In MTU the empire is nowhere near terra and the timeline is stretched out a bit due to internecine conflict around terra and the first few colony worlds. One of the colonies encountered a seemingly intelligent race of large spider types. However over the three hundred years it took mankind to reconnect with this outlying colony the spiders were eradicated. This is all noted in my timeline leading from present day to 2942 (setting year) but the players have not encountered anything like this... until last week.
Last week they arrived at a way station they had visited before but things were amiss. The power was off to most of the station and it seemed to be deserted. Until they reached the commercial area; where the power was on and people were here, some alive and some appeared dead or asleep. All floating in zero G.
When they went to the command deck of the station they were attacked by spiders. One of the older characters passed an education roll and recognised them as similar to a specimen of the spiders thought extinct. They managed to withdraw back to the airlock and escape on their ship (400t smuggler). But as they pulled away from the station a large contact (1500-2000t) appeared at 100k and transmitted the following, which im calling Weavers LamentThis will be in code using grantz alien font from dafont.
Weavers Lament
Into the sky our towers stretched a marvel of creation,
peacefully our young slept, and every day an elation.
Until our world was torn asunder, fire raining from the sky,
we buried ourselves in our towers afraid that we would die.
But death did not come for us as quickly as knives;
it came for us slowly, taking our children and our wives.
We were hunters at the top of the chain,
but soon our dominance would begin to wane.
At first they watched and studied, tall pink arrogant,
our elders would broach no argument.
We would remain silent and they would leave,
we went back to work and continued to weave.
The cold bite of winter set in, our watchers were gone,
the elders were proud of the decision to carry on.
Before the warmth could return to the land,
the watchers returned, with weapon in hand.
At first we thought we had angered them somehow,
but investigation told us they had no food or fields to plough.
They had come to hunt us and fill their larder;
year on year survival became harder.
Eventually our elders relented, we would break our silence,
but this plan backfired, and with our voices raised it only brought violence.
The hunters knew a mistake had been made and guilt was in place,
killing continued for hundreds of seasons, at the hands of this unknown race.
Our numbers dwindled to an unsustainable level, our time was done,
a second rain of fire, a harbinger of things to come.
The killing stopped and we let out a sigh,
for it was too late the last of us would die.
Before death takes me I travel to the vaults,
buried deep inside a canyon, nestled between the faults.
A message to our kin sent out across the stars,
bring us vengeance and leave nothing but char.
Last week they arrived at a way station they had visited before but things were amiss. The power was off to most of the station and it seemed to be deserted. Until they reached the commercial area; where the power was on and people were here, some alive and some appeared dead or asleep. All floating in zero G.
When they went to the command deck of the station they were attacked by spiders. One of the older characters passed an education roll and recognised them as similar to a specimen of the spiders thought extinct. They managed to withdraw back to the airlock and escape on their ship (400t smuggler). But as they pulled away from the station a large contact (1500-2000t) appeared at 100k and transmitted the following, which im calling Weavers LamentThis will be in code using grantz alien font from dafont.
Weavers Lament
Into the sky our towers stretched a marvel of creation,
peacefully our young slept, and every day an elation.
Until our world was torn asunder, fire raining from the sky,
we buried ourselves in our towers afraid that we would die.
But death did not come for us as quickly as knives;
it came for us slowly, taking our children and our wives.
We were hunters at the top of the chain,
but soon our dominance would begin to wane.
At first they watched and studied, tall pink arrogant,
our elders would broach no argument.
We would remain silent and they would leave,
we went back to work and continued to weave.
The cold bite of winter set in, our watchers were gone,
the elders were proud of the decision to carry on.
Before the warmth could return to the land,
the watchers returned, with weapon in hand.
At first we thought we had angered them somehow,
but investigation told us they had no food or fields to plough.
They had come to hunt us and fill their larder;
year on year survival became harder.
Eventually our elders relented, we would break our silence,
but this plan backfired, and with our voices raised it only brought violence.
The hunters knew a mistake had been made and guilt was in place,
killing continued for hundreds of seasons, at the hands of this unknown race.
Our numbers dwindled to an unsustainable level, our time was done,
a second rain of fire, a harbinger of things to come.
The killing stopped and we let out a sigh,
for it was too late the last of us would die.
Before death takes me I travel to the vaults,
buried deep inside a canyon, nestled between the faults.
A message to our kin sent out across the stars,
bring us vengeance and leave nothing but char.
