Log:Inter-Rim Swoop Championships: Pamarthe
Inter-Rim Swoop Championships: Pamarthe
OOC Date: April 16 2022
Location: Pamarthe
Participants: Nerys Greystorm, Vega, Kael Greystorm, Xyomara, Xavier Harcourt, [Fyrris Vochar]], Bizz Bliptettjupp, Hahtavi Kora, Manco Raveen, Mandl, Zavr Drick and Reverberate as GM
"GENTLEBEINGS!" Gutu Phlu erupts from a platform set in the middle of a platform on the forward end of the massive observation deck surveying the storm soaked stony outcrop below. Deflector screens likewise protecting the starting point and the small tents where the racers have, momentary, protection from the rains of Pamarthe.
"WE HAVE ARRIVED WHERE WE'VE ALL BEEN ANTICIPATING!" A modified gallofree turned into an entertainment barge, transparisteel floors with ion-sweepers keeping it dirt free and seating mounted up in risers on the bulkhead allowing all to gaze down, or up at the massive holodisplays throughout.
Anti-grav bubbles allow dancers of many race and gender to gyrate and put on a display while they float around the mobile deck capable of housing thousands to watch the spectacle.
"THE CHAMPIONSHIP IS HERE!" The Gran in fine suit and shaders turns on his platform, one arm outstretched. "WELCOME TO THE INTER-RIM SWOOP CIRCUIT CHAMPIONSHIP RACE!" holo-pyrotechnics engage, glitter and confetti all over like a snowstorm in rainbow colors. "TODAY. WE CROWN OUR RACING CHAMPION OF THE CIRCUIT! TODAY WE SEE HISTORY MADE BY SKILL AND REFLEX!"
The stony outcrop, an islet barely a half kilometer at its widest is flooded by lights that turn the rains and mist to electric radiance that fills the space in flashing, whirling, hues with only the starting point remaining relatively dry within the mag-con deflectors.
"RACERS TO YOUR VEHICLES!" The crowd roars and the spectator barge shakes in the winds of the storm, shields blazing cerulean when lightning strikes.
Nerys, who had been waiting at the edge of the rider's corral, looked up as the announcement for the beginning of the race came across the broadcast, and she pushed away from the edge and started towards her vehicle. Bitty, as usual, was strapped to her back and the pair made their way, first, towards Mandl, where the droid and driver offered fistbumps to the Bithness, before they continued on, Nerys settling in on the swoop, the machine vibrating as it powered up and she made her way to the starting line.
Dressed in a swoop suit, helmet on, visor down the tall form of Kael takes a deep breath as he gets ready to head out to the swoop he's going to be racing on a quick glance stolen towards Nerys then over towards Mandl and a deep breath as he gets onto the swoop starting it up and then keying up on the comms, "So Nerys don't beat me up too much if I do well yeah?"
Dressed in a swoop suit, helmet on, visor down the tall form of Kael takes a deep breath as he gets ready to head out to the swoop he's going to be racing on a quick glance stolen towards Nerys then over towards Mandl and a deep breath as he gets onto the swoop starting it up and then keying up on the comms, "So Nerys don't beat me up too much if I do well yeah?"
Zavr Drick gives a long-suffering sigh and a roll of his eyes, possibly out of view of Xyo. "Right, right. Because why should we be comfortable and have some nice, cool water running around between our toes. Our *feetsies*, Xyo. Which means no boots! Someone might," he gasps, "see your pale blue toes!" He angles away from the dock, thinking better, perhaps, of being near the monster infested, presumably, waters. Plus he doubts he'll get those boots off so why bother?!
"And you're here to see crazy people doing crazy stuff! Like getting on tiny, very fast engines... in the rain!" he hadn't noticed the rain before now and he has regrets! But there's a barge and he starts to drag Xyo towards it, quickly now, looking to get a nice seat in the risers. As the racers gather, he gives Xyo a light nudge with his elbow, "Oo, it starts soon!"
Xavier lingering off to the side with Selbulba's crew, casually leaning on the other side of the partition and chatting up the head mechanic. "Surprised he's still alive, quite frankly," the dark-haired man is in the middle of saying, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke wherever it may go.
"You an' me both," the porty crew member chortles, but only after making sure Selbulba is heading to his swoop and well out of earshot. "These races have been fair dinkum insane. But he seems to love 'em, eh?"
"That he does." Xavier flicks the ash from the end of his stick and cants his head in the racer's direction. "What's life without a certain measure of danger, mmm?"
"Eeeeh. If ya ask me, I think retirement would be more fitting than an explosive death, mate."
A grin pulls at Xavier's lips. "To each their own, I suppose."
Seated in his sponsor's box, Fyrris reclines with drink in hand, smoke in the corner of his mouth and butler droid to one side of him and even a little stool to rest his feet on. As is proper.
"I tell you, C4, this might not possibly get any better?" "I could think of several ways." "None that matter." "Not to you, no." "See?"
