Log:Morellian War I

Morellian War for Freedom

OOC Date: October 17, 2022
Location: Morellian Commonwealth
Participants: Clan Kora, Amal Jha, Lofty, Xavier Harcourt, Hadrix Kora, Amallia Madine, Grom, Kohnner, Dalrion, Zevin Daodhri, Hapvarnna, Sana Ryder NPC, Sumi Kora

The attack began suddenly.

Ships of the Morellian migrant fleet appeared in real space, one after another and began to fire relentlessly at the First Order frigate obligated to patrol the system. At first, shields withstood, and the First Order responded in kind; state of the art turrets all locking to one side as the ship's Captain ordered engines to full with helm banking hard to port to present its gun-heavy starboard side. Cannon batteries traded back and forth. Then a third ship, and a fourth, then a fifth arrived. Within moments, the frigate was surrounded and boxed in. Escape pods jettison toward the Commonwealth planet below, and TIE/sf abandon ship just as the vessel begins to combust and blow apart.

A clear path opens toward the remaining Tagart station looming high above the Commonwealth. The path is not so easily traveled as Coalition fighters meet the sophisticated First Order screened defense. Station guns begin to fire, and TIE/sf squadrons whip between ships pursuing (and getting pursued) by friendly fighters.

Launching from the bay of several of the ships are troop carriers oriented toward landing on the station. Morellian Marines, professional soldiers with more than half-decade's experience don their helmets and prep their weapons for combat insertion. At the forefront of the attack in an advance party personnel lander is the vessel carrying Warlord Sumi Kora, and her personal war party (officers intended to help command this incursion to see it through.)

Within the ship, which rocks from receiving turret fire, Sumi stands up and holds onto the cargo netting strung along the center, leveraging her balance with one hand. <"First Battalion lands with us, Marines hungry for blood and justice. Our target is Tagart station, the last remaining space defense in the system, and our doorway to an established campaign on the surface. Our job is the most difficult, as we're to draw security forces to the hangar bay to fight us conventionally. Meanwhile, I have sent a special task force to land pods elsewhere along the station and seize control of the defense battery, and control outgoing comms. We are to fight and destroy as many, if not all, First Order stormtroopers and officers we can in the hangar bay. It will be a hellish fight, but we hold our ground until we hear back from Sana Ryder, and the task force, that the station is ours.">>

The ship rocks again, and the pilot alerts them: "THIRTY SECONDS! FIRST AND SECOND PLATOONS HAVE ALREADY LANDED.. HOT LANDING ZONE!"

Sumi gives a thumbs up, then gestures for everyone to arm themselves. <"GET SET.. FOR A COMBAT DROP! REMEMBER, WE JUST HAVE TO HOLD OUT! NO HEROICS! IF YOU GET LOST IN THE CHAOS, LOOK FOR GROM!">

Neither a Morellian, nor a hardened marine, was Amal Jha. Only an echani, born and blooded on the sands of Eshan, in the arms of the Six Sisters. So, it might do to wonder why the erstwhile trader and sometimes bounty hunter was here among the number selected by Warlord Sumi. But perhaps not while the echani was holding the rapier she favored low and ready, the other hand holding onto the netting to preparation for a jump down to the ground. Nor when she wore that expression of calculated ease. No Battle Cry for the pale near human. She had Battle Face. "As you say, Warlord."

Lofty the Talz is riding a Wookiee Auzituck gunship flown by his Sullustan co-pilot Haoziiplirs Stebbs. The massive Talz is stationed on the door gun, which is really just a MWC-35 'Staccato Lightning' cannon mounted to a pintle. The opened door is magcon-shielded so that Lofty doesn't get sucked out into space. Before battle Lofty slurps down a special edition Boba Fett Holiday Ujcake FizzyGlug can with his little proboscis, then tosses it out into space. Stebbs says in Sullustese, <<"Muhe wa Gúcucuâ!">> which loosely translates to 'give them the rain shower.'

The small gunship flies through station laser fire, taking some flak on its shields, and Lofty powers up his cannon with an ominous electronic KREEEEE sound.

Memories. Far, far too many memories shattered and scattered in his mind, but Xavier remembers Morellia as clear as the last day he had spent on the planet's surface. There is tension on his face; brows pinched together above narrow eyes. The lit cig perched between pointer and middle fingers slowly burning itself away but otherwise abandoned. Dressed in the gear of a trooper, painted and dyed various shades of green under black plates, he seems physically ready for a fight. Mentally is another question.

None of that matters. The battle is fast approaching and the call back to arms rings loudly in his ears for the first time in a century. He flicks the cig away with a grunt, snuffs it out under his boot, then claps his helmet on as he rises. Making his way towards Sumi and the others of her war party, he draws the slugthrower pistol from his hip to check the remaining ammunition. "Maybe this will silence them," he offers in a rumble though doesn't go into detail. Doesn't need to. He grabs onto a handhold and waits, glancing to the others gathered.

He'd been standing near the drop doors since the lander had been sent towards the station, head down, weight bobbing from one foot to the other. Shoulders rolling and and one mailed fist crashing against the side of his helmet. One would think they could feel a rage, pure and unmitigated, flowing off of Hadrix Kora.

<<"Stormtrooper units are top heavy, target officers it'll buy a few moments confusion.">> chest swelling and shrinking in long breaths that threaten to activate his helmet comms.

When the vibrations of the drop ship begin to shift, the sensation of final approach for landing, the big man goes completely still. Wookiee cannon held to be raised to his shoulder at short notice or be dropped to low ready if he needs to move first.

