Log:Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit - Nal Hutta

Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit - Nal Hutta

OOC Date: September 4 2021
Location: Nal Hutta
Participants: B'haav Adasta, Bizz Bliptettjupp, Tovani Enno, David Ironside, Nerys Greystorm, Xavier Harcourt, Fyrris Vochar, Khalim, Ryu Azai, Kael Greystorm, Tarq Najjic, and Reverberate as GM

"NAL HUTTA, RUULITI THE HUTT AND THE COUNCIL OF HUTTS are PROUD to present the FOURTH of the Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit races!" silvery ebony thread suited and sporting his stylish and trademark 'clip' shaders over his eye stalks, Gutu Phluu, Gran Major Domo of RACING strides up an automatically unfurling red carpet to an announcer's podium where camera droids begin to swarm. Holoemitters projecting the gran and a array of suggestively attired dancers into the middle of the sky over the starting line. Pyrotechnics and foil confetti erupting all around to create a hurricane of color and movement ending with the dancers waving their arms in a hypnotically flowing effect while Gutu speaks.

"Brought to you by Shim Productions, The Galaxy's premiere boutique party planners! The Pazaak and Tabac - Nar Shadaa's most luxurious music, cigarra and gambling hall! And The Hapan Silk Commission! Fine Hapan silk, the only fabric worthy of the work done at Refined Aesthetics!" heady, shimmering coloured, fireworks fill the air as racers are ushered out to the starting zones. "Gentlebeings! From the planet Rydar II, Otho'oku Baj! From piratical fame, the Sanyassan Yu'nasa Xaip! From Malastare SEBULBA! With support of B'Rot Metal and Mining Concepts - purveyor of minerals and fine products on BEAUTIFUL CLOUD CITY, BESPIN!"

"OUR RACERS are arrayed today on BEAUTIFUL Nal Hutta! Poised to make their way across the GARDEN OF ETERNAL DELIGHTS maintained by Ruuliti The Hutt and their kin for GENERATIONS!" Holo-displays begin showing panoramic displays of copses of tall trees, swathes of wetland, monstrous beasts and predatory avians. "Our competitors need to traverse the perilous and beautiful paths of this combination menagerie and free for all!"

Spotlights turn to where the vehicles are already set, "Gentlebeings! Start your engines and we shall see who can win THE MENAGERIE OF MAYHEM!!"

"Yes, I do like this location much better. Say what you will about them, the Hutts do know how to use what they have to best advantage." Nerys' tone was entirely genuine, despite the fact that nobody in their right minds would ever think to say such a thing about the Hutts. Except, perhaps, the explorer. Ah, well, to each their own. Nerys, who had settled on, yet again, another rental swoop, adjusted the straps of the harness she wore, as the smol droid checked the other half of the harness, ensuring that both her hands were free, and that wind speed would not cause her to fly off of Nerys' back. "Try not to shoot anything that doesn't actually need shooting. HiBall won't be close enough to be impressed." Once Nerys was ready, and the swoop was under power, she took the time to look out at the gathered crowds in the stands, looking for one person in particular. Ah, there they were.

One of said vehicles is a Zephyr Swoop that appears to have a hastily attached decal on the front of it in blue and gold that says Blaster's Path! Come join us on Rishi after the race! The owner of said swoop is in a muted blue suit with its gold details here and there. Her golden helmet is set on the seat of her bike as she wiggles one arm into the suit with a hip shake and then the other. Rolling her shoulders forward she adjusts and then closes up the suit. Lavender mauve hair braided tightly down the sides of her head is gathered into a bun at the back of her neck.

When the spotlights turn on them she is turning and waving, a bright smile on blue lips as the Wroonian named Tovani Enno waves towards the crowd and putting one foot before the other flourishes a bow.

She rises once more and lifts both hands to throw kisses to the spectators, feeding off the energy before she reaches for her helmet and tugs it on, settling it into place before clipping the securing chin strap down. A strong leg sweeps over the top of the seat so she stands astride as she futzes with the driver interface before finally setting hands to the swoop's handles. She settles back and prepares for the signal and double checks her systems.

A fantastic display to be observed and the purveyor of the Pazaak and Tabac is happy to observe. Nestled into his sponsor box the codru-ji leans back against his seat; enjoying the cooling fans built in and the magnetic shielding keeping the particulate of the planetary atmosphere from getting to him.

"I couldn't work or live like this." "Sir?" the attendant droid with questions while filling a cocktail glass with some slightly thick, sweet smelling, translucent orange drink. "This planet, it's so hot and humid and it stinks." "Then why come?" "I mean... I've put a lot of credits into this." "Ah."