The droid shakes its half-dome head and leans to refill the codru-ji's glass, gaining a glass raised in toast that only elicits another shake of the head that sets the four armed figure to chuckling, keeping the mag-con shield in place to keep glitter out of his drink.
"A dancer or two." "Or the twins?" "The twins, yeah; they haven't had a night off." "They prefer the club." "They're weird-os." "Of course, sir."
Another sip of his drink and an adjustment of his readouts once the gran starts yelling for racers to mount up.
Xyomara blinks "Of course. Our feet. In water." she agrees. As if that made sense "At least those suits are keeping people warm. Unlike yours." she deadpans towards her pink company, pulling the collar of her overcoat up
Brother Bizz brought his reed-and-sedge hat just in case there was rain. He is waddling down to his seat on the giant converted Gallofree ship, having stopped at the concession to get a munchie tray. It includes a dollop of fermented Porthomer eel roe with fungus crackers, a Yobshrimp cocktail, raw oysters with Balmorran vinegar, and the famous Pamarthian Port in a Storm fortified wine in a coconut. "Oh this should be a good one!"
Vega's where she is usually, down with the other mechanics who are working on the swoops before the race and trying to make sure their pilots don't become paste. The white haired woman is currently fixing a bundle of wires that someone tried to soder together themselves, a knife is taken to them, stripping the mangled ends from them. "Going to murder whoever did this." she mutters to herself as she gets them all even and then wires them together and tucks them in carefully, "Alright, good to go!" she calls to the pilot before she's heading off to see if anyone else needs last minute repairs...or prayers.
Always in for a bit of sport, Manco Raveen arrives later rather than never to the festivities. His spurs both jingle and jangle as he finds his way to a suitable viewing location. He is pleased as punch that he hasn't missed any of the contest, the be-armored Mandalorian making his way to have a seat next to Bizz, offering the Ugnaut a dip of his bucketed head.
The swoop races are always a very popular and draw a large crowd at every event. But the Championship races even more so! So many people .. so even more showing up is hardly going to draw notice. Even another Mandalorian.
This one is garbed in black armor with coppery thin accents that some here will find familiar. Jetpack and weapons, the Kora bounty hunter takes his time to find a decent viewing location. The T-visor of his helmet's optics can zoom inn on the racers at a distance or he may view one of the close up zoomboards broadcasting the race.
The breeze coming in off of the sea is most pleasant. Hahtavi lingers at the edge of one of the stands of seating. After a moment he turns his helmet and scans the crowd - for familiar faces perhaps, or he could be running facial recognition software for a bounty.
"Today's galactic broadcast of the The Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit CHAMPIONSHIP is brought to you by The Pazaak and TabAC of Nar Shaddaa! Gambling, fine cigarra, tabac sticks and music to while your night away in style!" lightning strikes near the starting point and droids with lights, cameras, or race-marker indicators descend from the massive transport hovering above - industrial grade anti-grav, shield and repulsor systems keeping them from being outright destroyed while they do so, "RACERS START YOUR ENGINES!!!"
Streamers and confetti are released from bomb-bay doors aft of the observation blister, allowed to fall and be turned into a whirling riot by the high winds, hurtling onward across the starting line, sweeping over the racers. Yu'Nasa and Otho sharing words and gestures in the mix while Sebulba is set to laughing when the Sanyassan is choked by a hand full of glitter blown into her mouth.
"RACERS READY!"
More dazzling lights and lasers taking advantage of the mist and fog to draw lines in the air, aiding the droids in drawing the track lines while displaying racer names, stats, and sponsor logos en masse.
"GET SET!"
A laugh and a point to Yu'Nasa from both Otho and Sebulba who both receive foul gestures before the lights all turn blazing bright green and the ship engines rumble to begin following the swoopers while Gutu cries out,
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"I can't beat you up too much, Kael, I only brought half of my weapons." Nerys' voice was bright and cheery, though Bitty head swiveling, turned to take in the arrival of her great nemesis. And Nerys'. And everyone else's. Once Nerys was settled, and Bitty has simmered down, checking the straps of her harness, the pair waited for the signal to begin. When it came, she charged ahead. Or tried to, but such was the rented speeder life that the engine kicked and coughed, and some quick adjustments were needed, before the engine would start again. And then she was off! In last place, but off. The beginning didn't matter, only the end.
Mandl didn't have a live feed of Nerys' thoughts, despite the size and neon-studded electronic whiz-bangery of their enormous eyeless helmet. So it is just as well they did not hear the First Lady of Swoops pontificate that beginnings are meaningless, as they fire like a determined bullet from a noir detective-style gun on this storm-shrouded evening! They slide forward at bowel-rattling speed, ducking between raindrops and dodging to the beat of thunderclaps, eyes on the prize...
