Log:Inter-Rim Championship Races: Bespin

Inter-Rim Championship Races: Bespin

OOC Date: January 29 2022
Location: Bespin - Cloud City
Participants: Giabahb Kol'trapar, Nerys Greystorm,Vega, Aryn Cortess, Fae Renta, Chani Tahn, Fyrris Vochar, Jallo Dara, Hahtavi Kora, Rook, Tarq Najjic, Ulani Kalgaav, Bizz Bliptettjupp, Bizz Bliptettjupp, Mandl, Khalim, Netep Muri, Nora Frayus and Reverberate as GM

"Prepare yourselves, gentlebeings... FOR THE... SECOND" for the lack of easy grounds for stands in Cloud city, but the Credit Pirate Casino is more than apt to house the madness of the "INTER-RIM SWOOP CHAMPIONSHIP RACE!!" the declaration for which immediately causing the crowded casino to go wild and betting stations to open up for the onrush.

Emerging upon a raised platform at the center of the casino comes Gutu Phlu! The Gran Major Domo of RACING! Decked out in a suit that looks like it is crafted of twinkle lights for how it shimmers and shifts colors. Three lensed shaders over his eye stalks and equine-like teeth on beaming, smiling, display.

Dancing men and women of various species surge through the crowd dispensing little trinket keepsakes and baubles to commemorate the event as images of the racers begin filling screens and holo displays all over. "Gentlebeings welcome to the CLOUD CITY CLUSTER on gorgeous Bespin, home of B'Rot Mining and Metals - and one of the proud sponsors of the CHAMPIONSHIP!"

Sebulba and Otho'oku Baj wave to the crowds, the racers themselves on a very specifically controlled portion of Cloud City for the race. Meanwhile Gutu turns about on his personal stage, motioning to racer images and looking ecstatic the entire time, "RACERS TO YOUR VEHICLES!!!"

Sections of the floating city sudden reveal themselves to be part of the race itself. Winding corridors and open portions alike. Plenty of space to crash into walls or go sailing into the gases of the planet.

Nerys, who sat atop her swoop, tapped a heel against one of the footrests, as Bitty swiveled around, giving literally every racer who was not the racer she was looking for the stink-eye. While Nerys was unable to see the droid, as the ID10 was securely strapped to her back, not unlike a very useless jetpack, she could feel the rotation, "I'm sure she'll be here. Come on." As the racers were announced and the word was given, Nerys nudged the swoop over towards the starting line, or what was serving as one for tonight's race, engine on low idle.

Okay. Bespin. Cloud City. Lots of people, lots of movement. That's good cover. Giabahb's carrying a package and he's supposed to hand it to someone at the specified time in the specified locale - very hush-hush, but that's how these things are done. The Mon Calamari is wearing a leather duster inside out, seams bulging oddly from their recent inversion. The orange-dapple-green-skinned face gawps at all the excitement. Swoop Racing? Wide-set yellow eyes manage to go a little wider as he makes his way through a crowd near some barricades. Just a little swipe of ident and he should pass by unnoticed. A small table has a lot of bustle about it, but he reaches in and takes one of the lanyards, bending to tie a boot as he slips it over his head. Smooth.

Straightening has him grabbed at the wrists, and for a moment, it looks like Bahb may be pinched. But instead, someone's dragging him forward, yelling something in Bocce and almost causing Bahb to drop the package under his elbow. "Hey, I don't speak th- What language is that? I don't speak that language!" The frenetic pulling and yelling, overshadowed by the announcing voice of one Guto Phlu, ends when they spill out onto the track and the figure points to a swoop. Then points to Bahb's lanyard. Then back to the swoop. "Ohhhhh. Whoa now. That's not my-" Confession? "That's not my... Usual one. I don't think I can drive this. There's been a mixup. I'll just go straighten it ou-"

The figure pushes him toward the swoop under the Phlu's call for racers to vehicles and, out of instinct and preservation, the Mon Cal's leg loops up and over. The hood-wearing being pushes Bahb's ignition and runs off the track. Looking around at the other racers, mouth wide open.

"Oh... Oh no." He pulls the package tighter under his elbow.

Brother Bizz Bliptettjupp is racing today, for the children. He removes his holy robes revealing a very tight Corellian swoopsuit in loud neon colors. Maybe the Ugnaught got it as a loaner, or maybe he bought it when he was a size smaller, but it accentuates his generous beer belly. The short monk of Jedha mounts his Nightfalcon speederbike, starting it with a kick.

Meanwhile inside the casino a few of his orphans are in the audience section cheering. Some of them are doing an educational cloud car ride, but Miriala the little green Mirialan, Blelaila the Twi'lek, Padmini in a cardboard Mandalorian helmet, and Shimsa in her scavenger costume are sharing some salamander fries and watching the dangerous swooprace. For the moment the children are unattended, but Cloud City is safe, right?

Mandl, windowless helmet a massive sensor-studded fishbowl ready to be plugged into their nearby vehicle, raises a royal hand. They play the part of the People's Champion, this go, and to drive the point home: "Good people of Cloud City, it is my distinct honor to race this B'rot Amalgamated Salvage and Refining vehicle in your name and carrying your indomitable spirit! I--" the rest of their speech is probably cut off.

She just can't stay away, really. Her first swoop race proved to be creatively fruitful so Ulani finds herself drawn towards the next one. The fact that it's being held on Bespin only adds to the intrigue. This is her first time to the gaseous planet and she is almost late -- again. This time because she was busy staring out into the endless expanse of clouds and daydreaming.

Locating Aryn in the stands, Ulani is stopped only briefly by security before she is recognized and let to pass. "Oh, thank you kindly, Ser." The royal guard does offer a slight grin and a dip of his head, then returns to his stiffened stance after Ulani passes. "Your Highness." A practiced curtsey first. A funny sight in her work clothes but the effort is made all the more genuine.

Tovi steps out in her gold swoopsuit with its teal markings, lifting her hands into the air - one holding her helmet with its strange tattoos in reverse of those gold on teal upon her face. She blows a kiss into the crowd and winks, if its for someon ein particular its hard to tell. She turns about, changing her stride to carry her backwards as she waves her hands and thrusts her helmet into the air. Her mauve hair is pulled back, tied neatly at the back of her head in a wound braid.

Stepping up beside her swoop, in its gold brilliance she smiles still at the crowd as she give sit a long once over, checking systems before she slides into the seat with a graceful leg over and sits as she lifts her helmet, drawing it down over her head. She catches the sight of Nery sand lifts her hand in greeting to her and Bitty before she makes note of what seems to be an impromptu racer.

A curious tilt of her head in that direction lasts only a second before she focuses back on her controls, getting the swoop started so she can let the engine warm and ready.

The orphans in the stand left in place by Brother Bizz Bliptettjupp are not alone and unattended for more than a span of a second when a dark-haired woman in simple garb moves into their sphere and becomes their watchful guardian. Chani Tahn ensures they all have their preferred snack and choice of beverage for viewing the race and then settles into her own seat, careful gaze always cast over them every few seconds to ensure that the orphans are all remaining seated and enjoying the spectacle that is about to go off before the grandstands. The swoop bikes are getting ready to start the race and Chani makes motion with the handheld display towards the orphans when a shot of Brother Bizz comes into view and they are able to get a closeup of him as he prepares to race in his eye-achingly colored swoopsuit.

Vega's not in the stands, but she is down where the swoop racers are given she's one of the mechanics that have been signed on. The white haired woman has her hair plaited back into two long braids that fall down her back. Her outer robes have been carefully folded and stashed away, leaving her in black pants, boots and a lavendar top that is fitted so it doesn't get caught in any of the wires or tubes on the racers that she's taking care of. "Just watch your sensors when you start the race, if it goes above that number," she points to the note she's made, "Pull out. Easy right?" she chuckles. "May the Force be with you." she tells them before she's heading back to check another reading on her datapad.

Aryn Cortess was within another private block suite with amenities available to watch the race by monitor when it became too difficult to see from this vantage. The sound was dampened as well, replaced with classy music and the gentle clatter of guests in the suite ordering beverages while staff tended to them. Aryn is in one of the seats when Ulani arrives and makes it by the guards. Her address is given a wave in return, and a gesture toward one of the seats. "Come, Mistress Ulani, join me. Wine?" Aryn is already holding her glass up for a member of the team to pour some of the rare vintage.