"Ah, y'know, Zevin," says Amallia Madine. "Think I had you pinned all wrong, mate. Thought you were a bit awkward, I did. Didn't know you were such a smooth talker, convincin' me on a first date of killin' First Order. You sly dog." Mollie tips her head to the side, letting the bones of her neck crack as she goes through the motions with her E-11. The blastech cartridge is pulled, checked, slapped in and armed. The switch for stun and kill is toggled from kill to stun, and then back to kill one last time. The weapon shudders in her hands. A vicious wolf ready to sink its fangs into the necks of its enemies.

She pulls the butt stock down and locks it into place, tucking it under her right arm while keeping that barrel pointed towards the floor. "Gotta say. Much prefer the view of the fight from up there," Mollie says, getting close to the man(dalorian) in front of her to peer up through the viewport above her. "But a girl takes what she can get these days."

One more slap to the side of the weapon. Three pats for good luck.

"Yeah, alright."

Grom is having a merry, if not entirely sensible conversation with two of his favorite weapons, a battle rifle and a large axe. The Houk appears to be trying to meditate some unheard argument between the two before looking up with his dull yellow eyes as the plan it outlined. "Yes!" The Houk rumbles. "LOOK for the Mighty Grom! And if you struggle to see him, remember: GROM IS HERE." A wide, toothy grin follows. That probably made Houk-sense. The ace appears to have won the argument, as that battered weapon of war is the one Grom hefts as the battle commences.

Let us get the pretense out of the way first.

CHON KOHNNER, aka Comrade Dogface, aka Pup the Space Ronin; the Klatooinian Swordsman without a Master. Here he was in all his Glory riding the boats to storm the beaches of a space-station all durasteel thinly keeping the air inside clean and pressurized.

Perhaps that's why he preferred a set of Void Armor, his face covered by the suits helmet. He's not far behind Sumi and her War Party, hanging onto the same netting near Amal his Echani compatriot. A tattered and worn white hooded cloak rests over his set of void, hiding his arms and hands and any weapons he might currently posses. His reputation for not using blasters preceded him.

He did not speak up, simply nodded and growled lowly in afirmation.

Dalrion clung to the netting as he looked around the ship at the others. Join the war they said. it will be fun they said. Once in a life time chance they said. all very good points, but still one question bounced round in his head. WHAT THE FRAK WAS HE DOING HERE! As asking the pilot politely to turn around and let him off at the next stop seemed out of the question, and clinging to the cargo netting was likely not really an option.. he looked around the room. "Ssooo uh.. which one is grom?" but then Grom was introducing himself. "oh.. right. of course. im uh.. im going to stay next to you if you dont mind" he flashed a grin, though that was obscured by his helmet.. a good thing to because it was a very weak grin. "im dalrion from.. you can cal me dal.. please uh.. please dont shoot me"

A few days ago: "You kin tell me y'don't wanna shoot at the First Order, Mollie, but we both know it'd be a lie." It didn't take a lot of persuasion for Zevin Daodhri to convince Mollie Madine to join this attack. Whether through deliberate deception or poor planning, however, she is here with the advance party and not out there in her X-Wing shooting TIEs.

Today: "Must be all the cookin'." He smirks invisibly at Mollie's words. "Jus' stay behind me, I'd feel awful guilty if y'go down." If there were ever an occasion to use it, it's now: the half-Echani pulls the massive Morellian Enforcer revolver from his belt and takes position in the vanguard of the landing party. "Errybody knows landin' parties are the height a' romance. Also, maybe cover yer ears. Y'know 'ow loud this'n is."

Through all of this, one great shining helm is gold and glittering. One is painted with flames and shining stars. Upon two great 'horns' that rise vertical, a sunstone set between them at the tip, a Togrutan Dreadfinder. His armor decorated with fangs, and spent bullet casings. Beads, and bones. Claws, and a variety of grenades -- like the one in his hand, as the other twists the shell apart, tossing away fragmentation BBs and humming as they're replaced with...pellets. Smaller pellets. But these are not metal, no, mere vegetation.

The humming rises and falls, and the voxbox crackles. <"Shhhhh'uaaaa....sh'ua..."> The Warlord shouts. Hadrix barks. But Ori'Hapvarnna laaaauuuuuuuughs -- and hums. Flame-painted armor glittering and fine, as one grenade is fit with something like rosary peas, and blast-gel. The shell placed back together, and the button jimmy'd free with a screwdriver. Wires cut, tossed over his shoulder at Hadrix. The T-Visor helm starts to glow fiery orange, and the wires are twisted together, braided, with another -- before the Togruta sets the grenade to his bandolier and taps his thighs happily.

What awaits the group in this MASSIVE hangar aboard the station is TOTAL WAR. Ships arriving to bolster what number of troops are already on the 'ground' have to contend with 'dug in' positions of battle hardened and well disciplined First Order stormtroopers. Literally trained from childhood, the Stormtrooper was taught the fundamentals of teamwork, tactics, and drained of any notion that might tout individual. They are one unit, one mission, one enemy.

The war party's ship arrives amidst several others, the sliding doors unlocking to open and reveal a disembarking area comprised of hastily deployed shield barriers. Beyond that, riddled within the terrain of a hangar bay, stormtroopers call out commands, and officers fearlessly direct the defense of the station by commanding which lane of fire to focus.

Sumi's war party is not so lucky as to have a peaceful disembark. With little in the way of bearings, they are charged by a platoon of stormtroopers led by an ambitious officer telling them to prepare for whatever comes down that ramp, and KILL IT! Little did they know the stingers nest that was about to pour free..

