The Arachnoi rule from their spires of silk.

Once upon a time, they ruled by fear, pedipalps tingling with the thrill of the hunt, of the subjugation of less predatory species. But cultures evolve, hunters recognise that constant aggression as a fundamental principle leads only to annihilation, and prey learn to eke out a living beneath the many feet of the oppressor.

They claim themselves beneficent masters, but we know the truth.

They dominate through control of vital resources, factory-scale artificial spinnerets, and dreams of a future beyond this world increasingly choked by the detritus of their excess.

They look to the stars - their silk-clad spacecraft already proof against the chill of the expanse - and while they’re blinded by the light of distant suns, this is our chance to rise up, on four legs, six or a thousand, and take back our planet.