Fae Renta moves through the stands at a... slow pace. A quizzically slow pace, really. She's peering out at the black void from behind a pair of black aviator sunglasses, which is a cursed sort of fashion decision for a girl from Hapes. She looks good, though. Those big sunglasses. That jacket that seems to just be hanging off her shoulders. Her blonde hair in a perfect mess atop her head, being tossed by the wind. She's carrying a purse on her left arm and a little basket filled with fried dough and cheese in the other. There's a drink with a straw that she reaches for and misses entirely, thanks to the shades. Just... wraps her lips around empty air.

"Rrrrrgh," she protests, and swivels around to look to see if anyone saw. Not that she can see. She jumps at the sound of the engines starting. She leans over, feeling about for an empty seat. Oh. A gentleman's knee. A lady's knee. An empty seat! Fae smiles vaguely in the direction of both and then plops her bottom down on that empty seat. Her attention turns once more in the direction of the racetrack. She's able to pop one of those dough balls into her mouth and chew-chew-chew with a dumb smile on her face. She might be blind as a bat, but at least she's got deep fried cheese.

The crowd outside the Credit Pirate Casino is a /hive/ of activity, this event drawing a sea of sentients far beyond that which normally frequences its hundreds of clusters of chance games, sabacc tables, and even a handful of towering jubilee wheels. That background din of excited winners, less-thrilled losers, and animated race-goers is easily dominated by Gutu Phlu as the Gran calls the racers to their vehicles.

Khalim has been making his way back out towards the stands, his pockets a tad bit lighter (those Hot Slots machines have their own credit-attracting gravity fields), and a to-go cup of something chilled and light-gold in hand. He manages to secure one of a few open seats, his good eye taking in one of the massive holo-displays broadcasting the day's events. The other is covered, today, by an eyepatch of teal and royal blue. A glimmer settles behind singular dark brown as racers meet their steeds, and the teal-hued visage of one Wroonian speed-addict in particular draws his expression into a little smile. A good day to race, and win.

Settled in at his sequestered, private booth for the festivities, Fyrris reclines with drink in hand, tabac stick in the other and the lower hands folded before him on the table while his butler droid hovers nearby. Though not literally, the droid is on two feet with bottle service ready in a chiller bucket.

"Caddie?" "Yes sir?" "No delays on refreshment today?" "None sir." "Fantastic."

Eyes to the various display screens, the Codru smiles to himself and scootches down in his eat to properly 'slum it'.

"RACERS! START YOUR ENGINES!"

The starting location of the race is revealed to be where the swoops have been relegated for initial service, maintenance and other checks before the race itself. Worker droids moving quickly to push aside equipment and slide away panel walls to allow the racers to get themselves positioned at the starting blocks. Lights change from bright, stark, work lighting to riots of undulating colours and a starting line.

"READY!"

The casino erupts again in excitement and throughout Cloud City lights extinguish and deflector shield systems designed to protect more sensitive sections engage. Windows and doors opening behind them to give those within a better view of what is about to happen. Gutu points to the screens as if the racers can see him, shaking with excitement. On the race track Otho and Yu'Nasa share words before the ranat spits at the Sanyassan and Sebulba waits for Nerys to have him in suspected peripherals before giving her a fairly uncouth hand gesture.

"SET!"

All lights at the starting point go out, plunging the racers in darkness before red sweeps past them, then gold, then red again, mixing and swirling with the work only holoprojectors can manage. The mixture becoming like fire as it expediates before Gutu's voice comes again.

"GO"

A glowing green tunnel of holographics and spotlights opens before the racers at Gutu's declaration of the start - sending the racers out, at first, into the bright skies of sunny Bespin and into the initial straightaway.

When someone sits down sharply right next to him, Tarq's glance is not friendly. He just says, "Am waiting for someone. Keep mov- ooh." He has caught a whiff of the fried cheese. "May sit here, but is tariff." He tosses a ball of fried dough and cheese up in the air once. Were his hands even anywhere near that basket of Fae's? Evidently. "Tarq Najjic welcomes you and your snacks to his section."

He reaches over to feel her knee. "Is how your people say hello, yes?" Your people, the blind people who insist on wearing sunglasses. See, he was paying attention as she approached.

He's wearing an outfit of Naboo robes of red and white that have been tailored to be snug. It's kind of 'houserobe chic', complimented by a heavy golden necklace. His legs are crossed at the ankle. "What is your name, fellow race fan?"

Nerys, alas, was paying very little attention to Sebulba, as she waited for the race to begin, eyes cast down for a final check of the swoop and its controls, before the lightshow began. Bitty, however, had a keen eye on the competition, and as soon as she caught sight of Tovani, her eye flashed, and she stuck out a three fingered hand, giving her favourite racer a thumbs up, whether she saw it or not. Sebulba got both hands though, both rude and unapologetic, before the hands were sucked back in lest the g-forces tear her poor arms off. Nerys, of course, paid no mind to the droid and her antics, as she hit the throttle on the swoop, the racer darting out and away from the starting line and upward into the straightaway. This was the easy part. But Bespin could be deceptive.

Mandl had no one to wish ill, yet. They were plainly focused on doing well for their "team," the business and leisure sector of Bespin itself! Tearing into the sunse-- is it sunset already?! Depending on how fast you were moving, it could _always_ be sunset! Trick question! Their swoop fires forward along the course, engine *wib-wib-wibbing* neutrally... for now...

Introductions finished, Ulani settles into her seat and sips at the drink she had bought on the way in. The datapad is kept away today. Last time she missed a great deal of the race because she was too busy drawing up design ideas and making notes. No, today she is going to watch and do her best not to get distracted. "How thrilling driving one of those must be. There's a rush in an X-wing, sure, but you don't exactly get to feel the wind in your hair, either."

As the racers take off, Ulani does her best to follow the action. She quickly finds out that such a task is far more difficult that it sounds on paper, so she looks up at the screens which host all varieties of stats and highlights. Ah, much better.

Everything is going wrong. This was just supposed to be a dropoff. As things begin to look like a real actual swooprace, the Mon Cal's panic grows. "Wait, this is... HEY!" He knows that guy. Mandl, isn't it? "MANDL! DOC MANDL! This is all a misunderstanding. I'm not supposed to be here, right? I should just-" Bahb starts to hit the ignition and get clear of the racetrack, the hooded figure shows the very noticeable butt of a blaster pistol and points down the track. Panic! "Just... start believing in myself!" Bahb looks to the lights just as everything goes dark. Not Set.

"I'm not ready for this, I can't-" GO! Lights flash on and Bahb shoots forward. Or, that was the plan. But if you throw yourself at the throttle, sometimes it... Falls off the swoop's handle. "Oh... Oh junker, that's bad." The figure starts to draw the pistol, and Bahb leans forward, grabbing the fallen throttle and holding it tight in his hand as he squeezes it. Always keep two hands on the steering, folks. Bahb runs directly into one of the walls and scrapes several layers of paint off the swoop with a nails-on-chalkboard sound.

Brother Bizz is fingering through a string of unetiwood prayer beads, muttering prayers. "The FORCE is with me... The FORCE is with me... I take refuge in the mantras, I take refuge in the FORCE." Then the racers are off! His bike gives a high-pitched WHEEEEE-HOOOOOOOOOOM as it blasts off from the starting point into the sunny skies of Cloud City. Bizz is a bright purple streak.

The orphans cheer when Bizz takes off! Miriala the little green Mirialan turns and says to Chani, "Miss Chani, isn't racing dangerous?" What will Chani say?

Jallo makes his way into the stands to watch the race slowly weaving through the seats until he finds a vacant area to settle into. The ID-10 droid perched on his shoulder reading off anything that would require eyes, "Is there a decent place to get a good drink around here?" Question tossed out to anybody nearby that would bother answer.

Keeping the handheld display up for the children to either side of her to view, Chani's chin dips and turns towards the Mirialan girl. "There are a lot of things that can be dangerous, Miri. Brother Bizz is wearing all his safety equipment for the race and he's had a lot of practice. When you act as safe as you can and you practice at something, it takes some of the danger away. Let's cheer him on, okay?" Another round of checks has Chani's dark hair spilling over one shoulder and then the next, eyes surveying to ensure that the children still have their snacks and their drinks. She looks beyond them, assessing the area immediately around her and the sentients just around her for the brief span of a few seconds. Her attention turns back towards the race and the initial rush of racers looking for the lead.

"Delightful!" the best part, really. That initial buzz of the drivers taking off and the scream of the engines. Granted the roar is piped in, never as loud as it is on the track. But then that's also a good thing, fewer plugs needed for the ears in this regard.