Amal did not bother wishing luck, long life, or the saving of limbs to any of the party. They were not that sort of friends group. But there was something of a group chat, at least from her part, as she jumped down as soon as she had enough clearance to the ground. She had seen all she needed to see of the enemy arrayed against them, and she began swinging as soon as she had her feet, stabbing into one of the troopers, allowing the scent of burning flesh and plasteel to salt the air around her as she kicked the body away and swung again, but it only allowed her to test for range, as she was not close enough to hit a second.

Stebbs the Sullustan pilot brings his Wookiee gunship into the hangar and turns perpendicular, exposing enemy troops to Lofty's door gun. Lofty the Talz starts firing wildly at the enemy stormtroopers to suppress. The Morellian cannon gives a high pitched TEW-TEW-TEW-TEW-TEW as it spits out a dozen rounds. Stormtroopers fall left and right, dead and wounded.

The chaos of the hangar bay is a welcome sight. Chaos he understands. Chaos he can offer in spades. Xavier's left hand twitches, fingers flexing and fiddling without though, while the right grips his slugthrower all the tighter. He is momentarily distracted by GROM -- how could he not be? -- and then to the others around him. Most of whom he doesn't know, but that's hardly a surprise.

It's the looming form of Hadrix that gets his final regard; a tilt of his helmet to the side and no doubt a grin beneath that. If a strained one. <<"I've been wanting to see you in action. And not on the receiving end yet.">> Yet.

The window for banter closes quickly, however, and a blur of green and black moves aggressively into the fray. Melee range just means shorter distance for his ballistics to travel, making armor-piercing all the easier. One trooper falls after two loud, archaic bangs of his gun and a third is left with sympathy pains in the form of a bullet lodged into their upper arm.

Hatches have barely become halfway open open showing the surroundings are rife with targets, eyes seeing the brackets forming on his HUD. Wookiee cannon coming up to rest its stock into s groove designed into his shoulder pauldron. He might have started to speak, might have started to vocalize - but old training kicks in.

Rage becomes focus, movements smooth and his breathing easy. One foot comes forward when he leans to brace into the recoil of the titanic weapon and opens fire. Loosing a durasteel bolt wreathed in tibanna plasma into their midst once he has made his third step down the ramp... only for the kick to shove him right back up. Metal shrieks and sparks fly and Hadrix leaves haggard drag marks in his reversed wake and is forced to get his balance after that particular display.

The target of his venom is caught in the chest and thrown as if they'd been struck by a speeder coming at them. Plastoid shards flying outward like reactive tank armor. It's a wonder they're still breathing.

"Ah, is that right?" Mollie sing-songs, amused, "I s'pose we'll have to see, won't we?"

She's habitual about how she checks her weapons. That cartridge is slid out and back in, the special < I > marking incendiary on the side. "Snuck a little something while we were docked in Trandosha. Bit excitable, this gas. Should keep 'em burnin' awhile after they're done."

Zevin's given two slaps on the shoulder and one on the butt as the pair of them file out. Mollie is less than keen on being shot, so she does as asked: she sticks behind the man(dalorian) and pops two quick shots out towards his left side.

PEW (ARRRRGH) PEW (AIEEEEE)

"How's that for cookin', Mandoman?!"

Grom laughs loudly at Dalrion's great joke. "HA. Grom laughs a second time: HA. To think that Grom could shoot you with an axe! Yours is an excellent wit, Dameron. Unless... There is a gun.. which shoots AXES. YES, GROM MUST FIND THIS GUN." Whether he heard wrong, can't properly grasp names, or actually thinks Dalrion is Poe Dameron is anyone's guess, but this axe-gun idea has grabbed the hulking reptile. But then, the hatch opens and the Stormtroopers are within reach of a charging Grom. "AH, HELLO AGAIN, little White shelled mammal. THE MIGHTY GROM IS UPON YOU." The amount of talking the big warrior does provides the stormtrooper plenty of time to avoid the swing, a d Grom merely carves open a swathe of deck plating.

Much like Amal, the infamous CHON KOHNNER has no time for pleasantries or luck wishing. The Battlefield was a place of skill, bravery, and honor... and maybe a little bit of luck but he preferred not to admit that.

He kept up with the pace of the battle, the bolts slamming and zipping around him leaving him unfazed as he zeroed in on fire element of Stormtroopers. He launched into them, his Canine legs allowing him a great deal more speed than that of the average bipedal. His robotic leg allowed for a slight limp, but more from the stiff motion of the thing than out of pain or immobility.

From under his whipping cloak emerged a Z6 Riot Baton, crackling to life with it's stunning energy field. The Klatooinian swung with all his might at the Squad leader, the ducked but fell back on their rear. He twisted the Baton around and struck first at the Trooper to the left of him, jabbing him with the edge of the baton. The force field crackled and they went flying. Then with a low spin, his cloak flowing as he twirled, he thwacked it across the Trooper to the Right, knocking them down as well.

Dalrion looks to grom and blinks a few times. "no no.. Dalri... you know. its fine. i can work with it. Axe-gun, dameron.. its all good. lets go axe some fools!" despite his bravado, he jumps slightly as the doors swing open and the thunder and hailstorm of blaster fire, explosions. Dalrion manages to snap a few quick shots off, actually dropping one of the troopers to his great surprise. BUt there goes grom! Dal lets out a little startled yelp as Grom barreled off.. and quickly wondered if staying close to grom was actually any safer.. or if he was just adding another way to be killed. but then he decided that NO ONE wanted to deal with an axe wielding Houk.. so it likely was safer. he darts down the ramp after grom, trying to provide some covering fire for the axe wielding murder machine.

