Death of the Alliance

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Re: Death of the Alliance

Postby Silverdream » Fri Aug 24, 2012 11:49 am

Silent-sigfig wrote:Funny fact: this story is non-canon


:troll:
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Bragallot wrote:Just ask Silverdream. He decides what's true and right, and what someone said or meant at some point, even if they didn't. Clearly he is the most suitable person for fixing this mess.
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Re: Death of the Alliance

Postby Colette » Fri Aug 24, 2012 3:52 pm

Silent-sigfig wrote:Funny fact: this story is non-canon


:troll:
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Re: Death of the Alliance

Postby Zupponn » Fri Aug 24, 2012 10:39 pm

Falk wrote:How can it be non-canon if we don't really even have a canon?

Yes.  Add Falk to the story to solve this issue since he's Cannon Fodder.
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Re: Death of the Alliance

Postby Colette » Tue Aug 28, 2012 4:05 pm

In a battle involving thousands of ships, it was impossible to notice a single Akkadian shuttle warping into the system. Moreover, the AN*US forces probably would have dismissed it as insignificant- what possible difference could a single shuttle make against one of the largest assembled fleets the brikverse had ever seen?

They were about to learn the hard way.

Scythian Admiral Smith Tarquin of the 238th Marine Expeditionary Corps had first received a terrified, half-intelligible transmission from the crew of a Savager-class frigate- it ended with what could only be described as a gargle of someone’s head being ripped off. Soon, however, he noticed the bridge lights of ship after ship deactivating, converting them to dead, aimless metal hulks in space. Ideas of Shraag and meson bolts danced around his head from the few descriptions he managed to obtain- but with the ships still intact, the hypothesis didn’t seem to fit.

The battle began to turn against the AN*US, their fire petering and the Third Alliance emboldening their counter-offensive. This mysterious force began to seriously worry Captain Tarquin.

---

The crew of the USS Donald Reagan gasped as they turned their heads towards the slumped body of Admiral Greenderp. The hooded figure was robed in blue, his sword stained with blood- drops of blood that gently fell to the floor, blood that was being absorbed by the sword- and making it stronger.

The USA was too new and modern of an empire to understand what was going on, having never heard any of the legends of the days of yore of the brikverse. The few that made it to the ears of the public were dismissed as folly.

The figure withdrew another toy from his cape, and with a swift motion summoned a wind. Shortly thereafter there was a thump as every single crew-member’s head fell to the ground.

The mysterious figure transmitted a message to all the ships in the battle- a message of hope and inspiration to some, a message bringing doom and despair to others.

He then hijacked the controls of the great super-carrier, directed it on a new course towards planet New York, and disappeared just as he came.
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Re: Death of the Alliance

Postby Colette » Fri May 01, 2015 9:48 pm

G.R. 2015

Michael Corbad sat alone in his dark executive office suite. The expansive room was perched on the top floor of one of the highest corporate skyscraper headquarters in Moonhatten.

He tilted his champagne flute towards his mahogany desk and gazed upwards through the skylight of his office. Above him the blue marble known as planet New York hung still in space, its surface greyed and dirtied by its trademark ecumenopolis. He had never appreciated the sight when he had worked in Citygroup’s Holdings division back in G.R. 2012. People only appreciated what they had when it was taken away from them.

After the USS Donald Reagan fell towards New York, the AN*US forces lost their leadership and coordination. The Spirit of Ragnablok, flagship of the PAX Corps, mysteriously disappeared. Most assumed it was obliterated out of existence from the sheer firepower of the incoming Third Alliance fleet. Corbad had studied the combat recordings- out of the idle interest of a wealthy executive, of course- and was inclined to reach a different conclusion. He couldn’t quite word his suspicions, in any case. It was merely a thought.

Only a few capital and sub-capital class vessels on the pro-AN side were even spaceworthy by the end of it, and their captains quickly surrendered to the Third Alliance. The TA had sunk most of their casualties into mindless Briktoid drone ships, and still so many remained that it was Briktoid’s mass-produced frigates that herded the defeated ships to a designated jump point, where they disappeared to presumably some prisoner of war holding area.

Third Alliance ground forces had already destroyed the AN headquarters, and with space secured, further TA reinforcements poured in like rain from the sky. Resistance was easily routed with overwhelming force and wonder weapons, and what little remained was dealt with orbital bombardment. For weeks TA ships weaved amongst the wreckage in New York orbit and cluttered its space lanes. From the ground, one could truly have called it an iron sky.

A year passed. The Third Alliance had grown careless and complacent with the Allied Nations destroyed. A civil war erupted within the Third Alliance over pwnies and both sides recalled forces from the New York garrison to feed into it. By the time the Praetorians warped in with the Inexorable-class dreadnought to retake New York, the Joint Third Alliance New York Occupation Task Force had shrunk to a tiny fraction of its original size. The neu-AN’s supporters poured in ships as the TA had done a year earlier, and won back New York. And so the Second Battle of New York had ended in AN victory.

The Third Alliance was not yet brought into the fold, however, and work remained to be done. The neu-AN, high off of its victory in New York, grew arrogant and attacked the heart of Bavaria. Every military analyst and politician in the USA assured the country that the war would be over in a matter of months.

A year and a half later, boots on the ground in Bavaria had not progressed an inch. War was bad for business if you’re on the wrong side of it, and Corbad increasingly felt that way as the club of superpowers and veto powers struggled to subjugate the capital of one nation. He had been appointed CEO of Citygroup in the tumultuous economic times after the First Battle of New York, but the nation still had the unity that accompanies times of national crisis. People were determined to win back New York then. It had mattered to them then. Now as ZNN broadcasted NATO forces gunning down women and children in some far-off space, as American lives were extinguished in the name of an impotent international organization that had ceased to exist years ago, his investors grew unruly. The people grew unruly. Americans began to protest the AN-TA War in the streets and angrily reminded B’lack Obama of his campaign promise to pull American troops out of the foreign conflict.

The market grew uncertain. Investors panicked and sold stocks like mad, dumping the money into gold. Corbad weighed his decisions, and he decided that if he wanted to keep his job, he couldn’t let another 2004 happen. He deployed his lobbyists to Congress and the State Department.

Earlier today he had seen the signing of the Treaty of Planet Versailles on ZNN. He sipped his champagne glass. The AN was coming back. The alliance had never died after all.
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