He has plugs in anyway.

Sipping his drink and blowing smoke from his nostrils the codru is keeping a fixed neutral expression while looking from screen to screen and lifting his glass to be refilled.

"Mr. Vochar?" "Yes, Caddie?" Fyrris's brow lifts and his glance is for the butler droid. "Did you bet on him again?" "Why do you ask?" "Reasons..." the droids trailing comment gaining a 'Hmmmmmmm' expression from him

Vega gives a look from the bull pen of mechanics and the Jedi takes notice of the one that's had a stall problem. The white haired woman jumps over the rail and runs out to quickly help the racer get going. A swat is given to the back of the swoop and she chuckles, "Get going!" the Echani shouts in a good natured way before she's heading back to the mechanics pool.

The Wroonian adjusts her seated position as their clear and present announcer gets things underway. A long breath released fogs her visor for a second before it clears. She checks over the fuel, the gear and more so that when the final cry goes out she hits the throttle but something goes wrong. She slides to the side and the pull of the force draws the controls one way just on the weight of her body repositioning itself. It sends her towards the side of the tunnel with a sharp brush and causes her bike to angle.

Tovi barely holds on, a gasp leaving her as she redirects her bike last minute, managing to stay in the race by the skin of her teeth, falling behind the others but with a determination born of stubborn focus.

"I got this. Shake off the rust."

Fae Renta cannot see Tarq Najjic's unfriendly face, but she does hear his voice. The Hapan woman turns to give the man a look of pure incredulity, as if he should be -thankful- that she chose to sit next to him and steal the spot of his friend. Still chewing, she has an opportunity to think of a few barbed words to needle him with. They never quite make it out of her mouth, though. By the time she's swallowing, Tarq is helping himself to one of her fried cheese balls and Fae is moving that little Tray away from him so that he can't snag another.

The pat to her knee makes her tip her head down to look at it. Beat. Then turn her head back towards Tarq to purse her lips.

"No. That was an accident," she says flatly, but does offer the top of his hand a couple pat-pats before gently relocating it from her knee.

"I'm Fae. And you are... Tarq Najjic? I think it'd be pretty weird if you weren't," she says, and then finally takes off her sunglasses so that she can actually see. Her pupils constrict and she squints at the sudden harsh light, but they seem to adjust fairly quickly.

"Hey, nice robe," she offers.

Did she just....no. Did she? No. Pausing outside the archway of a concessions nook, Netep stares after particular spot in the ever-shifting stream of bodies between self and stands until a less than friendly bump from behind gives her cause to move along.

Those are some bony fingers pattin' at her back there, and she'd rather not put a face to the act, lest the eye contact get weird. With a 'Beldon Blast' in hand (tall, fluted glass filled with foul-colored beverage and green gooey pearls, made appetizing by the alcohol content alone) the fancied spacer/racer/wanderer resumes her original course. To find a seat!

Not on a swoop, this time. Or the last couple times, as her absence would've made obvious. Following /last/ injury, she's...taking a breather. Or something. Doesn't mean she can't root for her former competitors, though.

Muri blows a shrill whistle through her fingers, contributing to the din.

The straightaway turns into a shallow curve that weaves through the streets outside of the major structures of Cloud City, no lights or lasers but the high winds of the gas giant whip across the raceway to run straight through an explosion of glitter particulates thick as a Hoth snowstorm, enveloping the riders in a haze that allows for them to hear swoops nearing, but vision to be limited. Giving bare seconds to catch sight of oncoming obstacles placed in the race lane or risk impact.

"Gentlebeings don't forget that when headed through Hutt Space to visit the Pazaak and Tabac, the provider of much of your entertainment food and drink!" Gutu declares as he circles his dais with his arms spread, "Where the party never stops! In fact, the party has been going since the first run of this seasons races!"

A sharp turn takes the racers into the city, through a primary thoroughfare and market space beneath a glittering transparisteel dome and holoprojectors that might normally display advertisements and announcements, but at this time throw images of Beldon soaring through the raceway while the guidelights direct the racers deeper into the city itself.

"I have been in both. The state my hair is in after is not to be desired. The rush is one of a kind, however. Lord Ban has a swoop of his own that he takes out to the countryside. Occasionally, he will allow me to join him." Aryn recounts, lifting her wine for a dainty sip as everything gets off to a good start.

Some of these swoop races have their danger advertised in the most obvious manner: the maws of hungry sarlacc pits and bands of anti-social tusken raiders communicate their own hazard quite clearly. Cloud City? The danger goes beyond the physical obstacles these facers are now beginning to navigate, as beyond this curve and that stretch of deflector shielded raceway exists... nothing, really. Molecules of valuable gasses represented by tufting clouds. No ground to speak of, as the world and its atmosphere simply... become more dense... hundreds (perhaps even thousands) of kilometers below.

Khalim poorly hides a look of alarm that slides across pear-hued features as one racer in particular is drawn into a brief over-correction that nearly brings her into contact with the wall. He relaxes as she does, Tovi's bike stabilizing back into a run down that first stretch. The Mirialan's drink is raised, sip commenced, when... *shrill wistle*

Whether out of recognition or ear-pain, the source of that that shrill call is spotted, and Khalim is up and shifting over. They'd been perhaps a half dozen seats separated. As he sits once again, the Mirialan's singular gaze shifts from his own simple ale to the Beldon Blast held in he own hand. "You not planning on walking home under your own power I see."

"Does he?" Ulani looks away from the racers -- the first time of many times she shall today, no doubt -- and turns slightly in her seat towards Aryn, "Do you think he'd let me come along sometime, too? I don't think I---" She stops. Thinks. Then Ulani's cornflower blue eyes get wide as a realization, a memory, slaps her across the face. "Oh! There was this /one/ time I was on a swoop bike at ridiculously high speeds. And we were being chased. But... ah... I don't think I'm supposed to talk about it."

No. No, she's definitely not supposed to talk about it so Ulani busies herself with the glass of wine being handed to her and takes a sip of it to keep her big mouth shut. "This from your father's vineyards, as well, Princess? Or do you like to try to local flavours?"

A late arrival is hardly going to be noticed in this crowded, busy casino. Even if he is dressed head to toe in heavy black Mandalorian armor and kitted out. One presumes either Bespin security has sealed his weapons to render the lethal ones temporarily unusuable, or he's here hunting a bounty and likely agreed not to use any lethal force if or when he finds his quarry. Whatever the case the Mandalorian enters and slowly makes his way through the casino, looking for a space that he may view the on going swoop racing.

Quit, easy and slow in his movements, Hahtavi's T-slit visor turns subtly as he takes in the many beings packed in here. He is polite, pausing to wait and allow others to move through his own path, patient until there is an opening between others that he may slip past. There are occasional pauses to observe the various games being played - or to scan the faces to see if one will match a certain ID.

Then a moment later the Mandalorian moves on slowly.

The swoop came skimming out of the straightaway, with Nerys still on it. This was a bonus, as the swoop now dove into the cloud cover, the street, obstacles and potential buildings popping up like oddly angular aquatic animals in a waterless sea of cloud waves. This was no jump the sarlacc pit, or try to avoid being shot by tuskens, but it brought with it it's own challenges, as Nerys maneuvered by sound more than vision, the swoop screaming as she banked hard, only just managing to avoid slamming into dangling holoprojector. A good thing, surely. No on wanted a chance to ogle free shots of dancers at the casino. Free temptation best temptation.

Giabahb the unwitting racer is about to pull the nose away when an Echani leaps the barricade and closes the distance to the swoop still sparking and leaving paint down the wall. Deft hands slap that throttle right back into place with some sort of magic touch (or very sticky tape) and the conveyance is given the yeehaw send-off. "Oh hey, tha-" Before he can finish a proper thank you, the throttle squeezes itself and the Mon Cal is thrown back in his seat as the nose pulls up. "Oh nonono no nono." Despite his best words of soothing, the swoop is taking off. "ACK-" he manages to gawp before lunging forward, putting the nose back down and looking like a flying wedge as he comes around the corner into the city.

The swoop weaves around a few jutting out signs perfectly at whack-you-in-the-face height, ducking down anyway as he continues to chicken-wing the package under his elbow. If there is a close-up of his face, it probably looks like it's glitched, because his mouth is frozen in a rictus yell as the swoop continues to accelerate.

