Planner's Rebellion

The Planner’s Rebellion refers to an event in 899 AC, approximately three weeks before the event that became known as the Wake.

Not a true rebellion in any real sense of the word, the name “Planner’s Rebellion” was coined by then Captain Albetson Foegard during the investigation in the aftermath of the Wake. The term “Planner” is used colloquially in Hastur to refer to any worker responsible for the improvement and upkeep of the city, including engineers, masons, and quarrymen.

Since those particular groups were those primary involved in the unsanctioned city works project, the “rebellion” was named for them.

The suns are setting on this city, that’s for sure. Tucked away here on the edge of Lake Hali, we managed just fine on our own for centuries. Then the Wake hit.

You see, when Hastur was founded, we settled in nice and safe right here on the lake shore. But eventually… we realized the lake wasn’t content to stay where it was. It was creeping higher and higher, year after year. Sure, only a fraction of an inch at a time, but when you’re dealing in centuries, that adds up. So we built the levee. That kept us safe for a long time.

But the water started coming faster. A lot faster.

It wasn’t long before we Engineers realized something had to be done or the city was going to drown. We pleaded with the Council for funds and workers but they refused, dismissing our warnings as nothing more than fear-mongering. For nearly two years, we begged them to listen, showed them all our evidence, and still they ignored us.

“Fine,” we said. “Council isn’t going to do its job? We’ll do it our gods damned selves.” We drew up plans, organized work crews, even got the masons and quarrymen on board. We figured the city had six months left if the water kept on coming at the same rate. The project was going to take us five. It was gonna be cutting it close but we knew we could get it done – knew we had to.

Well, you can probably guess that didn’t happen.

You see, by that point, the Council wasn’t even pretending to be the voice of the people. Two decades earlier, when I was just a boy, we thought we traded in the king for a government that cared about us. Turns out, all we got were twenty kings instead of one. And they sure as hell didn’t take kindly to their authority being challenged.

So, four and a half months in, and it’s the most crucial part of the build. What’s the Council do? They send in the gods damn Macedene, that’s what. I don’t know what I expected when I saw them marching down Abbey… maybe the Council had wised up and sent the Guard down to help us out? Well whatever I was hoping, it sure as hell didn’t happen.

They spread out along the levee, blades drawn, staring us down. Then, Captain Albetson gods damn Foegard (yeah, that Albetson Foegard) climbs his ass up onto the levee wall and commands us to cease all work disperse at once. “Like hell,” we tell him. We knew the city was finished if we didn’t keep on. He tells us again but I expect he knew we wouldn’t sway… he didn’t even bother giving us a chance.

Before, we could react, they were on us. At first, they just knocked us around, tried to scare us off. Then one of ours stuck a knife in one of theirs. That’s all it took for the slaughter to start.

We tried to fight at first, but warriors we weren’t. It wasn’t long before we scattered. I can’t really tell you how many of us they killed that day but I can tell you there sure as hell weren’t enough of us left to finish the work, even if they would let us.

Three weeks later, the storm hit.

The water came like a wall… it surged over and through our unfinished levee then rushed into the city. It washed away the poor and proletariat alike, sinking the Lower City under the waves. The farmlands that fed the city since the days of Dormund the Scavenger were drowned beneath [[Lake Hali’s]] waters. Homes, businesses, temples… anything and anyone unfortunate enough to be in the Lower City were lost. Hell, even the Middle City didn’t go untouched.

Eventually, the Council and their sycophants sent assistance, but by then it was a clean up job – not a rescue effort.

It’s been near forty years since that day and the city still hasn’t recovered. The water is still inching higher and higher, but at least it seems content to take its time now. The Lower City is still there, under the wake, and if you’re willing to take a few risks (and know where to look) you can even make a pretty penny doing salvage work.

- Garver Hanlen, former engineer

Planner's Rebellion

In the Wake Riobard Riobard