The last turning Fyrris's head towards the droid, squinting slightly to the synthetic's permanently blanked face.

Shifting through the stands, a pale human of above average height with the muscles and build of a gymnast, green eyes, and brown hair is sidling towards some empty seats, addressing the Echani behind him in a loud voice. "Tarq Najjic has never seen swoop race /in person/. Excuse, excuse," he tells those he shifts past. "But came into nice seats. Cannot deny lady luck - just because of risk of fiery death!"

He is wearing a close fitted suit, except instead of any reasonable fabric, the coat and pants are both black leather. There is no shirt, but the coat is buttoned. Around his neck is a green feather boa that goes down under the coat in the front and drapes over his shouldser in the back. "Should maybe have asked you- but - were in shower." He's beaming as he settles himself into his seat, unbuttons the coat - yeah, still no shirt - and crosses his legs primly. "Right next to sponsor boxes - no better placement! Oh, wait. Fyrris? Fyrris!" He waves over from just outside the sponsor box. "Bought yacht from him," he explains to Ryu.

Kael Greystorm has made his way out to the swoop race but he's there as a spectator not as a racer so he's heading over to the stands with HiBall perched on his shoulder and a new Pit Droid trundling along behind him. Looking out at the racers prepping to take off he smiles a bit offering a wave towards the other Greystorm. "Go win this Nerys! Or at least don't die!"

David walks his speeder down into place, waving as his name is called. ("David Ironside from Naboo!") He glares at the nearest loudspeaker when Sebulba is mentioned as being sponsored by B'rot, noting silently to himself that "I thought we had something there, Mandl." He shrugs it off, fixing a pair of goggles over his forehead ready to be slipped down, as well as a mask to go over his lower face. Interesting note: He didn't have that on before. Freakin' swamps.

Wearing his swoop spectating best, which, to be fair, looks fairly similar to what he wore yesterday and would wear tomorrow, Khalim sits at one of the many pop-up bars that now exist to soak up as many credits as possible while these crowds congregate. This one in particular sits just below one of the larger outdoor holo-displays, which shimmers against a backdrop of festering Nal Hutta sky.

Tovani's time on screen is met with a yell from the Mirialan, and a toast to shimmering holo. "SHE is the one to put your credits on, friend," Khalim says to the already fairly well hammered Sarkhai male sitting next to him. A bottle of regular ol' lum is slid across the bartop, intercepted by a pear-hued hand and raised for a glug of epic proportions. This pre-funk started late, but it still qualifies.

Ryu dutifully follows Tarq, a smirk on his face and a nod to his comments. "No, I'm pleased to be here. I'm excited to try out gambling actually." Unlike just hours before, Ryu's clothing is finely pressed and washed showing the fine make of it. Taking a seat next to Tarq he eyes the racers, and then nods. "So a business friend associate or perhaps a friend?" Though Ryu's eyes seem to light up as he really takes in the swoops , all other focus seeming to drop.

"Tarq, that racer the blue one with gold features " He gestures down to Tovani. "2,000 credits on them winning. Is that a good bet?"

B'haav Adasta had thought it about high time he actually attend one of these races, to see where his workaround sponsorship advertising was going. The word of mouth had slowly been making good business for Refined Aesthetics' off-the-rack limited runs, and as a very silent partner, it had been working out well for his dividends. To ensure that wandering eyes might see what Refined Aesthetics can do for you, he is wearing a pristine silk suit of Hapan trim, so deeply black that it seems to swallow the light that touches it, bringing more emphasis to the gold buttons on the double-breast and cuffs. A black trilby with an emerald band and silver feather hides his palps, so he appears to be just another human at this event. A fair number of them.

The sponsor box is spacious and seems to be quite empty other than the one well-dressed man, but as he rests the silver cane against his leg, he looks to be quite the dapper fellow, and he tries his best to look as though he's here for modeling purposes. A familiar voice pulls his attention and he stands up, leaning forward to look over at Tarq Najjic. "Tarq Najjic!" Very un-model-like, he waves at the man.

"RACERS!"

Fireworks blaze and lights mounted on hovering droids whirl in dizzying array of mixing and separating hues that reflect into a thousand crystal lights from foil confetti bursting into the air and prismatic sprays from the moisture that permeates in the oppressive humidity of the atmosphere. The crowd roars and more droids with guide lights begin to lift to show the racing lanes.

"READY"

Horns blare and Hutt sail barges hovering over even the crowd begin showing their transit lights as well as their own spots to add to the display. Sluggish, timeless, creatures with orange and red eyes gazing with mixtures of mild interest and greed turning towards the swoops preparing to,

"GO!!!"