Bizz is near the tail end of the pack, like some kind of Ben Quadinaros or something. His driving style is middle-of-the-road aggressive on the unfamiliar course, shifting up with a HEE-WHEEEEEE sound, blowing past Otho in front of him and totally hover-washing his forward steering vanes. He zooms forward like a purple streak in that gaudy swoopsuit.

Shimsa in her scavenger costume chimes in. "Yeah but if Brother Bizz flies off his bike, won't he fall down into the clouds? It's a LONG way. We took the Cloud Car tour and SAW." Blelaila the Twi'lek asks innocently of Chani Tahn, "Miss Chani can we get Bespin Fizzes? Brother Bizz says they are VERY refreshing." She doesn't mention that they are alcoholic. Maybe Chani isn't hip to the drink menu!

Here on a small mission, Rey caught wind of a race ongoing. She appears near the top of one of the seating, observation areas. Dressed in white clothing that matches the decor of Cloud City, she blends in well. Her hood is up, gently flowing in the wind around her face as her eyes take in the sights and sounds of it all. Her arms are mostly bare, so she folds her forearms across her stomach, the tabbards of her clothing sweeping wildly around her legs, as she walks as close to the railing over the audience section, as she can get.

The young woman's eyes dart around, watching the racers she can visibly see, while scanning the crowd too... taking in the spectacle of it all...

"The track won't let him fall down into the clouds, Shimsa," Chani reassures the young girl speaking excitedlyl about the tour they'd taken. Blelaila's question earns a double take from the young Naboo native. "No, Blelaila. Those are good drinks for children. They'll make you sick. Brother Bizz told me what drinks you're allowed to have, and that's the ones we have to stick to." Her head is on a constant swivel, dark hair in its tall tail flicking side to side whenever her attention has to shift from one side to the next. "It's important we're very careful, right? Bizz needs all our effort cheering for him so that he can concentrate and try to win the race." Chani's rapid flick towards the display in hand and then the board showing the positions of the racers definitely speak to Bizz needing all the help he can get at this point in the race against the others.

Oh! An initial stall-out! Fyrris laces the fingers of his lower par and looking to all of the assembled peoples,

"It's so loud." "Why so you come?" "Sass." "Yes sir, reducing sass levels."

Sheesh. The codru looks skywards and back to the races again with his fixed look to conceal whatever excitement, lack thereof, or inbetween might be there. At least until he sips his drink and gives a bit of a happy-butt waggle dance in his seat. Also delightful.

The race continues on but, as expected, Ulani is a tad distracted. To her, this is a lovely chance to spend some time with Aryn when she's not absconded in Court duties or whatever else mystical things keep her busy. Glancing away from the screens, Ulani scans the crowd of the casino idly. There are a few familiar faces amongst a sea of strangers. Taking a sip of her wine, the young red-headed woman seems content to--

Choke on her wine.

A sharp inhale sends the liquid down the wrong pipe and Ulani is gripped in a violent, paniced coughing fit. "It's him!"

Mandl, having made no major mishaps, is merely left with 'resting Bith face' about their position-- but among such skilled competitors, who can complain? Shoving thrusters, bypassing overdrives, modulating control-surfaces! It's a lot! Arms working frantically as reports scroll into their holo-helmet, they work to maintain! Must-- edge-- forward !!!

Vega gives a thumb up to Bahb once she's back where the other mechanics are, "Come on new guy!" the Echani calls out, trying to encourage them. Maybe this was their first race ever? But that didn't mean they couldn't recover from a bumpy start. She rolls up her sleeves and then leans back against the ledge to watch and keep track of what racers might need their assistance.

"I go for local labels when I can. This is something from the casino, I believe. It has a nice taste, and I may inquire about grabbing a few bottles for my collection. Do you like it?" Aryn asks, glancing over with a smile. She didn't carry on the talk about swoops and adventures, though. Ulani said she wasn't supposed to talk about it.

The pair are joined by other nobles from other regions and locations, not just Alderaan, who have come to share and gossip about court. Old money recognized old money was the age-old saying, and aristocracy was the same no matter where one traveled. Aryn and Ulani, for the most part, remain unbothered by the other well dressed visitors.

The golden swoop with its Wroonian rider makes a solid comeback once she regains control of the speeder. Blaster Path is written on the front of it across the gold surface in bright blue. As the lights pass over her, causing the gold suit and swoop to shimme rand shine in the green afterglow she starts to pull ahead, manuvering herself between the others and managing to gain some ground - thankfully.

She pulls back on the throttle slowly opening up the speed so that she does not have a repeat of those first few moments. Tovani ducks low and close to her bike, trying to cut down on the force of the wind blazing past and over her. Ahead in the lead she can make out Nerys and Bitty, aiming for them as her goal.

There are a few words in her native tongue as she sweeps around another opponent.

"Walking's overrated," Netep misses the unfortunate Mon Cal's accidental launch into the race as she sliiiiiiides by some knees and simply wedges herself in alongside the Mirialan familiar. "I plan on takin' a cue from the Beldons or airsquids or some such and just floatin' right on outta here..." She lands there with a clatter of beads, bangles, and baubles. And a slurp. Burp.

"See? Already halfway there. So." Khalim gets an elbow softly to the ribs. "Who you've got your credits on, eh?"

Rook has been lingering near the casino's entrance for the first portion of the race, the young human dressed in her usual assortment of uninspired blacks. A synthleather jacket has been zipped closed, with the collar turned upward to obscure the ink on her neck. Her hair has been dragged into a braid at the nape of her neck, the long plait left plain where it rests against her back. A small metal flask is held in one hand, and a black vape cartridge in the other, the double-fisted vices traded out with no semblance of restraint.

A vendor approaches Rey from her right, offering her some of the food it had prepared. She smiles at it, but shakes her head softly, saying something to them in response that is mostly lost amongst the noise of the race, and audience. She does, however, offer the vendor a few credits though without taking anything from them, and begins to step down along the railing, her eyes watching the race as she finds a place out of the wind to stand and observe more comfortably now.

The Mandalorian in the black armor stops not /too/ far from where Ulani and Aryn are seated. He keeps apart from others, tipping his helmed visor slightly to track the racers many are avidly watching as they make their laps through Cloud City. His gloved hands have come to rest on a railing, the right hand missing the smallest finger. If he is aware of others taking note of himself in the crowded casino, thus far he pays them no mind. Yet.

A server almost bumps into Hahtavi. The Twi'lek does a double take, backs up a step and then gives the Mando a wide berth with her tray of drinks and food.

360 degree optics in his HUD display show him all manner of beings moving around the casino, or seated enjoying their gambling, meals, or conversations. There /are/ some familiar faces in the crowd that he might take note of, if Hahtavi should happen to brush past them. Hard to tell where the Mandalorian's attention is focused.

Its another race day, and Kasia is interested enough in seeing how it turns out that she's decided to attend again. She has her customary bag of things that include snacks and drinks inside, because it pays to be prepared for all situations. Especially those that require snacks. She adjusts the bag on her shoulder and scoots her way through the seats until she reaches an open one, then drops into it, bag set in her lap so its in the optimal position of snack accessibility and assurance that her tings won't be stolen.

"We're getting to the meat and tubers of it now GENTLEBEINGS!" Gutu declares with arms lifted and a number of dancers hanging off of him for the time needed to get a grip and lift him onto their shoulders to parade around. "It's a party, like the sort you can experience if you hire Shim Productions for your next festivity! Shim Productions promises a party that their great great grand children will speak of!"

The route banks hard clockwise and at an incline that would give even professional runners pause. They're back in Bespin's sunlight and confetti is raining down thick as fog - threatening to obscure the guide lights and the narrow ramp that has been erected around one of Cloud City's spires. Wide enough for, barely, two swoops aside and to the left hand side of the curve it's a long drop down.

Sebulba is hollaring insults and Yu'Nasa is hurling debris from her swoop at others who get near, fists shaken and names called while the path climbs higher and higher into the vapors that pass.

"/Thank/ you." Complimenting what Tarq wears will get you anywhere. "Nice - to /meet/ you, Fae." He looks back at the racers blasting off from the starting point and carrying on, dodging walls and deflectors. And the one racer who did not get a good start. "Mmm. Recognize him." He stares a little harder. "Is carrying package? Something is- hmm."

He tells Fae, "We are cheering for Giabahb, because he is /hopeless/. Is romantic, yes?"

