirium. Several days later, the caravan arrived at the nearest nomadic city, and the Pioneer survivors told the following story to the authorities: The Pioneers' convoy were stopped by about a band of people in ragged clothing, numbering around a hundred. At first, the Pioneers thought they were normal bandits, who could usually be bought off for a reasonable amount of money. As the team leader alighted his
A rusted iron hammer. The more connotations it carries, the further Rusthammer has strayed from its roots.
vehicle to negotiate, however, the crowd suddenly started attacking, burning the convoy's supplies and Columbian flag. The entire convoy was wiped out, leaving behind only five survivors whom the attackers, who called themselves Rusthammer, had intentionally left alive to tell the tale. Lacking in evidence or leads, the authorities treated this as just another robbery-murder, the kind that occurs so often on the wastelands, or perhaps hired by another Pioneer team as an act of sabotage. When a series of incidents associated with Rusthammer followed, however, the authorities began to pay attention.
At first, Rusthammer was thought to be little more than a group of bandits, their habit of leaving survivors to tell the tale no different from how gangs do the same, but this conclusion soon proved premature. There were fifty-two major incidents associated with Rusthammer in 1042. Most victims had some kind of official association and carried the flag of their country, ranging from Pioneer teams to federal convoys. Big businesses were also targeted by Rusthammer, whereas encounters were virtually unknown for the average traveler. According to survivor statements, Rusthammer operations are much more organized than ordinary bandits; they set multiple ambush points, employ tactics tailored for their targets, and acted with purpose. Rusthammer plunders supplies, burns flags and destroys symbols representing nations or organizations, and only leave after making sure that they have left a deep impression and inflicted terror upon the survivors.
During their attacks, Rusthammer members often claim to be the "conquerors of the wasteland" and "avengers of civilization", but the true intentions of their actions remain unknown. Witnesses often express confusion about this, and while most of them described Rusthammer war cries as filled with hatred, there is also a general impression that the hatred is not directed towards the individuals being attacked, but the organizations that the victims represented. In contrast to their well-prepared operations, the organization structure of Rusthammer is so haphazard as to be virtually nonexistent. Rusthammer activities have been reported in various regions of Terra for the past fifty years. They seem to lack any sort of coherent plan, operating in small groups that can have wildly contrasting way of doing things, with only a few common basic traits: their names, the method of their raids, and their position. Rusthammer's vengeance is against civilization itself, and the products of civilization; they advocate for a "return" to Terra's wastelands. The most common example of what they consider to be civilization are convoys that belong to nations and large organizations, but reports from Columbia and Kazimierz indicate that Rusthammer considers nomadic cities, the most significant man-made objects on Terra, to be the ultimate symbol of civilization. Many organizations have warned against potential attacks against nomadic cities near areas where Rusthammer is known to operate.
Unrelated bandit groups have also began to impersonate Rusthammer in their attacks. In 1092, there were more than two hundred and fifty attacks in Columbia, Kazimierz and Victoria where the attackers claimed to be associated with Rusthammer. Further investigation reveals that more than half of them were by impostors. Even excluding impostors, however, the number of legitimate Rusthammer-associated groups continues to grow exponentially. More and more bandits are flocking to Rusthammer's anti-civilization banner, yet we know nothing of why and where the banner was first flown. Rusthammer
is becoming an increasingly apparent threat in the no-mans land around Columbia, Ursus, and Kazimierz. Today, Rusthammer has become a major international security issue. Routes through the wastelands are becoming increasingly dangerous, and international trade, already costly to begin with, is now even more difficult.
In Columbia, I took the risk of reaching out to some Rusthammer members, but none seemed interested in giving an interview. I was asked to leave their camp – politely, I should add – but my research finally made headway when my Sarkaz bodyguard and driver, Kordaz, introduced me to a civilian expert, from whom I learned much about Rusthammer. Per the interviewee's request that his statements not be presented as serious academic research, I have recorded it below in the form of my travel notes.
The wastelands in southwest Columbia seemed more barren than most. The sun shone bright in the azure sky, but there was also a coldness to it that seemed out of place in this season. The ground outside the settlement's barbed wires were covered in grey gravel. Brown dirt extended as far as the eye could see. The closest nomadic city was La Unidad, under the control of Bolivarian Coalition Government. Kordaz, my bodyguard and driver, was taking a well-deserved break after a three-day drive from the nearest Pioneer platform.