Kael chuckles as he settles on the swoop waiting for the signal to go... "Oh that's good then! I might survive another night." And at Go he throttles the swoop up taking off from the line glancing back once to make sure Nerys wasn't well dead on the starting line but then his focus goes completely in front of him and the racers that he must overtake to earn the ire of somebody!
Zavr Drick nods at Xyo, "Exactly. Feet, in water. Like a bath." He lifts his eyes to the screens, watching, though his nose is drawn to Bizz's snacks! "Oh man, we shoulda brought some munchies. I only thought to bring a drink." The fruity thing in question is downed by one more sip. "Oh, that person has theirs in a coconut. Convenient!"
As the racers get ready, Zav leans forward, protected from the rain by the fields over the gallofree but suddenly his brows lift and his eyes twinkle and he twists towards Xyo, hitting her with the big, soulful, purple eyes, "Y'know what, Cirri, I actually *am* rather cold..." He crosses his arms across his damply t-shirted chest, "Maybe you'd be willing to put your big, warm coat over my shoulders?" Pitifully the Zeltron leans towards her, though the loud 'Goooo' tears his attention in two! "Oof, rough start for that one. At least they didn't explode, though." As she stands out, he keeps his eyes between Xyo and Nerys now, picking his race favorite through random chance!
Bizz squirts some vinegar on his raw oysters and was just about to have a bite when Mango Raveen comes clomping down in his armor. "Oh, hullo." He scoots over to the left, taking care not to disrupt the smörgåsbord of food and drink items in the munchie box on his lap. "It's shaping up to be quite a race today!" He picks up a raw oyster and slurps down the salty meat with a SLUUUURP.
"Personally I'm glad they went for the observation craft. This would be a nightmare out in the open." Fyrris chuckles, watching the swoops take off, glass lifting again and settling back in his plush seat, "If could we could get you something that'd let you appreciate tactile comforts."
"I enjoy the regular oil baths. They feel good." "I wonder how similar thar sensation is to organic." "I would like to think it identical." "I'll drink to that." "Very courteous of you, sir." the droid rests its empty hand on its chest to give a bow that Fyrris waves off, "Now now... Ease up. I pay you, don't I?" "Accurate... I suppose. It is a quandary."
The Codru gives no verbal answer to that, only a half-grin and a side eye. And then the racers are off! A little jolt that is quickly reigned in. Appearances and all.
Together Xavier and the pit crew team lead -- Rost -- watches the official beginning of the championship race. Engines roar, gestures are rude, and swoops tear across the starting line and into the fray. Having seen this rigmarole, the two men watch passively as the heart-pounding theatrics sound off.
"How's the wife?" Idle chatter from Xavier who is still dressed like a desert-crawling denizen. "She in the stands for this one?"
"Naw. She's from here, eh? Currently visiting her sister-in-law. I can't stand the harpy, mind." Rost quickly looks over his shoulder as if fearing said harpy would materialize into existance; conjured by word alone.
"Rather be subjected to loud noises and noxious fumes?"
Rost laughs heartily, his gut still bouncing well after he is done. "That's my sister-in-law but at least here I can drink." Speaking of which, he produces a flask and twists the cap off, lifting it into the air. "To excuses."
Xavier draws another pull from his cigarette and chuckles soundlessly. "Indeed."
Xyomara blinks "And a bath is a private affair." she offers in a tone as if explaining to a 5-year-old "And weren't you just claiming I were way too warm? Now, I feel I might be cold myself without it." she muses, just a tiniest hint of emotion in her voice "Now, how are the results of the previous races? Who holds the overall lead in points, Mister Zavr?"
Vega hops up onto one of the benches where the mechanics hang out and starts to put tools back in their right place. She didn't want to just shove them back in the pack. Everything had its spot. She gives a loud cheer as the swoops take off, but her voice is drowned out by the sound of it. Which given the vacinity isn't a surprise. There is a glint of something on the track, her eyes then go to one of the Jawa that was there and she motions to them, speaking in their tongue. It causes a bit of a ruckus, but one of them edges out to collect whatever shiny was left out on the course. Hopefully it didn't belong on a swoop.
"Embarassing," Manco comments on Nerys's less than graceful start. His hands rest between his legs and clasp together, the man's back straight as a board as he sits there next to the diminutive alien.
"Oysters are natural aphrodisiacs," Manco offers by way of conversation to Bizz.
His attention is stolen away, however, by the arrival of the other Mandalorian, his visor centering on the man as he looks him over for any clan markers he might recognize.
Zavr Drick gives a snap of his finger as his masterful ruse to get Xyo out of that stuffy hot uniform coat fails... maybe. "I mean, I'm sure you'd be fine. All that time on various oceans I'm sure you're used to a little chill, rainy wind. Me, I'm just a lil mechanic, spent my life in engine compartments, no acclimation to the fierce weather." Yeah this lie is in a bacta tank with a terrible prognosis but he tries it anyway. Hopefully she ignores his jump suit sleeves still tied around his waist.