<"Well flamin' bodies is demoralizin' when y'know the poor b*stard, fer sure. Speakin' a' flamin' bodies- Hapvarnna! Didn't see ye there."> Zevin takes measured steps down the ramp. He draws a bead on a trooper not entirely behind cover. Three loud BOOMs follow, and the stormtrooper drops to the ground. When he falls forward, he reveals that the (two, not three) exit wounds are larger than where the bullets entered.

<"Nice shootin'."> Hapvarnna's grenade explodes after Grom charges, and then Chon Kohnner is wading in with a baton. <"I like 'is style."> Of course he would. It is also his style, though not at the moment. <"Thank yew fer bein' such a big target, Mister Grom, sir.">

The tall Ori'Hapvarnna stands, and he jingles like so many bells were attached to his person. Not bells, but grenades. Bombs. Traps. Awful things of awful savagery. One such is plucked free and raised towards his head, <"Orrrrrrri'Hapvarrrrrrrnnnaaaaaa -- he blesses you! SU'UUUUUUN! SEES YOU! Watches! If you die, you will be WITNESSED! Your BONES will be carrrrriieeed back! But ffffearrrrrr not, noooo, no...SU'UUN'S CHILDRRRREN COME TO HELP! SEE THEM? Hearrrrr them? Yes."> Metallic-covered fingers are coated in a foul-smelling oil - gun-oil - and flicked at each person that the Togruta passes. When the ship opens and people charge forward, Hapvarnna heaves the grenade with a cackle. Explosions. Violence. The Dreadfinder's orange T-Visor glows bright, and from the antennae that run along his helm, orange halos appear around enemies.

"ENEMY TRACKING: ENABLED. CLOUD-CONNECTION: ENABLED. TRANSFERING DATA." The Togruta cackles again, and draws forth another grenade as Hapvarnna stands behind Zevin.

The platoon that meets them in combat is caught off guard when the group rushes out with enthusiasm of war. Folding backward, the platoon attempts to mitigate its ambitious approach, but their officer is trying to shove them back into the combat despite several of his troopers meeting their end. Despite the obviously underestimating their foe, the discipline of the stormtrooper corps holds true, and the troopers heed their officer and return to the line. One of the sergeants points at the group with a knife hand, screaming <"BLAST EM!">

Sumi Kora descends the ramp at the rear of the group walking casually and lifting her handcannon to fire a trio of times. Of the three .48 slugs shot, one catches a stormtrooper square in the chest transforming the plasteel into a white cloud of shattered armor. The round is so potent it bursts from their back emitting a cloud of pulverized blood mist with an impact momentum that carried them off their feet. Sumi chuckles, locking the hammer back on the single-action revolver. <"HOLD THIS LINE!"> She calls out, <"AND FIND SOME REKKING COVER IF YOU'RE ABLE.. GOT A LOT OF FIGHTING TO DO! OYAHHH!">

Sumi spares a look overhead at the sound of a barking Morellian heavy repeater pouring from the door of a gunship hovering above. The massive Talz manning the weapon receives a nod (likely unseen), but Sumi appreciated automatic fire. <"LETS GO, GODS DAMN IT! I DON'T HEAR ENOUGH OF THEM DYING!">

Further along the line, Morellian Marines are giving as good as they get, the discharge of laser and slugthrower alike making the noise in the hangar so LOUD and chaotic that ears are likely ringing. Slugs that miss WHIP-CRACK overhead, sparking off distant bulkheads. The grenade explosion rocks the ground and station, its noise followed by Sumi's laughter, screaming <"SUUUUUUN!"> to egg the grenadier on.

There were perks to being an officer in the First Order, so she had been told, in the days of yore when she had worked, tangentially, for the First Order. But being immune from being targeted as a clear point of pain for troop morale was not one of them. Avoiding the incoming fire, Amal moved like water across the battlefield, driving the point of her blade into the officer trying to push his troopers back into line. That she finished off said trooper on the back swing, well, that was what he got for his cowardice.

Lofty is a big target. While firing, a single blaster round impacts his ground trooper breastplate which stops most of the force. However at least some of the plasma sizzles through and singes skin and fur. The enraged Talz gives a toot from his snoot "TOOOOOT", and pours more cannonfire into the hated white shells. His sensitive lower set of eyes close, protecting them from the bright TEW-TEW-TEW-TEW-TEW that pelts the enemy like a shower of magma.

His Morellian cannon goes CLICK-CLICK-CLICK while the barrel steams. It is out of ammo. Lofty quickly fumbles to replace the bulky K-cell.

"Ehhhhhh, kark is thissss?" Mollie says, her cheek spattered with some manner of stinky gun oil as Hapvarnna passes. The battlefield's too CHAOTIC for Mollie to be doing this, but she absolutely must pause for a moment and regard that oil that she's collecting on the tips of her gloved fingers while the <SUUUUUN>-loving Mandalorian skips gleefully past her and Zevin. She sniffs it and pulls her face sharply away, looking towards Zevin with a face that's somewhere between disgusted and pleading for some sort of explanation. And then. Realization!

"Rekk me, am I a Mandalorian now? Is this some kind of ritua--oh, hang on," Mollie ducks behind Zevin as a hail of blaster fire peppers him, watching as one bounces off his arm, singing as it goes.