It was a small settlement, and I glanced inside the barbed wire barricade as I walked past. Tents built from haphazardly cut pieces of tarp littered the camp, looking almost as though they had grown from the ground. They stood amongst scattered bushes of the same color, giving the place a strange sense of harmony. There were no other buildings. Several large, old trucks were parked outside, probably several decades-old. I heard someone call out to me while I was looking for an entrance to the camp.
I looked to the source of the sound. It was a tall Reproba woman, about 30 years of age, dressed in faded, dusty overalls, and smelling of alcohol. She asked me in Sargonian what I was doing there. I answered, in the same language, that I wanted to learn more about Rusthammer. She stared at me for a moment, then led me to a tent outside the camp.
The furnishings were sparse: nothing but an old camp bed, a foldable camp table, a couple of chairs, and a solar-powered lamp. She gestured for me to sit down and asked me what I wanted to know. As was my policy, I explained to her that I wanted to interview her so that people like me could learn more about Rusthammer. Her statements would be used for the purpose of my research, but I could not guarantee that these materials would not
be requisitioned by the authorities. As I expected, she was not happy about what she heard, a scene that I was all too familiar with from my field studies. I had my principles, however, and informed consent was one of them. After I was kicked out of the tent, I tried to interview a few others, but the result was more of the same.
After a couple of fruitless hours, I was asked to leave, bringing my visit to a disappointing conclusion. As I resigned myself to leaving empty-handed, Kordaz told me he suddenly recalled that he knew an expert on Rusthammer who might be able to help me. He soon came to regret his inspiration, for it meant another three-day drive back to the nomadic city.
Two weeks later, we met with this expert in a Trimounts shop, an establishment that sees its fair share of shady characters. He was a massive man who wore a bucket on his head. He greeted us in a most friendly and familiar manner. “Good morning, good afternoon, and good evening, my friend. You can call me Cannot, or Mr. Goodenough should you prefer that instead.”
Needless to say, I was suspicious at first, not least because of the ludicrous pseudonym, but as we continued our conversation, my opinion of him quickly became quite a bit more than good enough. After hearing a number of stories about Rusthammer from a different perspective, I decided to ask a more pointed question.
“You talked about a good deal of ‘good things’ that Rusthammer has done, such as sparing the poor, and sabotaging Columbia’s reckless mining plans, which might have caused sinkholes or earthquakes. You paint the picture of outlaw heroes, similar to the knights-errant of Kazimierz, the chivalrous swordsmen of Yan, or the vigilantes of Victoria. Forgive my frankness, but at times you sound more like a Rusthammer sympathizer than a Rusthammer researcher. This stories fail to answer a fundamental question: Why has Rusthammer chosen to resist the ambiguous concept of ‘civilization’ in such extreme ways?”
Cannot crossed his arms and mulled the question for a while before answering, “They’re disappointed with this place—or should I say, angry.” Rocking his metal bucket of a head, he gestured towards the window, a sight of office buildings lining the sides of wide, paved streets. “The people who live in nomadic cities take things like skyscrapers, supermarkets, public transport, the intercity net, personal terminals, running tap water, and sewage systems for granted. Young folk these days even believe that carrots and fowlbeast meat are grown in supermarkets, box and all. Do you think I’m joking? I wish I was. I spent a long time in the cities, a very long time, and I’ve seen a lot of sad things. Do you know what the saddest thing is, though?”
I shook my head.
“None of this means anything. What meaning is there, to live in this faux prosperity? Life has lost the meaning of life under modern civilization, symbolized by the nomadic cities.” As he looked up, the sunlight reflecting off the windows of the office building opposite the street shone upon his bucket, lighting up the specks of dust that drifted in the air.
We talked about modern civilization. I understood his viewpoint as saying that we had invented rules and systems in order to improve our lives and solve
our problems, but these rules and systems pile up and become increasingly complicated, becoming a problem themselves. He agreed with this view, but refrained from discussing this topic any further. We talked about other things, until the sky had grown dark.
“You are a wise man, and a gentleman. This has been a most fruitful conversation,” he said as we bid farewell. I shook the hand that he extended, and sensed a great strength, one that belonged to life itself.