"Who's the points leader? No idea. I'm just here for the sound of the engines and the potential to watch *others* get into hopefully non-lethal mayhem, remember? Uh, the one I watched on Dantooine had a Cathar lady named Th'endar Khait winning. Them two," he points to Nerys and Mandl on the view screens, "were there, though, and raced. Neither got second place." At least he's pretty sure.
Anti-Grav systems engage as the racers clear the edge of the starting island, quite literally shooting the swoops out into the raceway which is little more than markers in the fog above the tumultuous seas of Pamarthe below. Above the Circuit's observation cruiser keeps distance while allowing the crowd their chance to watch the race live through magni-screens that zoom on different racers around centralized, unmodified, view areas.
"GENTLEBEINGS! We're in for some first rate excitement, the Pamarthe weather service reported that there are high chances of rogue waves and class one waterspouts where our racers will be today! We'll see how well our racers handle it for themselves! There's almost no ground to fall back on today! LOSE YOUR SWOOP AND FALL UPWARDS OF TWENTY METERS TO THE CHURNING SEA BELOW AND A NERVOUS WAIT FOR RESCUE CRAFT! Those same rescue craft constructed with components milled at B'rot Salvage & Ores: The Choice of A New Generation!"
The pathway snakes into an archipelago of islets no bigger than five meters across and most far smaller. But they jut from the sea on stalks of sedimentary stone that has been eroded and seem to sway with the force of the winds and waves. Raceway guides dive directly into this forest of stone boles, like a petrified forest awaiting its chance to become a grave.
Xyomara raises an eyebrow "I think I saw a heater somewhere..." she offers, before pulling a woollen, black cap from the inside of her coat "But maybe this helps, just a bit."
And they are off! The swoop race kicks off and draws the Kora's attention for a bit. As he knows several of the drivers and even sponsors a swoop racer who isn't here today, Hahtavi must have some interest. He stands at the railing as the race gets under way.
After a few minutes, his attention goes back to the stands. This section holds a few familiar faces. Even another Mandalorian in among those gathered here. A faint nod of his buy'ce to Manco. Bizz is noted next to that one, and Zavr and also in the stands. Eventually he moves down the rail and closer to the general direction of Bizz, Manco, and incidentally Zavr and group as well.
Most of his attention seems to be on the racing - but it's hard to tell when a helmet can have a 360 degree optical view in one's HUD.
Better late than never. That was Nerys motto today, as she shook off the initial false start and revved the engine, pushing it as far as it was possible for the vehicle to manage without shaking apart beneath her. As they cleared the initial stretch and headed towards the water course, Nerys angled the swoop up, moving to keep the racer in an elevated position, racing above the islets, dancing through the waterspouts as she fought to make up for lost time and distance.
Mandl has raced a half-dozen times or more, now, and although they'd never admit Nerys' advice may be correct it was impossible not to be all a-tingle as they maintained their tenuous lead... somehow(?). Though most of their opponents had more history behind the controls and flywheels and anti-gravs "and what-not," no other was verified to possess two brains and twelve fingers. Perhaps this was the nature of their advantage, perhaps it was simple probability at work. 'Race enough and sometimes you shall be in the lead until Sebulba cheats!' could well be another piece of Nerys' sage wisdom...
Kael looks around and then his eyes lock onto the racer he's neck and neck with a hand if he could shoot daggers or blasters out of his eyes he would be at Sebulba... Instead he decides to be reckless as can be swerving towards the Dug's swoop, cackling before veering off and towards the route through the pillars, "Now this is... Rather fun!" He blows a kiss towards Sebulba as they part ways for the moment.
Both men look up at the mangi-screens as the racers leave the safety of the island shore and fly over the notoriously turbulent seas of Pamarthe. It is immediately harrowing, to say the least, made all the more so by the announcer gleefully pointing out what awaits any drive who loses control of their craft. As the swoops bob and weave through the stone spires of the archipelago, Xavier folds his arms over the low partition that separates from crowd from the pit crews.
Rost, leaning against that same partition on the other side, takes a swig of his flask and speaks with a gasp of burning alcohol in his throat. "Yeah, my youngest has decided he's gonna run off and join the New Republic. Something about protecting the Thyferra bacta supply or some garbage, eh? A right idiot, that one. Gonna git himself kilt, but you can't tell 'im nothing otherwise."
That alone earns Xavier's curious if confused glance. "The ignorant bliss of youth."
"Ain't that the truth of it." A larger swig goes down, seemingly unconcerned about him or his crew being needed anytime soon. Not when a failure in this race means the swoop itself it likely a write-off.
Xyomara immediately straightens up as soon as the Mandalorian is pointed out. "Not worse than a young cadet on his first day at the academy." she offers. Which might even be a compliment.
Leaning with the lurch of the ship keeping up with the racers and dialing up the isolation circuits of his box to close out the roar of the crowds all around the Codru and the Droid continue to watch, a pressure can of oil held by C4 being used to squirt oil into its neck and shoulder joints.
