- Oct. 16, 2005, 8:33 a.m. Crying Devil
101st WolfPack

<b>The History of the 101st Fighter Squadron Wolves</b>

Dedicated to the pilots lost throughout our history: Scrafeniac, Focus, Bheliom, Dreadwolf, Whitewolf, Spawn, Darkwind, Scyther, CapAmerica, DarkStorm, Doobie, Slavyk, Tornado, StormFronter and the others that have left a legacy of courage and honour in the WolfPack, this is for you…

I guess that it was just fate that brought us along the path. The vast emptiness of the cosmos, a giant mass of nothing that is more unforgivable than the deepest sea or highest peak on any planet. It is the most wretched terrain in the universe…so plain…so simple…so dangerous…so deadly. At first the people of our planet dreamed of entering the great void. It was the only place left for us to go. We just felt so powerful, so intelligent, like we know everything that there is for us to know. The pride our race felt was too much for anyone to comprehend. Our achievements and technology that we had conjured up seemed so advanced, so much superior. We had our whole planet taken under our influence, our almighty empire. All of our findings, our newfound wealth, our military might…everything that we could ever dream of having. All that we had left to do was conquer space. It appeared so easy. Just to snatch away a piece of nothingness. We should have let it go. We should have just stopped and let it be. But it was our race’s eternal desire to have more…more of everything, that brought us to this, this situation that we have brought upon ourselves. Our unyielding thirst for anything that we don’t already have that has brought us here. Yet it was at the beginning, even in our most primitive state, that we were truly at peace. Now we have learned, we have desired, we have gained as much as we could from what we had. But it is this relentlessness inside of our people, the unstoppable lust for power, intelligence, and any possible luxuries, which has lead us to our, and our planet’s, demise. This is our story…the story of our people…our unavoidable fate. This is how it all began…

The date was the year 2207. Our planet Cypselus was prospering. The United Sekadian Alliance was dominating the star system. Our great alliance consisted of the 2 technologically inferior neighboring planets that surrounded us. With this pact we had also created a great fleet, known as the Sekadian Armada, which would be our main show of force in the following years. We had just conquered the rest of our star system and we did it relentlessly, slaughtering any who came in our path. Those 9 horrific years of killing may have sealed the fate that was given to us. We had brought destruction upon ourselves. Because it was then when the first ships entered our system… the first 2 cruisers…larger than anything that we had ever encountered. Whether they were companions of the people we had destroyed, or just an expansionist alien race, we will never know. All we do know is that space was about to eliminate us. Our time was up. It was now our turn to die. We had finally pushed it too far. We knew that people feared us…but only in our galaxy. Others…well…didn’t care. We weren’t more powerful than anyone. We lived and preyed upon others. We were always prepared for an invasion…we thought if one should happen we would easily have it under control. Yet again our people were wrong in their thoughts and doings. Why couldn’t we just have stayed in the confines of our planet?

Our Armada was the most feared force in the entire galaxy…consisting of over 300 frigates, cruisers, and battleships, plus each of their respective starfighter contingents. The Armada totaled over 5000 ships in total…yet it stood no chance against our enemy. 2 more of them, and then 2 more, and then 2 more followed the first 2 cruisers that entered our precious star system, and finally the flagship arrived. It was an amazing sight. The absolute size of the vessel was enough to astound you. Yet it struck utter terror in our hearts. We watched as the fleet of 9 ships neared us. Then in less than five seconds…the Sekadian Armada was reduced to rubble. Only 2 blasts from the juggernaut had eliminated our great fleet. Our dear fleet, which was known as the symbol of our greatest achievements. It was gone…all of it. Except for 2 carriers. Then the enemy stuck again. They turned their attention on our beautiful planet. It was the planet that we spent hundreds of years building…creating…and organizing our culture. All of our achievements were obliterated that grave day. All of them, with the exception of the 2 remaining ships of our Armada. Seeming satisfied, the unknown fleet went away after that…leaving those last 2 ships. We had nothing to go back to. Cypselus was in ruins…atomic radiation everywhere. The effects of the attack were irreversible. Our people were destroyed, our planet was destroyed, and our pride will never fully heal. The burden we carry is immense. For it was that day, when the 2 ships left the galaxy; that our everlasting journey would begin. The other frigate decided to go on its own path, separating from us and trying to find a place to settle. We went on by the command of Admiral Saxxon, Captain of the carrier the ANS Europa, who would lead us the rest of the way… deep into the depths of space…the unknown void…simply aspiring to survive.

<center>We are the 101st Fighter Squadron Wolves, the elite squadron of the ANS Europa.

So feared in the galaxy, that the people had given us a nickname

<b>"The Wolf Pack" </b> </center>