Fae blinks and turns her attention up to the screen that's focused on Giabahb. "Ah, he does look a little hopeless, doesn't he?" Fae offers, and then pops another one of those fried cheese balls into her mouth. Her eyes narrow a little bit as she attempts to discern the thing tucked beneath Bahb's arm, but the resolution is too low to make out what, exactly, it is. She gives a soft hmmmm and then a shrug. After a moment or two longer, she leans that little carton of cheese balls back in Tarq's direction in offering.

She settles into that purloined spot rather comfortably. So comfortably, in fact, that she kicks her legs over the armrest and tucks her toes under Tarq's leg. They're cold, too. She doesn't even look at him, either. It's like she just expects a stranger to warm her toes for her.

As they cleared the cityscape, and headed up the ramp, Nerys got a much better view of the competitors who were close to her. A flash of vents nearly sent her off the edge of the ramp entirely, but Nerys was wise to the Dug's games, and part of her anticipated the interference, and one of her feet kicked out, just to show the Dug what was coming for him if he tried to actually grab anything on her swoop. Snap his old arm bones like twigs, she would. While it was not a perfect recovery, as Sebulba sped ahead and she fell behind, it was still on track, and Nerys gunned the accelerator, moving to attempt to catch up with the pack. Winning was never really the endgame for the Greystorm. Beating that old bag of fermented guts was.

Bizz sure could use a couple refreshing Bespin Fizzes right now. He's bringing up the rear! The holy monk shifts into a higher gear and gets aggressive, muscling his banged-up speederbike through the ramp with a HOOOOOOOOOOOM sound.

Little Shimsa with her stick and tattered scavenger costume eats a salamander fry while looking around. She spots Rey NoLastName from afar. "Miss Chani, doesn't that look like Master Rey?" Padmini in the cardboard Mandalorian helmet scoffs. "Master Rey can't come to Cloud City, she's got important things to do. Right Miss Chani?" But Shimsa visually scans Rey NoLastName for that bedazzled fannypack she gifted her last year. Maybe she's wearing it despite being disguised!

Giabahb is getting the hang of this. And this isn't a bad view - you probably don't get to drive around Cloud City normally. Not this way, at any rate. The rictus fear turns into a hesitant-then-growing laugh as the Mon Cal raises up a hand and offers up a might YAWP to the- confetti flies into his mouth, leaving the Mon Cal coughing up a storm, doubling over the handlebars and only catching the package with his knee. Bahb's in some definite trouble as he slowly banks along up the ramp, tears in his eyes further obscuring the guiding lines.

He definitely didn't sign up for this.

Ulani's sudden outburst alarms Aryn, slightly, her brow raising in a questioning stare. "Who is it you see, Mistress Ulani?" Aryn does not rise up because she is not eager to draw more attention to their booth. Her wine is set aside safely, the glass secured on a table and away from the risk of being tipped over like one of Lofty's fizzyglug cans.

Watching the Ranat getting jetwashed by Bizz is enough to make Fyrris sputter and spit out his drink while he is laughing - his butler droid looking distinctly embarrassed at the display while using a kerchief to clean things up.

"Really sir." "Yes, really. And look at that work from Sebulba against Nerys, I wonder if they're just going to fistfight at the end of the circuit this year." "Maybe use knives?" "Oh! Yes. Use knives. I hope for that, better betting odds." "Of course, sir." "You're my favorite, Caddie." one hand goes up to offer 'bones' to the droid who bumps his metal knuckles against his master's flesh and blood. "Thank you, sir."

Mandl hasn't *finished* a race in some time, but that may've been mentioned in the part of their pre-race speech that was interrupted for commercials. That's their primary angle-- do well for Cloud City! Make Bespin proud! Don't go out in a column of oily smoke and streamers of fire! As their grip tightens on the accelerator their focus increases evermore!

This time Tovani is ready. Ready for that sharp turn as others engage with each other around her. Focused on the path ahead rather than tipping her competitors off the current path she hits the breaks as it were and moves into an angled slide before she feels herself align. In that moment her hand pulls back and she opens the throttle which only serves to shoot her foreward suddenly, lurching the nose of her bik up in the air for a five seconds. It lowers back down after the initial punch of speed as the Wroonian starts to gain more ground.

There is a certain elation in the edge of her adrenaline running through her veins. She can feel the air near the front which holds far less exhaust from her competitors who are now ranking behind her. Her helmet turns and the visor notes Sebulba and Nerys entangled. "Sithspit...pain in the neck dug."

Vega's grey gaze is paying attention to the race for the moment, focused to see who might be out first or who might find themselves in trouble. She's not a miracle worker, she can only fix small problems. If someones engine drops out she's not going to be able to do much. Her gaze drifts up to the stands to see all in attendance, noting some of the known faces as she tugs off her mechanics gloves for the moment.

There are some faces that are marked in his head's up display to track - people he actually knows. And there are some people like Rook that merely gain his study because /something/ about her catches his eye to linger upon her. Hahtavi's attention however eventually is caught by a voice his audio pickup indentifies for him even with so many people in the immediate area. Fae's. The voicematch turns his head, then his entire body. The Mandalorian begins to descend and make his way slowly back across the huge casino. How he could possibly pick her voice out is only possible because he ended up rather near by her by complete coincidence.

There she is, with Tarq of all people. Hahtavi stops and actually reaches up a gloved hand to break the seal on his buy'ce. The helmet gets clipped to his utility belt. It reveals a familiar scarred face. "Fae, Tarq. Enjoying the races?" His baritone has to be raised a little to be heard over the background noise of so many conversations, the swoop bikes racing outside the casino, and all else.

"Rey? I don't know, Shimsa." Chani cranes around in her chair, slipping towards one edge of the seat so she can twist at the waist and look back and up over her shoulder in the crowd. Her eyes dart rapidly, looking for familiar flashes of the colors she associates with the woman. Browns. Creams. There's someone in white with their hood up. "I don't think it's her, Padmini. She's doing very important things. Let's just watch the race. If it's her, we shouldn't bother her anyway." Chani slips her hand up and motions with a finger pressed up and across her lips in the universal indication of being quiet. "Because if it is, she could be doing something important right here!" Her voice lowers, casting her statement as if it's a secret between them. "We wouldn't want to mess up her secret mission, would we?"

Muri doesn't receive an immediate reply, Khalim's manta-pear hued visage captured again by the giant holo that dominates the stands. Tovani is caught by the holo-lenses as her golden swoop stabilizes and begins to make ground. "That's it," the Mirialan says in response to a burn that tightens up yet more distance. He points and finally does answer, "Tovani Enno. A contingency sum on Nerys, just in case." A quick sidelong glance is sent the Lorrdian's way, accompanied by a grin, as he adds, "Would have been a third bet but someone has decided to race the stands, rather than the swoops."

It's a coughing fit for the ages: wine down the trachea and burning the whole way and back again. With enough sense to step her glass down before it falls from her grasp and breaks, Ulani turns her head away from Aryn -- to be polite -- and coughs heavily into the back of her hand. With the other, she extends a hand out -- pointing over towards a hard-to-miss Mandalorian stalking through the crowds.

"He's one of the bounty hunters that attacked Lord Bors and I on New Alderaan." Her voice is lowered and also incredibly raspy from the wine churning in her lungs.

With a sigh Jallo just continues with the watching of the race having given up the idea of a good drink and retaining his seat he instead shifts his full attention to the race and the chaos going on out there. "That Sebulba is always playin dirty it's amazing that he hasn't gotten a bounty from other racers at this point."

At the apex of the spiral all of Bespin seems visible for the racers once they crest the artificial hill and scream across the narrow raceway down to one of the slanted, smooth, sides of the city exterior and into a continued clockwise loop that passes viewports and weaves around vent opens or transfer pipes.

"Gentlebeings, remember when you're headed back for the core worlds or your preferred section of rim make sure to visit The Hapan Silk Exchange. Today's fashion choices aren't just brought to you by The Hapan Silk Exchange, TODAYS fashions are -ONLY- found at the Hapan Silk Exchange! Now lets watch these racers go!" The ratan Otho is hunkered low on her swoop as she tries to squeak around the sides of other racers.

The looping run turns sharply again into the city, into a commercial zone with wide concourses and centralized fountain and garden squares that force the racers into banking and weaving sweeps that experience the Sanyassan Yu'Nasa trying to find opportunities to sideswipe and Sebulba attempting to vent jetwash over competitors.