"You do enjoy positing mental puzzles for me sir." "It's part of my charm." "Hair, face and philosophical assumptions?" "I like the odds." Fyrris's drink is held out, half finished, not even looking when it is refilled from a carafe, "Think Sebulba will win again?" "He's the crowd's villain." "I know, it means the odds will be better." A waggle of one brow and a sip of his refreshed drink. "I thought you didn't like cheating." "I don't, this isn't. This is playing the odds." "True."
The droid leans forward to look at one of the monitors and one might feel that it had a pensive expression while it observes. "What about the Ranat?" "Eh... Rodents." "Indeed."
"THIS COULD BE IT FOLKS!" Gutu cries when one of the aforementioned rogue waves rises from the seas like a great hand that approaches the raised archipelago with deceptive speed, growing a full ten meters over the height of the pillar lands and exploding spray from them moments after the racers are back out in open air. Kael's blown kiss gaining two rude gestures and something mouthed that gets his lips censored on the broadcast.
"SO! CLOSE!"
The lane indicators dip, suddenly, the droids that maintain them shaking. Is it nerves? Is it the winds fighting their repulsors and anti-gravs? But the laser drawn lines from the cruiser keeping pace above and droid carried lights take the racers down to where the ocean is barely a meter and a half below - dipping suddenly when a wave swells and then threatening to consume the racers with a curler from the ocean tides.
"They say you can see faces in the waters, Gentlebeings, during these storms; the faces of the lost, the sunken and the drowned. Don't look too close! Some Pamarthians say that if you make eye contact you dive to join them!"
Two kilometers of chop and waves may seem short on a swoop high above, but below where they compete; its an obstacle laden eternity.
Zavr can't see the funny look he gets from Hahtavi. This Mandalorian wanders over closer, still slightly dragging his right boot a little with his steps but no longer obviously limping.
<"Near Zel-tron?"> Software added to augment his helmet's vocoder helps make the slight slurring of his words more crisp and clear since his recent injuries. A faint upnod for the Chiss, <"Xy-o."> Rather than taking a seat, the Kora leans against the rail up the side near to their seats - within conversational distance. <"Got a fa-vor-ite to-day?"> The T-visor follows the swoop racers as they slip ever further away. The display monitors show the action up close with good camera views for the audience.
Ah, there's Fyrris over there. A Codru-ji does stand out a bit even in this crowd.
Manco's eschewed all of the fancy technomancy of the False Mandalorians for a good old-fashioned helmet that's just the got the regular amount of degrees for looking. Thus, his visor stays pointed in Hahtavi's direction for some time before it's returning to the race, having found nothing of note about the other Mandalorian.
"The Bith is doing well," he says with a nod of his head, arms crossing over his chest.
And then the wave was upon them, barreling down and trying to swamp them, and Nerys did what Nerys always did, which was race as if she had no thought for life or limb, as her swoop revved hard and she angled in, gauging the approach of the wave closest to her and she pivoted, the swoop drifting up and skimming along the edge of the wave, barely a lick above the water, as she surfed her way from one lip to the next, trying to gain some advantage.
Zavr Drick gives a slow nod at Xyo's comment about how he looks. "Well thanks, Cirri. That's very nice of you to say." And he's totally gonna rock that uniform cap for as long as he can, perhaps even forgetting it on his head once things are done!
He flashes Haht a bright smile and a laugh now once the Mando is closer. "Yes, near-Zeltron. She was calling me an alien earlier and I pointed out that we live in such a galaxy-ized society that no one can be an alien except maybe if they came from another dimension or something, and honestly who would even believe that's possible? And *then* she was like 'Well you're a near-Chiss because why should boring old regular humans be the baseline' and *I* was like, 'no, *you're* a near-Zeltron' and she didn't dispute that so I am now sticking with that.
"Oh yeah, I've got a favorite today. That one!" he points at Nerys, "I think I saw her at the one on Dantooine, and today she couldn't get her swoop started and ended up starting last, really, and I can't say no to an come back story, y'know?" His chosen, though, is in dead last and Zavr makes a face, "C'mon, Speedy! Pick it up, pick it up! Don't let the souls of the damned take you!" His attention lingers more on the screens now, watching closely a Nerys swoop-surfs! "Awesome.." he whispers, eyes shining.
Mandl, no doubt with that second brain whispering to them: 'The odds of successfully navigating a whirlpool-in-progress on a swoop are approximately--' dares as much as they might, skimming close along the water and jumping a few swells, but always from a position of knowing "this can be completed safely," a display of grim-faced skilled pragmatism in contrast to Nerys' disregard for 'whether she maintains consciousness and corporeality...'
