CONTRAVENTOR

It has been 500 years since the last great empire of Humanity fell. 500 years since the Lord President was cut down in her moment of absolute Triumph. Her successors began to fight over her throne before she had even grown cold, and their myriad descendants along with those of their officers have continued those petty wars to this day, with the traditional command structures of her time having long since given way to increasingly elaborate and convoluted systems of feudal privilege and obligation.

Now, Mankind are a broken people, eking out a claustrophobic existence in tiny walled off sections of the space colonies and arcologies their ancestors built, the knowledge needed to maintain them utterly lost. Robber barons and bizarre cultists carrying hereditary titles of Captain, General and Major make throne rooms of the command decks of centuries-old warships, hoarding the machines that have defined warfare for over half a millenia, Ents.

The Ent, or ‘Armoured Entry Vehicle’ as it was originally dubbed, started life as little more than an armoured space-suit, designed for boarding actions to break the gridlock of fleet combat that had come to define the wars between the rival powers of The Jovian Sphere and the Earth-Solar government, then located on Mars. However, as the size of warships and the strength of their defences grew, so too did the size of Ents, with 20 metre tall monsters becoming increasingly common. 

With the breakdown of society that followed the Lord President's death rendering large scale industry and resource extraction borderline impossible, Ents became even more invaluable, no longer just weapons of war, they became by far the safest way to scavenge for vital supplies across the ancient battlefields and mausoleum colonies that dotted the Solar System. However, that collapse which had made the Ent vital for survival also made it precious beyond belief. The knowledge and equipment required to build the more complex components of an Ent, Reactors especially, were lost in mere decades and now few even remember how to repair and maintain them, making each Ent lost in combat a tragedy.

Such importance is ascribed to these ancient weapons that many pilots and maintenance crews ascribe religious significance to their centuries-old beasts, decorating them with horns, snarling faces and tapestries that depict the glorious victories and terrible defeats that have populated their long histories. pilots too are similarly worshipped, with the mightiest becoming like saints to the half-starved fanatics that continue their legacies. In ancient times the maddened mercenaries and pirates that swore allegiance to no real cause or purpose beyond their own glory were named ‘Contraventor’, a curse uttered from the lips of politicians and generals alike, but now every wretched orphan crawling through maintenance capillaries wishes day and night to be one of these conquering heroes.

It is in this world that you will find your own glory. Set ablaze your nuclear heart, sharpen thy spear and polish thine armour, turn your madness into wisdom and your wisdom into woe. Take flight and carve your name into the very surface of the Sun.

Godspeed Pilot.