"OI!" she calls out, pops out, and shoots out a line of incendiary E-11 KREWKREWKREWRKEWKREKREWKREKRWKEWKRWE that kills a man and sets his corpse on fire.

The horror!

"You alright, mate? Brush it off, brush it off..."

Cover would be a grand idea, but Xavier doesn't have the stomach for it personally. Now in the thick of it, the fog of war consumes the man. <<"Break the right flank! Tear a hole in the defenses and circle!">> He gestures to a group of Morellian militia near him while effortlessly sidestepping a shot aimed for his head. <<"Don't get bogged and don't get pinned. Put them on the backfoot!">>

Blam! Blam! Blam! His slugthrower shouts with the small of gunpowder and concussive hits, joining the cacophony of sound that has erupted in the hangar. Nearby, he notices a canine form under attack and moves swiftly to stand in guard of him. <<"Harcourt,">> comes the introduction smoothly over his shoulder. <<"You still up?">>

<<"Harcourt...">> the rumble is bordering on feral, oil is running down the side of his helmet and the groove in his shoulder pad looks like it might have been made deeper, despite its construction of proper Iron. <<"Nevermind...">> Sumi is calling out to take cover while tries to make up ground lost to the shove of his cannon.

<<"Ori'Hap, cover Zevin and Madine, ordinance barrage while they firing line.">> broken, core accented, voice rasping and growling in short order, <<"Grom, Dalrion, Chon - spear head. Spread their line.">> He's barely aware of what he's saying, Hadrix's eyes scanning the compressed 360 degree view above his brows - watching figures fall and shouldering his rifle once again. The polarizer coils spinning up with their distinct whumWhumWHumWHUmWHUM and the big man's body is twisted to one side when he fires.

Already recovering with his boots on the deck the second shot comes in short order into the mass of white armored soldiers still picking themselves up from leaping clear of their fellow. Their backflip ending on their face and armor shards all around making them look like a still image of a firework.

The second bolt hits durasteel, skips and shrieks off for another part of the hangar, slamming into an equipment rack and sending it spinning wildly on its casters.

<<"Kriffing thing...">>

"Yes, FOLLOW GROM, AXE-GUN DAMERONG," the Houk bellows, mispronouncing Dalrion/Dameron again, but deciding the other had accepted 'Axe-Gun Dameron' as his name. Another thanks him for being a big target, and the bombastic Houk bellows between swings, "Yes, King Grom is quite large. GROM IS GLAD YOU HAVE NOTICED," the axe wielding idiot preens. While conversing, the Houk is struck in the right arm by a blaster bolt, which the Houk reacts to as if being tapped on the shoulder. "Hmm? Oh, yes! Little white shelled mammal is right: TO BATTLE." He promptly bisects some poor stormtrooper across the torso, the upper half of which he continues talking to. "And you are looking much better than the last time Grom cleaved you in twain. UNTIL WE NEET AGAIN." He looks up and spots another Stormtrooper. "SO, WE MEET AGAIN. PREPARE YOUR LINE FOR SPREADING." And he charges again, axe brandished overhead.

Dalrion looks over to hadrix, eyes going wide inside the helmet. What he wanted to say was 'What ther slag does spreading their lines mean?! why me?! send the heavy armorered folks! why didn't i just go find some nice ruins to go exploring into.' all that came out was a head nod and the crackle of his voix. "Right! Forward Grom!!! time to spread some cheeks! i mean lines!" Grom's fearless battle fervor was infectious. or maybe he was just to high on adrenaline to really think about it. "PREPARE TO BE SPREAD CHALK HEADS! CHOOSE BETWEEN THE AXE OF GROM OF THE BLSTER OF DAMERONG!! CHOOSE NOW BEFORE WE MAKE THE DREAD BLASTER-AXE AND YOUR DOOM IS SEALED!" of course he got carried away and while he was shouting, grom was already charging off. He quickly darted after the houk, laying down fire and dropping another storm trooper

The clap-thunder of violence shivers into the Togruta's very bones. His world is one of waves and vibrancy; Togrulocation calling out to every neuron. Even as Hadrix Kora calls his orders, the Sun-Worshipper holds up a blinking grenade, <"SUUUUU'UUUUUUUN, SUMIII KORRRAAAA! SU'UN!"> The frag grenade is cast with no real target, it's hucked with an abandon.

Even as Zevin is shot and now Mollie is covered in Mando-oil, Hapvarnna's armor continues to call out to its fellows like a muse seeking artists: Painting each enemy in a halo of orange light.

There is barely time for reprieve, for Chon was on a battlefield after all. He was rising after his last strike, the cloak around him swaying slowly to a stop as the tall Canine reached his full height once more. That's when the Team Leader he had missed with his first strike shot him in the chest.

The War Dog staggered back, his chest plate sparking and smoldering with the impact, smoke rising. His robotic limb clawed into the ground behind him, the grav lock on his boots clamping him down and preventing him from fallings. His head hung down and there was nothing but silence from him.

5tSlowly the Ronin's head rose to look upon his assailant. Chon let out a tremendous howl before leaping forwards and cracking the Team Leader across his helmet. He wasn't more cautious now, in-fact the attack on him left him with anger. The type of anger used to fuel a killing spree. Blinded by blood-lust, the Klatooinian sought out another fire-team, unleashing on them with a flurry of swing, sending yet another white armored minion of the First Order to the never back.