Kael looks at the water and chuckles as he zips the swoop just to the surface of the ocean looking to draft offf... Well a wave it would appear as he slams into a wave that he didn't spot in front of him the swoop coming out the other side and flying off for a bit longer as he's ripped off the back of it from the water. After a bit he comes to the surface of the frothing waters, "Well that didn't go as planned." Hopefully that rescue ship gets here sooner rather than later!
Kael's swoop goes down and Fyrris curls up in his seat some making a face like he just sucked on the most sour of sour citrus fruit.
"All well, sir?" the droid questions, head canting to one side and squirting more oil into its hip joins, "He just -ate- it. Ugh. In a storm! That's gotta be freezing." pausing, "If human males get cold do they grow a little nub tail? I heard they do?" "Do you, sir?" the droids optics blinking slowly, "Space no. Are you crazy? I lost my tail in the cocoon... and superior genome. Humans. So gross." "You do realize you look -mostly- human"
A quartet of rude gestures go C4's way from Fyrris, "Counter argument, tin-dome." pointed ears twitching as if to fold back and his pupils are momentarily spotted when the light catches causing lupine light reflections in his otherwise solid amber eyes.
Silence now falls betewen the pair, both looking up at the magni-screen to observe the race. "Souls of the lost." Xavier's cigarette burns to the filter and beyond, the ring of heat reaching his fingers without him seeming to notice.
Rost notices, nudging Xavier with his elbow. "You all right there, mate?"
"Mmm?" Brown eyes fall to the cig nub now burning a thin ring of char into the flesh of his two fingers. Casually, he flicks the butt away and does a little shaking out of his hand. "Yeah, it's fine. Can't feel it, really. Haven't for a long time."
Now it's Rost's turn to be a little confused but he opts to ignore it. Not his problem, afterall. Besides, there's a crash to witness and -- hey! It's not Sebulba. Even better. "Oooof. Wonder if the lad is alive after that'un."
Xyomara just stares at Zavr, deciding to not say anything in answer to the Zeltron, before returning to stare at the racers., remaining quiet, not one emotion on her face. Although, if one were to listen very closely, one might catch a quiet "Sometimes I feel like I were from another dimension."
"This is as exciting as a Shim Productions party folks! Remember for all of your party needs, don't forget to contact Shim Productions - they come to you and will plan your next celebration beyond your wildest dreams and for a nominal price!"
The lanes lift and allow the racers to go above the majority of the waves that sweep below in the oceans that seem dead set on expressing the jubilation of sailors at sea and the anger of those spirits said to haunt them in the watches of the night. "HERE COMES MY FAVORITE PART!!" Gutu calling out as the ship passed over a formation of stone and internal views immediately switch to camera feeds.
The racers are directed into the yawning mouth of an ocean cavern exposed due to 'low' tides, but weeping brine from the lower lip. Passing within it is a roar of ocean air echoing and bouncing all about yet growing louder when another wave rises and chases the swoopers into the cavern that is well lit enough to show it breaking into an hive like web of tunnels that split and rejoin one another, forcing quick decisions and threatening quicker ends to the race.
The tunnels spiral, twist, dipping then rising with no seeming sense. Eroded where the stone was weaker than the pounding water spending centuries carving its way through what might have been lava tubes, widening and lengthening them. Some passages open into gaping caverns with sudden drops that force repulsors to struggle to keep aloft over what look like chasms that delve into the heart of the planet. Others climb and suggest an exit from a peak above, only for a hairpin turn and rushing back to the depths. But the other side grows closer yet.
Nerys' swoop launched itself from the lip of the final wave and she dipped down low, banking a hard right as she followed the lead droids, directing the racers towards the low tide carverns. Well, this was what Nerys was made for, wasn't it? Losing herself down the plughole at the end of the galaxy, hoping to come out of the otherside. This...was just a different sort of galaxy, and the master explorer full steamed ahead as her swoop disappeared into the caverns, and she zigged and zagged, dipped and dives, riding the hard curves and the soft ones, skimming the very edges of the walls that threatened to collapse on her as she used her instinct and, likely, sheer dumb luck to make her way through.
Mandl, no stranger to hazardous conditions (or indeed, probably, surviving undersea-- perhaps they've breathed oxygenated liquids in search of mineral wealth) has that bothersome shred of self-preservation instinct intact, and must rely on cold clinical mathematics to ensure they *at a minimum* rise to the crest of each oncoming wave on a functional machine! It isn't cowardice if you're skilled enough! CROSS ALL TWELVE FINGERS, BABY!
Zavr Drick nods with an understanding smile at Xyo, "I feel that, from you. And that's ok." He reaches back and tries to give her a pat on the shoulder again. "But you're not. You're from this dimension with us. We see you, Cirri. You matter." He speaks in an earnest tone and tries to catch her eyes with his, managing to tear away from Nerys's racing for a moment. "Don't you ever forget that!" He gives a firm nod then looks back to the screen, checking in! Haht... has nothing to say after the explanation and Zavr gives an oblivious smile and nod, taking his silence for acceptance! "Ooooh ouch!" There's a wince as he watches Kael get taken out... and then there's tunnels and the swoop are forced to enter them! He can't watch and a strangled little yelp escapes his throat as he turns and tries to bury his face into Xyo's shoulders, muttering something to her: "Tell me once they're all inside or dead."