Ah, if only drawing the focus of a bounty hunter were an admirable character trait. If Rook notices Hahtavi's attention, the white-haired human is doing an admirable job of pretending otherwise. In truth, that seems to be her mentality toward the event as a whole. There's no feigned attempt at socialization this time around, just that wound-so-tight-she-could-snap tension through her shoulders and jaw, as too-bright eyes scan the crowd rather than the actual race track.

The thing about watching Nerys race, was that one soon discovered that she had never little in the way of a desire for self preservation. Despite the setback she had suffered at Sebulba's hand, she still raced hell bent for leather, as the racers dove back into the city proper and her swoop skimmed and soared in and out of the obstacles the city presented. A near miss saw her banking off of a fountain head, but it was not enough to pitch her off the swoop or send her crashing to her eventual and possibly inevitable demise. Still in it!

Having coughed up about 18 grams of confetti - one through the gills, painfully enough - Giabahb comes round the curve back into the city with tears streaming down his face. He clearly is done with this whole race thing and he doesn't want to be here anymore. The only thing stopping him from, well, stopping, is the memory of the hooded figure with the blaster. It's not his fault if the swoop breaks, right? The Mon Cal guns the throttle open and starts accelerating for the nearest fountain, narrowly weaving around it when his nerve is lost at the last moment. "Shoot," he mutters, aiming for the next, only to narrowly miss it. "Darn it!" And so the concourse goes. A series of near-misses, not on purpose.

Mandl perhaps had the wrong genes mixed, or the stars were incorrectly aligned as they gestated. 'Everyone pushes it to the limit?' They push it to the limit. If their progenitors have access to the HoloNet, perhaps even as Mandl is hurled free of their vehicle (which spirals down in a column of black smoke, spitting flames) they are asking as we watch: "If everyone jumped off a cliff, would you jump as well?!" Wise words, Mandl's parents, wise words...

Go big or go home! All the racers here are trying to vy for places with every intention to win. Right now it seems Tovani is either lucky or wants it more. Maybe both. As they slip into the commercial district with its avenues and sharp turn, Tovi executes a full on drifting slide once more. Hitting her reverse instead of break. It brings her nose about and as she guns it, she pushes forward as her bike leaps into the air, skimming over the edge of a fountain and sending a light spray of water in her wake as the heat from her engines washes backwards and on the unfortunate Bizz.

The Wroonian glances back before aimng her bike forward, angling to edge Yunasa out of first. The gold swoop reflects lights here and there, offering a light show of sorts but more like skipping fleeting blips at the speed she starts to gather.

"Might've stretched my schedule a bit thin, of late..." Muri mutters around another sloooooooorp of the Blast, then almost shoots it back out her nose when an ad for HAPAN SILK EXCHANGE blares from the speakers. It's strange, experiencing the circuit from this side of the track! That's her excuse.

"I've sunk mine on Ner-yyyEEEAHHH!" And up she pops, a little slosh of Beldon Blast baptismal for everyone around as Muri's hands go straight up in the air.

Vega sees that things are going about as well as they can for the moment. So the woman gives a look up towards where there are vendors hawking their wares. She pulls herself up to the rail and waves one down to get a drink before she is disappearing back down with the other mechanics to see who is doing what.

"We are!" Fae declares for Tarq. Apparently they are both enjoying the races. She smiles over to Hahtavi and untucks her feet from beneath Tarq's legs. She slides them back into the tennis shoes she'd walked in here on and turns to point up towards the viewscreen showing Bahb barely managing to survive his accidental first foray into the world of high speed racing. "We're rooting for this guy and also trying to figure out what he's carrying. I don't really think he's supposed to be here, but he hasn't died yet," Fae says.

She turns her attention back to Hahtavi for a moment, and then her nose wrinkles. Something about seeing his face makes her remember something, because her eyes shoot open.

"Oh god! I forgot I was supposed to call Sumi when I got here," she says. She reaches out to use Hahtavi's arm to pull herself from her seat and scamper away, leaving a vacant seat beside Tarq for his friend to return to. How nice.

"ItwasnicetomeetyouTarqNajjic!" Fae says over her shoulder.

Hahtavi Kora says, "I've sunk mine on Ner-yyyEEEAHHH!" And up she pops, a little slosh of Beldon Blast baptismal for everyone around as Muri's hands go straight up in the air."

Brother Bizz is getting very aggressive trying to close in on the top spot. But Tovani's jetwash ahead of him makes his steering vanes stiff. Down the narrow raceway he goes with a HHHOOOOOOOOOOOOM sound. Then the TURN. He banks but Sebulba, right behind him, smashes into his steering vane! "You dirty Dug!" Brother Bizz is on a collision course with the central fountain, about to slam into a statuary of Lord Ecclessis Figg of Corellia, but the FORCE is with him. His steering vane unfreezes at the right moment, and he does an Ewok-style loop-de-loop before righting himself and speeding down the track!

Rey's eyes follow the speeders as they make their bid for top spot. She keeps close to the structure beside her that nearly matches the same hue of color as her own clothing does. She lifts one hand up to adjust her hood atop her head, before she crosses her arms again over her stomach. She winces at some of the action visible on the screens, the danger of it all sending chills through her, but the sounds of the crowds clearly indicates how the onlookers are loving every minute of it!

Back in the stands, the orphans are all leering at disguised Rey NoLastname, trying to see if it is indeed Rey. Then it is back to the speeder race and they collectively gasp as Brother Bizz almost hits the Figg statue.

He takes another fried cheese dough ball from Rey's bowl. "Thank - you. Generosity tastes as good as stealing." A little white lie: nothing tastes as good as stolen food. Tarq glances up at Hahtavi and wiggles his fingers. "Welcome. Am rooting for hindmost. Giahbab. Ohh-" As Mandl's swoop goes up in flames and crashes, he covers his mouth. "Oh, no."

He scans the holos and screens until he sees the Bith was not still riding the vehicle and takes a deep breath. "Well... at least is alive. Fool Bith." He pats Fae's old seat. "/Bye, Fae/! Tarq Najjic already misses you!" He reaches out to steal a dough ball and then realizes they're gone. "Miss you even /more./ Hahtavi, sit if you wish. Think Giabahb is still worst of those /not/ crashed."

"Oh my, well hopefully your bounty has come off their list of concerns.. and I daresay they would be a fool to try to nab you now. Relax.. try to enjoy yourself. Surely, it was not personal, was it?" Aryn has turned her attention fully to Ulani, sharing in the woman's alarm but trying to inject a bit of calm into the situation.

Fae grabbing his arm to haul herself up gets a startled look from the armored Mandalorian. Hahtavi starts to say something even as she's dashing away, "I have a datapad here you could use..." it is inset into his armor along the inside of his right arm she'd grabbed hold of. "No need to dash off to make your call." But, too late. She's gone, slim elegant blonde slipping away like a silvery fish into the crowd.

Tarq's comments gain a careful study of Rey briefly - but almost at once cause the scarred up Mandalorian to look in the direction of the wreck. Nope, no idea that's someone out there racing and wrecking that he actually knows.

A softly huffed breath and Hahtavi takes Fae's abandoned seat next to Tarq and close by Rey, whom he doesn't know. Quite unaware of poor Ulani having a mini heart attack at having caught sight of himself. "Who's winning?"

"HERE THEY COME GENTLEBEINGS! THIS IS AMAZING! WE HAVE TWO TIES ON THE TRACK! A FIRST IN SWOOP CIRCUIT HISTORY!!!"

The weaving course banks hard once more and tunnels familiar when bringing the racers were bringing their machines envelope them in chasing lights and explosions of confetti and glitter bound to coat them for days and days afterwards, no matter how many sonic showers they take.

"THE END OF THE SECOND CHAMPIONSHIP RACE IS COMING!"

Despite the familiarity, there have been new 'additions' added to the track. Solid pillars have raised up with block panels between them. Ray shield obstacles and more keeping the final run a full straightaway for the checkered line that is visible even at a distance due to the holoprojections ahead. The sound of the crowd within the Credit Pirate Casino is now playing on internal speakers surrounding the race area. Forcing the competitors to compete while near deafened by the roar going over even the engine noises.

Ulani is slouching, so uncouth, in her seat. Trying to make herself smaller with her head hunched between her shoulders. "He helped drag me back to Kuat," the woman reveals. "If it weren't for... friends... I would still be trapped there. Maybe it wasn't personal to him, but it was sure as sugar personal to me." To say her mood has soured would be an understatement. Ulani's demeanor has shrunk into itself and she's certainly a bit more pale than before.