Zevin is dashing forward, looking to make the First Order's first line of defensive positions into their advance party's beachhead, when shots sizzle past him - but one catches him in the leg. There's no exclamation accompanying it - he was already bringing himself into a crouch against that first barricade. He slides the hand cannon back into its holster as he examines his leg. <"'m fine,"> he reassures Amallia. When the stormtrooper who landed the shot falls back, burning, his smile is hidden. <"'at's what yew GET!">

With a flip of a switch, lightning erupts across his own Z6 stun mace. <"Use th' cover, Moll. Gotta go do Echani stuff, y'know?"> If you don't know, the baton should give it away: it is time to get up close and personal.

<<"This is Sana Ryder, the Task Force has made it to the command station, but we're fighting.. machine troopers. Dark exo-skeletons.. will check in if we live. Stand by...">> The background of the comms is lost to the noise of the battle in the hangar bay. Stormtroopers have begun to lose ground, not just where the war party is fighting, but along the entire line. The setting changes a bit as the group wades into more obstacle-filled terrain. Crates and parked starfighters provide ample cover for both sides, and instead of it being a line vs line scenario, it's sporadic fighting and general chaos. Morellians are reacting to the commands given by General Harcourt whilst Hadrix manages the local war party, giving them the sense of organization.

The First Order is not defeated yet, and Sergeants are shoving troopers toward their enemy and commanding discipline that they hold what they have. Troopers defiantly do just that, refusing to give up their position. They fire back with vengeance.

Sumi crosses the opening, firing into the leg of a trooper and forcing them to fall into her form. She shoves her fist against their chest and releases a powerful torrent of laser power, sending the trooper's poor body away from her.

Amal, as was her way, did not really look back to see where the rest of the team was. At last glance, the only one who was moving at close proximity to her was Chon Kohnner, and the rest were doing what most did with blasters, which was 'attack from a safe distance'. Not something the echani was afforded, as the rapier forced her to fight up close and personal. The pale echani leapt over a barrier, driving the point of her sword down into one of the crouching stormtroopers, the point catching on his armor. That was well, as she kicked off, driving her weight down into the blade and searing the armor and the body beneath it. That was going to take some kicking off.

Among it all, Xavier heard it: his name growled like granite melting in acid. It has a particular ring to it that will always draw the man's attention. He spares a glance over to the purple-armored man arranging the battlefield. <<"Nevermind? Nonsense, Hadrix Kora, nonsense. I've been eager to see this day. Might I say you are a magnificent display of unbridled carnage. Well worth the wait. I look forward to more.">> BLAM! BLAM! The Dagger continues to sing it's one-note song. And that note is ballistic pain.

More fire is coming his way: doubled as he is intentionally moving to keep a cover on the Klatooinian. <<"Chon, is it?">> Another Stormie falls as they navigate the smattering of vehicles and crates. Xavier slides over the top of a metal container, dropping onto the other side and stooping down momentarily, duck under more haphazard fire. <<"Keep pushing! They either die or run! No other options granted!">>

Cannon raised and right foot put forward as he goes to partial kneel, a trio of barrels extend from the side of the poleyn and his targeting whip swings down. <<"Watch the narrows, they'll use them for chokes. Keep on Grom, he'll open paths.">> A blaster bolt slams into his chest, high and exploding just below his gorget, rocking his head back and narrowly avoiding the show that Xavier is hungering to see. The impact resulting in the wookiee rifle being released to hang from its straps.

<"Sonova...">

He's incensed. They tried to shoot him in the face. His first target identifying themselves and the micro-rocket spirals out with a hiss that becomes a hollow thud when it strikes the stormtrooper's rerebrace. That one and one of their fellows' helmets turn to look at the munition, the struck figure reaching to grab their suddenly bleeding limb.

A bolt to one leg throws off the big man's balance is knocked off and the second rocket dart imbeds itself into the side of a crate, chased by the third that sinks into the chest plate of the trooper reaching to help pull the dart from the first struck when all three munitions explode. Tearing open a crate full of spare parts, the chest of one trooper and blowing the arm off of the other, casting them back to the ground, silent and screaming.

"Cover? You wha--ohh! OI! No way, Mandoman," Mollie says, rolling up and behind the man(dalorian) named Zevin she's been following this entire time. He wants to do Echani Tings (trap beat), then he's going to have some cover! Mollie steps in front of him and levels her blaster towards some line of poor Storm Troopers being shoved out into the open engagement.

Is she momentarily distracted by the sultry sounds of Sana Ryder? Of course she is. We won't say that's why she missed her first few shots. But it might be. Regardless, she's able to point the barrel in roughly the right direction of one of the aforementioned Poortroopers and turn his armor into something vaguely resembling a crater. And then setting him on fire a few seconds later.

"I think I like her. Sana Ryder. That's a sexy name, isn't it? D'you think she's single, mate? D'you know her?"

Pestering Zevin as she goes.

"Do you think she'd like me ship?"

The station's hangar- rocked by a sustained Morellian assault- had taken damage. One piece of damage was a ceiling mounted TIE rack, which left one of the looming, hexagonal winged fightercraft resting unevenly on the deck near one of the bottlenecks Hadrix had just described. And in a great disturbance in the Force felt far and wide.. Grom has an idea.

With a bellow of "BEHOLD THE MIGHT OF GROM," the lumbering Houk rumbles toward the starfighter at a run, slamming into one solar panel and LIFTING from the bottom edge of the already unbalanced TIE, which topples over in an clatter, crushing four VERY unfortunate troopers, and making a hole in the Imperial line. "GROM WINS," he declares, proudly.