Vega had apparently went to get something to drink at the wrong time, because she returns just in enough time for Kael to be seen on screen crashing. "Oof!" she winces at it. Guess it was going to be a bad night for the mechanics that dealt with that. "Well, looks like things are almost over for the moment, Round one." she tells her droid as he rolls to her side. She makes her way back to where the mechanics and other teams are allowed to watch the rest of the race, drinking in things quietly.
When the display goes fully to cameras, Fyrris leans forward, lower elbows on his knees and his upper hands holding his cocktail glass "Come on Bulby, come on. I've got serious credits here." bouncing lightly in his seat and the droid steps up to rest its hands on his shoulders, slowly kneading while vibrating slightly,
"This is why you should stick to cards, sir." "True, but I love the thrill." "Like with that governors w-" "Shush! Shushy shushy shoosh!" a look turned to the droid, but no interference with the backrub.
Feels good.
Xyomara just looks over before stiffening up as he tries to bury his face "Yes. Yes. Rocks fell. Everyone died. It was horrible." not at all helped by Xyo not even including a hint of anything. No stress on sylables, no emotion "And... they are all in. Or would be If they weren't all dead." she begins, trying to get him off "Now, I just got that coat drycleaned..."
Another crash hits the water and Rost leeeeeans forward with interest. Is it his employer? For a moment he can't tell. Some of the other crew have stopped what they are doing to watch, as well. The camera zooms in.... and Sebulba is still racing along! The crew let out a sigh. Most of them are with relief. One guy in the back grumbles a curse: clearly he's put his money on a different contender.
Rost flops back against the paritition, crossing his arms over his broad chest; gut so large his elbows practically rest upon them. "He's still in it. If he walks away from this one, I think I'm retiring. Maybe to some backwater planet. Far enough away from the sister-in-law." One more swig from his flask and the top is twisted back on with a squeak. "Eeeeh well. We'll see how it goes. So, what about you, mate? What are you---"
He turns his head to look towards Xavier and blinks; the space previously occupied by the black-haired man now vacant. Rost looks over his shoulder then pivots on his foot to scan the animatedly cheering crowd.
Xavier is gone.
From deafening echoes and claustrophobic tunnels to a return to the blinding mists illuminated by flaring heat-lightning carving lines through the fog like cracking glass. Lamps producing heat focus on the swoopers, on their path, cutting a swath through the obscuring vapors but also pitching the winds into a frenzy with the mixture of hot and cold. Yu'Nasa barely making it out, piloting more wreckage than swoop upon her escape from the tunnels. Lagging behind, her swoop periodically dipping and then chugging back up to height at the rear of the pack - one of her short blades pinning her broken leg to her vehicle and keeping it from flopping about.
"WE'RE ON THE FINAL STRETCH!"
Displays within the ship give close-ups of racers faces where camera droids have mag-locked to their rides, laser lights make dizzying displays that mix with the lightning flashes and help point the way to the 'finish line' of the championship race.
"WHO"
A bulk transport hove into sight, modified into something resembling a space tug, to compensate for inertia pressure in Pamarthe's perpetual storms. A pair of quad-split doors open, framed by the main engines, with running lights pointing the way for the racers to go.
"WILL"
A stable hologram of a checkered wall is on display, the black and white squares flowing inward as if being drawn into a singularity.
"IT"
The finishing craft seems to slow, then speed up, then speed again - a trick of the senses? A means to torment the racers? Whatever the reality, the crowd's voice of approval is nigh deafening.
"BE!?"
Nerys came shooting out of the final cavern mouth and back into the open air. Or some value of open air. Part of her was glad that she had made it. Part of her as she flew out into the sists, was equally glad she had the helmet on. Nobody wanted to see Nerys on a bad hair day. Which she pointedly never had, oh ka? Okay, seriously, though, the swoop skimmed out of the fog and clouds, still nowhere near where Nerys wanted to be, but she saw someone who was and that made the final mad dash to the finish line that much more enjoyable. She could almost...almost fly as if she had a care for her own well-being.
Mandl, helmet or no, at least never had to worry about bad hair days. Not once in their life. As the strobes and the lasers (--and let's be real, probably the drugs) kick in, they flicker and shift and switch places *several times,* although via optical illusion or skillful determination is unclear! Will their sense of *when* to risk it all, and when to let the little sensibly-dressed hairless homonculus on all of our shoulders take the reins... BE THE RIGHT CHOICE?!