And her throat is burning so bad. Delicious wine still does not belong in the chest cavity. "I'd rather not recall that whole ordeal. Forgive me for the outburst, Your Highness." The droidsmith forces herself to look up at the screens trying to find some new interest in the race.

Rey takes a moment to scan the crowd again, and spots Chani with the Orphan children. She has a smile cross her lips as she unfolds her arms, and starts to walk along the concourse edge toward a vendor selling small racer pod toys. Rey spends a moment buying several, exchanging credits with the vendor before she holds the toys in her arms and starts to walk back the way she'd come from. She spots a Mandalorian eying her, and she just /eyes/ the figure back before she looks back toward where the Orphans are...

She settles back in to the corner she was hiding from the wind at, clutching those racing toys against her stomach now.

And now they were at the end, and Nerys pushed the engines into the red line as she screeched along the course, her hair, had she not been wearing a helmet, surely would have been streaming in the breeze like a fiery wave. Well, the racer nearly did what her hair could not, as she dove to avoid one of the other racers and nearly plastered herself against one of the shield obstacles, the sound of screaming metal ripping through the air as her swoop rode the shield like a bubble of water skipping off a hot pan before she pulled clear and dove back down into the race. Go big or go home, indeed.

There's no mistaking Nora Frayus' voice.

"Well of course I'm allowed in! What do I look like, a street urchin? Ahahaha! Mmmmh," she says to the two royal guards outside of Aryn Cortess' Princess Box. It's not actually called the Princess Box, because phrasing, but it certainly is Princessy in size and vibe. There are posh ladies drinking wine in fancy outfits, after all. The two guards look to one another with a bit of uncertainty, before Nora simply pushes her way past the two with an annoyed grunt.

"Your grace! I am sorry to be late, but if you must know, I was out -shopping-," she says, as evidenced by the shopping bag hanging off of her left arm. Whatever is in it, it doesn't look to weigh very much or take up much space. "You would think that a city built in the sky would have a more whimsical take on fashion, but I am afraid to say I was less than impressed with the offerings. Maybe I found the -- oh, hi Miss Kalgaav -- what was I saying?"

Nora sets herself down on one of the chairs overlooking the crowd and swivels her head in an attempt to reorient herself. "And who is winning the match?"

Almost out of here. He must be. It's just... SO LOUD. The attempted self-sabotage has done very little, and the race is continuing according to design, not plan. As the noise continues, Giabahb steers the swoop forward, just trying to keep his head from exploding. A particularly loud shout brings both of the Mon Calamari's hands up to cover some of the sound before hearing damage can set in. Steerless, the swoop begins to career around the course. "Oh NO!" The package, no longer chicken-winged to his side, falls, and Bahb immediately pulls around, stopping in the middle of the race to climb down and pick it up. He looks it over for signs of dents or damage, dusts it off, then... Waves to the crowd! He gets back on the swoop and continues making his gentle way to the finish line.

Nothing suspicious to see here! Mon Cal weaves as he must, but doesn't make any moves to close the gap on anyone but the hooded figure who threw him on the swoop in the first place. Probably.

Vega reaches out and smacks one of the other mechanics in the back of the head after they state something crude in Huttese about someone that was on the track and proceeds to tell them why it's not a good idea. Apparently others understand the language.

Rey glances down at the racer toys that she clutches against her stomach, then she looks up again to the race, only her eyes slip shut. Her white hood flutters against the sides of her face in the wind coming around the structure she's tucked up against, and as she stands there, her lips softly move, speaking a word in a near-whisper amongst all the chaos.

A second later and the racer toys fly up out of the young woman's embrace, caught in a gail force wind? They shoot up in to the sky and tumble toward the audience stands in front of the hooded woman!

A long arch, and the toys all tumble down toward the orphans where they spread apart and all land in the laps of the children, safely and comfortably the toys are delivered, but from where??

Obviously he's not one of those uber conservative Mando'ade who never ever removes his helmet around people. All the same it's a heck of a crowd and now he's said his greeting to Tarq and Fae, Hahtavi puts his bucket back on over his head. Probably no snipers in this crowd wanting to blow his head off, but you never know when you are a man who hunts people for money. Tarq will understand about Mando fashion accessories.

Hahtavi's attention is upon the race mostly since it looks like it's about to end. At least stay long enough to see who wins it ere he continues on his own business in this city.

Kasia is dressed nicely enough to look like she belongs in a box, and occasionally she is, but not today. Today she's down in the stands with regular folks, eating small purple crisps from a container inside the bag in her lap. Every so often she idly brushes crumbs off while watching the race. She's near enough to where Rey has stationed herself to spot the flying toys, but not the person responsible for it, so she watches the little things with a moment of fascination. "They made those fly now? That must've been expensive."

That blared ad for the HAPAN SILK EXHANGE draws Khalim's eye as it draws Muri's ear, and the Mirialan pat-pat-pats at Muri's back in resonse to that nose-blast of goopy green liquor. But the race, it ain't over, and his gaze returns to action shots of the race's double tie as Muri shoots up, her drink fountaining around her. Tovi and Yu'Nasa, head to head, are juxtiposed with Bizz and Nerys, cheers escaping Khalim as the final stretch is reached and he rises as well. His drink, however, does not fountain. It has a lid.

There is a certain level of tension as they enter the last leg filled with obstacles and then some. "Joy..." she remarks to herself. Tovani glances aside at the racer now moving neck and neck with her. "I do not think so..." Even if Yu'nasa can not here her she telegraphs her intentions with a sudden angled twist that sets her bike wobbling just slightly but aims to cut off the contender and force the other driver into a series of pillars. This leaves Tovani having to content with a few Ray shields and it comes with a lean outwards on her bike ot help with the turns, knee coming close to the ground as she skims and twists, a few drifts around this and that as she keeps up her speed for the most part.

Its when she sees a final pillar ahead of her fitted next to a shield with a narrow gap. To go around the other side would be wasting itme so she aims right for it before pulling hard on the handles of her bike.

The whole bike whips around in a 360 to clear the staggered opening before her bike finally faces forwards once more. The gold suited Wroonian guns it. Guns it and prays.

When the finish line is passed it erupts into holographic explosions of green and blue. In the casino the crowd is cheering or calling out in dismay for the winnings or losings at the betting stations. Gutu has been set down by the dancers and all of them are jumping and turning about like a great undulating automata upon the dais.

With the face of SEBULBA appearing over the finish line, followed by YU'NASA and TOVANI below and to either side of their visage. Those same faces begin appearing throughout the casino with names scrolling on readout bars and highlights of all of the racers runs going up throughout every public space of Cloud City.

"GENTLEBEINGS, LETS HEAR IT FOR OUR CHAMPIONSHIP RACERS! WHAT A COMPETITION! WHAT A DISPLAY! WHAT A WAY TO PREPARE US FOR CHAMPIONSHIP RACE THREE, HAPPENING ON ONE OF THE MOST FAMOUS RIM WORLDS OF THE LAST FORTY YEARS!" the crowd's cheering momentary lulls in curiosity. "Discovered twice, first by independent scouts Briqualon and Weet - then by the Towani family!! THAT'S RIGHT GENTLEBEINGS! BE READY FOR THE THIRD CHAMPIONSHIP RACE: EMPEROR'S FALL ON THE SANCTUARY MOON OF ENDOR!"

"Please forgive me. I know very little about what you have been through and I certainly do not mean to patronize. I believe you are safe with me, though, so I hope any fear about this situation abates." Aryn reaches out to lightly pat Ulani's hand in a show of solidarity hoping to convey comfort. Aryn's concerned look turns out toward the crowd and she takes on a more studious stare, scanning now for danger, where ever it may lurk.

Ah, the finish. Always glad to make it right? Nerys certainly was, given the poor showing she had had through certain sections of the race's course. Still, she did finished, and her swoop skimmed to a half as she banked off of one of the enclosure walls for the repair yard. Ah, the racers top three. One drew a frown, the others not at all. There would be time enough to bring that one down. And if all else failed, she knew a guy who knew a guy. Who did not mind breaking bones. At her back, Bitty shot both arms up, cheering for her favourite racer. Spoiler alert: It was not Nerys.

Cringing visably, Ulani is quick to put her hand over Aryn's and nods. "I didn't take it as an offense, Your Highness. It's a thing of the past. I just hadn't expected to ever see either of them again, to be honest." Another pat and a small smile. "Really. I'm okay. And I very much appreciate the warm words."