<<"We've met before.">> Chon manages to croak out in more of a growl towards Xav as he presses his attack. In fact the man had paid him for services rendered once on Tatooine some time ago. There is a nod in affirmation to his assistance in keeping some fire off the Klatooinian. however, the adrenaline and anger from the blaster strike at his chest was starting to ware off and the fatigue and pain were starting to set in.

He settled into a new group of Troopers, who were now thinning thanks to their efforts. However, they were quicker and wiser, reeling away from the swings of twists of his crackling Z6.

He chanced a glance towards Amal to see if she was still there before he refocused himself and let out a low growl.

Dalrion is hunkered down behind a crate, blaster raised as he was preparing to charge out again. "Alright grom! you go left i'll go right. look for cover.. maybe use that starfighter?" he draws a breath and rolls to the side, scrambling to his feat and breaking into a run to get behind the next crate, laying down a hail of blaster fire toward the troopers. he takes a moment to take in the truly masterful display of violence the squad is putting on, his vox crackling as he adds in, "you all are a slagging force of nature.." his words got cut off by grom taking his word's VERY literally. The ship is tipped as a weapon, Grom literally toppling the damn thing onto the poor troopers. Dalrion stares, his mouth just falling open slack jawed, and tries to guess at the raw strength needed to do that. he raises a blaster.. and distractedly shoots at a trooper.. managing to ping a blaster bolt into the troopers foot, causing him to dance. but Dalrion was still to busy staring at the poor pancaked troopers.

<"'ll introduce ye after the battle."> It helps to have something to look forward to afterwards, right? Zevin offers no comment on her relationship status. <"She ain't partic'larly chatty, but yew go that covered."> He slides over the next crate, punching the electro-mace directly into the face of the stormtrooper on the far side of it.

A broad sweep sends ozone out and little else, just creating space. A swing up from below catches the next trooper in the jaw. <"Watch that clump to th'right, they-"> They get crushed by a fighter hurled by Grom. <"Cancel that, let's go /there/."> He raises his hand and gestures forward with it, moving towards the open spot in the enemy line.

The glittering bowcaster on Hapvarnna's back hums with with a pestering buzz, envious of the other soul-bound dieties striking carnage. The Togruta however, ignores the buzzing weapon. Across comms, his voice cackles and sings in growing tone and religious fervor. <"Heeeaaarrrrrrr him! Me, evennnn! HEARRRRR SUUU'UUUN SPEAK! SING, VICTORRRRY, SSSUUUUMIIIII KORRRAAAA!"> A grenade is rolled across the ground, another plucked from the bandolier. <"SSSING, CHILD'RRREENNN! SING! THUNDERRRRBROTHERRRRS! SSSSCREAMINGSISSSTERRRRS! SING!">

Each explosion, each cry out, every motion, amplified for the Togruta who -- stands stock still even as blaster-bolts scream by his horned head.

Sumi, bringing up the rear, fires a trio of times unsuccessfully, yielding a pinned trooper that has managed to avoid the ire of her weaponry. Annoyed but not distraught, the century old soldier puts her back to cover, and drags her handcannon up to begin the reloading process by shaking out the spent shell casings after opening the cylinder from the receiver. Casing bounce noisily on the ground as a sudden..

EXPLOSION

..violently rocks the station. A grenade catches the right spot of a starfighter fuselage and ignites the fuel cells, creating a MASSIVE explosion that consumes the unlucky stormtroopers caught in its kill radius. An invisible wave of kinetic concussive energy spreads from the explosion, sending countless people, friend and foe, from their feet. There's a brief awkward silence, followed by a MASSIVE bass-sounding collision of another starfighter hitting the deck, CRUSHING troopers beneath it. GROM WINS is the only thing heard after the pause the falling fighter created, then blasters and slugthrowers are back at it again.

<<"THIS IS RYDER.. ">> Sana calls out over the comms, winded. <<"We have control of the station. Find someplace to latch yourself to, and hang on. VENTING THE HANGAR of hostiles.">>

Amal, who, it might be noted, wore, essentially nothing useful, only her usual white catsuit and duster, was no fool, and when the call came to alert them to a venting action, Amal snapped her wrist, the rapier slithering into its whip form. She performed, then, what was almost her signature move, which normally resulted in something being decapitated. This time, though, the whip wound itself around the landing strut of the closest TIE fighter, the plasma warping the metal as the whip dug in, anchoring her to the deck. This time, she did look around, to see if there was anyone close enough that needed a grab when the air started to vent.

'We've met.'

That gives Xavier a pause and in the middle of this hell, his back straights and a twist of the waist regards Chon thoughtfully. <<"Have we? How rude of me. Well, consider this an introduction I'm not likely to forget, mmm?">> Orders from the other infiltration team beams in with a warning. Never a good thing to hear the word 'venting' while in the hangar bay, that is for sure.

Xavier glances behind him towards the shields keeping the vacuum at space right where it belongs. Then back to glance at all the crates, scrap metal, bodies, and huge-arse starfighters that are about to get sucked into the void. His shoulders sage heavily, finding himself in the dead center of this wide, wide open space.

Not... the smartest place to be in a situation such as this, A bit of an oversight, really. He glances up to see hoists dangling from above, chains and hooks of several sizes. That, too, is not ideal but any port in a storm. Xavier's left hand extends upwards and the hook drops the last few feet for him to grab onto quickly. Quickly, he wraps his arm around and around, sighing heavily.

There was one... Shoulder pad, command marks. Not bothering to lift his wookie rifle back up, Hadrix moves forward.