Zavr Drick is pretty dry by now, and even the coconut scented oil he'd been using on his skin earlier has dried away. When Xyo tells him rocks fell and everyone died he looks up at her in horror, eyes cutting to the screen... and then he scowls at her, pushing away, giving her a light slap on the upper arm. "That's very rude. They coulda been killed and we'd have watched them." he hmphs, sulking a bit in the spot next to Xyo. The cap of hers he wears really adds to the gravitas of the somber look on his face, though. That is until he spots Nerys still sliding along via the cameras and he throws a punch in happiness, into the air of course, "YES! Go, Speedy, go!" He's on his feet now and once more he reaches a pink hand out for Xyo, trying to get her to her feetsies to cheer with him! Though it doesn't seem like Nerys will win, Zav's not gonna just abandon her now, and he keeps on cheering!
Xyomara just shakes her head "No. Then you wouldn't have turned your head towards the screen." she just offers, raising an eyebrow, deciding to go up "Go, Greystorm! Win this race so Mr. Zavr here at least has a reason to be happy."
"IT'S DONE! IT'S FINISHED! WE HAVE OUR CHAMPION!"
The hatch of the finishing tug close with a sonorous CLANG and the craft's ascent to the race-stands ship is aided by way of tractor beams pulling it to the docking clamps. Within the craft, around the racers being rushed by post-game crew. Towels, blankets, hot drinks - a medical stretcher for Yu'Nasa, updates on Kael's status being picked up by a rescue craft and his being en-route to the big ship even now.
"GENTLEBEINGS! THIS YEARS WINNER OF THE INTER-RIM CHAMPIONSHIP RACE! MANDL B'ROTT! FOLLOWED CLOSE BY SEBULBA AND FINALLY THE CIRCUIT POINTS CHAMPION... NERYS GREYSTORM!"
Faces and stats are put on display, a series of dancers of various species and genders making to haul the Bith, dug and the red headed lady up to a podium while the tug is only just starting to make its docking attachments - the others racers are left to their own devices as trophies of scaling size and precious metal are presented to the top three as well; the biggest and most gaudy put into Mandl's hands.
Nerys and Sebulba being presented with a gold and silver, respectively, medallion with their names and placement in the Circuit Scores.
"GENTLEBEINGS! THEY'RE BEING LIFTED UP TO US NOW! GIVE THEM THE WELCOME THEY DESERVE!!!"
Bizz is just finishing off his Yobshrimp cocktail when it is finally over. Sebulba loses! Mandl wins! "That little Bith did it!" he says, jostling and causing shells of eaten oysters to clatter off his tray.
Two sets of arms were thrown up, as Nerys came into the bays for the swoop racers, one voice rising in basic, the other in Binary. "Mandl! Winner!" Oh yeah! The circuit was over, done and dusted, and Nerys and Bitty hopped down from their swoop, turning first to ensure that Kael was being brought back in, and then running, wel, or skimming over towards Mandl, once they had recieved trophies and medals. Again, four hands came out, this time for more fist bumps, "Fantastic race, Mandl!" No hugging, Bith did not do hugging. And ignore the rude gestures towards Sebulba from the droid.
Mandl loosens their helmet to touch foreheads with Nerys! While it is possible they hug, perhaps-- not for the cameras? This briefest of contacts is salacious enough, surely, in the culture of their homeworld!
A drink tossed over his shoulder and eyes going towards the 'roof' of his box when Sebulba comes in second.
"Sir?"
"GyaaaAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaAAAAH!" "Are you alright, sir?"
Fyrris grumbles and hits the recline switch on his seat, smacking C4 and nearly casting the droid to the floor, an action that gains a huffy sniff from the mechanical and a distinctly audible *closing* of the beverage carafe, "There is no need to be so rude, sir!" "Husha! Hush hush!" "It's not the end of the world." "But my mooooOOOOoooney."
The droid rests a cold metal hand on one of the codru's shoulders, "There there, sir."
"My mmmmmmooooOOOOOOOOOooooney!"
Zavr Drick jumps up and down as the race is called, lifting his hand into the air, and Xyo's hand if she did take his when she stood! "Yaaaaah! Way to go, Speedy! The important thing is you tried your hardest and did your best! You'll get 'em next time!" To Xyo he tilts his head, "Greystorm?" and of course the announcer mentions her again and he ahs, "Yay, Nerys! You did great! And you too, Mandl! Not you, Suckbulba. I remember your reek shavit from Dantooine!" Not that any of them can probably hear. The clatter of oyster shells draws his gaze over to Bizz and he tilts his head, "Hey, you dropped your shells!" To Xyo: "So, did you enjoy your time? Watching the race that is? It was a good race! And no one died, probably!"
Xyomara nods "Yes. They probably didn't." she offers, looking over, moving to clap instead "It... wasn't bad entertainment."
Zavr Drick looks about as many people probably start getting off the barge so that they can beat the traffic. "So, Cirri. Do you need a ride back to Nar Shaddaa? I've got my Dunelizard, we could probably squeeze in." Dunelizard's not a euphemism, it's a fighter. "Or do you have your own ship?"