Nora's entrance is a burst of energy, to say the least, and it helps to blow away the dark little cloud that was trying to swallow the whole little area where they sit. "Ah! Lady Nora! I see you fully embrace the concept of 'fashionably late.' The race is almost over!"

As Bahb rolls up to the finish line, dead last, a familiar figure stands out, being it's the only one still back here while crowds have moved up to congratulate the real winners. "Look, hey, I tried-" The figure starts to draw the blaster again, and the Mon Calamari called Giabahb hits the ignition to drop the swoop hard on the ground. He tumbles out the other side, still carrying the package as he runs across the track and hurdles the barricade ungracefully on the other side.

"You got the wrong guy-" He can be seen shouting when the feed following the unfortunate Mon Cal cuts out. Is he alright? Only those still on foot will know!

Nora Frayus blinks at Ulani and Aryn. Her mouth opens, and then it closes. Did she just... barrel her way into a sensitive conversation? Aryn's light hand-patting and serious crowd scanning has Nora peeking out amongst the crowd once more. She sets that Hapan Silk Exchange bag down beside her and reaches out to mirror Aryn's gentle pat-pat-pat of Ulani's hand. For some reason, it probably doesn't feel quite as comforting when Nora does it.

"Ah, yes dear," she says, having no real idea of what they're talking about. Improvising! "And if anyone should be so foolish as to try and make it past our guard, they will have to contend with Her Grace and myself," she says. It might sound terribly silly if you don't know she's got a knife strapped to her thigh.

Ulani's having a bit of fun at Lady Nora's expense, but Nora takes it on the chin and laughs. "This is a race? By the Mother, I thought this was another shockboxing match," she says, and then gives a rather pointed look in Aryn's direction.

"I am surprised her highness is not on the racetrack herself," she singsongs.

Bouncing out of his seat and cheering, his cool lost again, Fyrris is dancing with C4 now - much to the droid's dismay. "HAH! HAHAHAH! Dark Fathier!!!" it's an amazing day for Mr. Vochar.

"We should have him put the bar logo on his swoop." "Sir he's a notorious cheat and aggressively poor sport." "But he's WINNING." "I don't understand organics."

Fyrris is dancing again - the bottle claimed from the droid's hand and upended down his gullet in a wild display of joyous gluttony.

Aryn is drawn from her focus at the airy voice of her childhood friend, Nora. Aryn turns to look at her, catching the pointed expression aimed her way. She scoffs, "None seem that injured that might require my aid.." Said in a mocked-annoyed manner, shaking her head. "Thankfully, the staff manning this one are far more informed on /who/ should be on the tracks, unlike the shockboxing match that saw me against that.. that.." Aryn looks away, shuddering, "..thing. Ugh."

Ulani's apology is accepted, but nothing further is added on it for the sake of her privacy. Nora spoke true sentiment enough, as it was, and Aryn deemed her own words insufficient enough to yield more comfort. Instead, she lightly squeezes Ulani's hand and smiles.

Vega gives a chuckle when the race is over, that means her work will start to sky rocket. At least it keeps her on her toes. The Echani gives a look over some of the swoops that roll back in and she shakes her head, "Well, we're in for a long night on some of these." she mentions to some of the other mechanics as she hops the rail and heads for her tool kit.

Bizz finishes the race. Not in the top three, but he hasn't done swoop racing in a long time. The little fat monk does a fist-pump in his tight swoopsuit and dismounts his old speeder bike, awkwardly donning his holy Jedhan robes again. There is a short repulsor ride back to the Credit Pirate Casino to meet his orphans.

The orphans all cheer as Bizz finishes the race. Then toys fall in their laps and they cheer again, surprised. "Miss Chani, toys fell in our laps!" says Blelaila the Twi'lek. "I hope they aren't covered in germs," says Padmini in her cardboard Mandalorian helmet.

Up go Tarq's arms as he rises to his feet. "He finished! He- wait, is that gun? What is-" If this were the stands, the Kuati might have the option of rushing down to the track and checking whether his favored-for-the-moment racer is getting the drek kicked out of him, or shot, or something. Instead he's left with nothing. He pulls out a datapad, and quickly becomes engrossed in hunting down footage of Giahbahb. His absorption is nigh-total, unless someone literally shoves him or grabs him.

With the race finishing up, Rey watches the orphans react to the toys with a little grin crossing her expression. She then looks up to the screens, showing the racers up and close. Her hands rise up to the edges of her hood, and she turns toward a small gap in the buildings to start her departure. She turns her shoulders and slips away around a corner, her clothing's long tabards sweeping out to the side in the wind rushing across her form as she goes.

Ulani gives Aryn's hand a squeeze and then Nora, too. Why not? "You were in the shock boxing? My... you /are/ far more adventurous than I would have thought! That must have been an amazing experience. Perhaps some time when my duties allow, we can go to that moon together. I'm told it's incredibly dangerous so I've never been." And honestly, Ulani has no reason to go to Nar Shaddaa save for curiousity's sake. But that's more than enough reason. "Be the oddest Girls' Night Out."

Tovani had prayed, prayed and come out from around some of the obstacles with the finish line ahead ...as well as Sebulba and Yu'nasa. There is a series of sharp words below her breath as she tries to strain the engine of her golden bike, leaning into it to at least catch up. But as the other two scream across the finish line she is right behind and letting out a long breath, tension causing her arms to shake some as she slows her bike, moving off to the side as she claims third in the race. "Where did that dug come from...pain in the neck." It's a repeated mantra.

The Wroonian reaches her hands up to remove her helmet, tugging it off her head to a frayed crown of mauve braids. She lets out a breath and draws on in, letting the heat and adrenaline wash off of her. She is still a good sport and pushes up to stand on her bike and waves her helmet in the air, her other hand doing the same as she bows to the crowd. She hops down and starts heading for the exit, shooting Selbulba a look before she starts to search for Nerys.

"Eyyy, not bad results, that. Poor Dr B'rot, though, hey?" Netep drops back into her seat as the finale plays out and final fanfare explodes a new wave of chaos through the stands. "So. Endor...might be up for a little camping excursion fer that one." *SLURP*

Still in one piece, Nerys, having brought the swoop to a half, stepped down from the vehicle, reaching back to pat the droid on her back, as if to make certain Bitty had not escaped the confined of harness and maglock to desert her for better pastures. "Let's see if we can go find Mandl. Hopefully, he's still in one piece." If he wasn't, there would be hell to pay. The pair made no attempt to stay for the cameras, which were thankfully, not on them, as they moved to exit stage right. A strident chirp from Bitty brought her steps to a halt as she turned to step towards Tovani, "Nice work on the track," she offered, once they were in something less than screaming distance.

"I can see that!" Chani is not so suspect as the children when it comes to the sudden appearance of toys. Perhaps Shimsa had been right. "Everyone hold onto them tight. Let's all get together in a single file. We're going to leave and go find Brother Bizz so we can congratulate him on finishing the race. Make sure everyone holds each other's hands, okay? We don't want to get separated." Standing in place, Chani organizes the orphans ahead of her in a single file line and after ensuring that they are all linked together, begins to lead them out of the places they'd been seated. She counts as they go, ensuring that ALL of the orphans are grouped together and none have been left behind in their seats. Lots of other sentients file out, chattering about the race and the upcoming one that's next in the series.

As bikes scream over that finish line, Khalim takes note of placements. Tovani fights for position, a hair behind Sebulba and Yu'nasa, and a hand shoots into the air in a whooping celebratory yell. Third was third, earned through hard driving in the Wroonian's case.

The Mirialan stands, and head nods towards the finish line a few hundred meters away for Muri's benefit. "Let's make a few congratulations." Securing his drink, still somehow mostly full, he takes the first step down the aisle but looks back to the Lorrdian as he does so. "Endor," he says, a hint of curiosity evident. "Camping excursion. Why do I have the feeling this isn't a possibility, but rather the navicomp is already preplotted and the insect netting sutting in neatly stacked boxes."

"Thanks, you too. Where did that dug come from? I think next time we need to make a concerted effort to bump him off the track. End all our suffering." Tovani offers with a cheeking grin, helmet tucked und her arm. "I hope the racer that we lost back there is okay..." She remarks and glances aside and back behind her as his speeder is presently missing. "What we do is not exactly safe. But as always it is good to see you." The genuine intonation remains as Tovani smiles at the other woman. "Its time to go find out what exactly happened to the racer and get out of this suit. I swear it just is made to create a swamp in the nooks and crannies of the garment."