<<"BRACING">>

Is he though? The Boar-Wolf of Ealor is moving, suddenly, and with a fluidity of movement it's done in complete mockery of physics. How a man of that size, wearing that heavy a suit of armor, can do it is a wonder. Twisting at the waist to let one blaster bolt go past him, and then rolling forward beneath the next the Massive Mandalorian springs airborne with his right arm cocked back.

The target of his ire is stepping backwards, calling out <"BLAST 'EM! BLAST EM!"> carbine raised to sing a shot just wide of the leaping man's head. Along the side of Hadrix's right hand a blade lengthed to put just over a foot of hypersonic screaming durasteel beyond his fist extends and his left foot snaps out in a kick that pirouettes the dark purple armored warrior and pole-axes the stormtrooper commander; sending them skidding to a very sudden halt when the wind is pushed out of them by the weight suddenly atop their chest.

The first jab of the blade is pushed wide with the stock of the F-11D, sent into the floor with a shower of sparks and shrieking metal. A swing of the weapon bounces off the big man's side and the officers' face, their helmets', is palmed by one mass oft compared to a wampa paw and forced to the ground a moment before the blade goes through their neck like paper and into the deck below - forcing gurgling choking sounds and blood to pool in Al'Verde Kora's own particular method of locking himself down.

Ah, they're going to vent the hangar.

"...AH SHAVIT," Mollie yells, whirling around and firing a spray of incendiary E-11 fire towards a group of stormtroopers. She's not really paying attention about where she's firing. Just shoot the dorks in the goofy white helmets. Anyone can do that. She -is- looking for a good place to latch onto, however. That E-11 is tucked away, and Mollie sprints towards Zevin to quickly latch herself onto the Mandalorian's armor. She also tucks up into his side, like one of those saucy Romance Novel covers.

"I don't have any oxygen, Mandoman," she says up to him, and gives him a few taps on his helmet.

"So don't drop me, mmm? Or I guess it's 'see you when I see you'," she says. And then her voice turns a bit more serious. Uncharacteristically so.

"You take care of 'em, yeah? You take care of them, and the ship," she says, and swallows, "And you -absolutely- destroy that datapad under my bed. Captain's orders."

Dalrion blanches slightly at the news that they are venting the hangar bay. "Ah slag it!!!" he began to fumble for his other gun. "Grom!! grom im going to shoot you a line! catch it and dont...oh wait.." he tapped his wrist control and the maglocks clicked on. "hah! handy that!" he very happily twirled the blaster and fired off a few last shots. "enjoy the trip you bucket Heads!" he looked to grom, "hold on big guy!"

'Venting the hangar.' <"I've gotta bad feelin' 'bout this..."> Zevin is among the enemy with Mollie. The sound of breaking kneecaps is hard to hear amidst the tumult as he sweeps the legs out from under the nearest trooper.

Then Mollie grabs onto him, giving final orders. <"I will,"> he promises, wrapping an arm around Mollie's waist with as much force as he has in that arm. <"But ye'll live yet to add to it yet.">

He pulls them both over next to one of the refueling stands, where the various tubes extend from to feed the fighters and shuttles. He wraps his free arm - and a leg, for good measure - around the terminal. <"Base's bolted down,"> he confides.

What he doesn't point out, and she knows as a fighter pilot: these terminals are located where where they are because the fuel tanks are right beneath them.

Chon gets a bit of a second wind, cracking a trooper across the head once more and sending them to the ground with violent glee. There is a glance towards Xav as he responds and the Ronin simply nods. He wasn't much for talking on the battlefield. It was like a professional at work, his concentration completely and utterly on the destruction and brutal defeat of his enemy.

His focus now returned, two bolts zipping past him as he approached another set of First Order Stormtroopers. He swung at them in proper form, but they managed to avoid his powerful and deadly strikes. The Z6 baton crackled and sparked against a crate, showering the area in glowing shards of metal.

Then the announcement of spacing the hold came. Chon looked left, then right, quickly hooking his Z6 back under his cloak and onto his belt before dialing the maglock settings on his booties all the way up. He braced himself.

Sumi places eight rounds into the slots of the weapon's cylinder, then spins it shut with a loud rattle noise. When Sana announces they need to latch onto something and hold on, Sumi is ducking slightly from the sparked impacts of laser bolts. Spotting a well rooted support beam, she fires her whipcord to it, latching it securely in place. Then, it's awaiting the worst part.

Morellian Marines activate maglock boots, and officers sound off that their men are secure. Sumi's raspy voice announces over comms that, <<"We're secure, Tal Wolf,">> (Blood Wolf).

Sana's voice leaves little time for error, <<"Understood. Venting.">>

All sound ceases to be as the energy barriers for the hangar bay cut out, and power in the hangar flickers. Anything loose, and not firmly planted in place, is drawn out from the hangar and vented into the void of space. It's a slow, terrifying moment. Stormtroopers thrash violently in the weightless void, many holding their necks from choking on the lack of oxygen. A terrible cold seeps in, frosting tranparisteel and helmet visors not accustomed or designed to mitigate the void environment.

After a half minute of hanging on, the emergency hatches slide shut and environmental systems come back online. Lights stabilize, and anyone who had been floating hits the ground in a clatter (like Sumi). The smell of cordite is heavy in the air, but the Morellians seem to associate that scent with victory.

<<"Akaan'Alor (Warlord), the station is yours.">> Sana says, a smile evident by the sound of her voice.

Sumi's response is a grunt, she's rising back up to her feet.