A pair of turbolasers concealed in humps of wet earth and swamp foliage fire. Anti-air weapons to protect Hutt holdings used now for entertainment; a decadent show of wealth and power that is matched further into the swamp and marshlands. Flaring emerald green and cerulean into the sky - flash boiling moisture to create smoky fog banks that adopt and brighten the colors as the race begins in earnest.

"How long do you think it'll be before they turn the lasers on us?" This was a question that, perhaps, that Nerys should have been asking, as the fireworks and lightshow began. Thankfully, they were not shooting at her right //now// and that meant only one thing. Gun the engine and go! Nerys took off like a slug from a, well, slugthrower. Not a great analogy, but who cares? She was off, moving away from the starting line and out onto the course.

The Zephyr may not be new but she runs and Tovani can not ask for more. Adjusting hereslf in her seat she looks up at the others in place. The dark view from her visor is a mere reflection of what is around her but inside that helmet the blood is rushing in her ears and she can feel the heat washing over her from her breath. The adrenaline is beginning to pump through her veins. Her hands flex on the controls and she lowers, readying herself into position.

READY!

Is that her heart thundering or the engines around her. Either way Tovani gives her attention to the path ahead and starts to draw back on the accelerator and so when the final light show is let loose and they are given the clear she pulls back just enough to jerk forward but not too fast that she is left drowning out the engine. The way becomes clear almost immediately as she and another racer pull ahead. That racer being Nerys.

While David is fixing his protective gear into place, he adds an ear piece on his left side. <<"Ones, let me know if and when trouble happens. Keep me updated on Sebulba's position, too. And tell me when it's Sebulba causing trouble. He likes doing that.">> he speaks, even as the countdown starts, drowning out the reply with the cheers of the crowd as the race starts. Then the winds of speed crash down on David's front, even though for his own standards it's a shoddy start. <<"I know, not ideal.">> he pre-empts his astromech's likely comment. <<"What's up first? Swamps, right? It'll be swamps.">> he decides, eyes firmly on the road ahead.

While David is fixing his protective gear into place, he adds an ear piece on his left side. <<"Ones, let me know if and when trouble happens. Keep me updated on Sebulba's position, too. And tell me when it's Sebulba causing trouble. He likes doing that.">> he speaks, even as the countdown starts, drowning out the reply with the cheers of the crowd as the race starts. Then the winds of speed crash down on David's front, even though for his own standards it's a shoddy start. <<"I know, not ideal.">> he pre-empts his astromech's likely comment. <<"What's up first? Swamps, right? It'll be swamps.">> he decides, eyes firmly on the road ahead.

There's late. Fashionably Late. "Were you invited?" late. And "I'm calling the authorities" late. Arriving just moments before the race begins, Xavier thus carves himself a new notch on the 'How late are you' scale. Let's call this one Prudently Late. The kind of late where you're definitely late but not so late as to be insultingly late. If anyone cared about his arrival at all which is dubious at best.

The dark-haired man weaves into the crowd, using a turn of his shoulder and a stretch of his arm to part bodies and slip through. He might mumble an 'excuse me' here or there. Or more likely, it is the less-than-savoury Huttese equivilent. It takes some doing, but he makes it to one of the many screens that display the race. He's just here to observe. And maybe witness a crash or three. Definitely the latter.

"Two thousand?" the Kuati repeats, twirling the end of his boa around absentmindedly when Ryu asks him about his bet. "Maybe." He watches the racers pull out, and now he too has to watch the screens. "Tarq Najjic has many vices, but he never gambles sober." He raises a hand to a passing drink vendor, looking to cure that. "Planet tastes bad, must wash out mouth."

"When the Balosar leans over from the sponsor box, his smile shows white teeth and wrinkles form at the edges of his eyes. "B'haav! Heard sponsorship; did not expect you!" He gestures to the Echani next to him. "Meet Ryu Azai. You - you might work together. Ryu: is B'haav Adasta, one of two finest hat-wearers on all Nar Shaddaa. Like his more, personally," he confides, loud enough for B'haav to certainly hear, "but some favor a certain Bith."

The wetlands seem to reach out for the swoops with sodden arms and hungry snarls of life hostile to invaders. Dxun stanglevines fatted on the blood of sentient and non, aged by centuries and the size of massive beasts of burden lurch nastically at movement; grasping for potential victims to haul them down into the muck. Such as with the Sanyassan Yu'nasa who narrowly avoids such initially while Sebulba streak by, not in the lead but not at the end of the pack either - the pair shaking fists at one another in passing.

"BE READY FOR ANYTHING RACERS! MUCH LIKE THE EMPLOYEES OF THE B'ROT MINERAL TRUSTS ARE WHEN THEY PLUMB THE DEPTHS OF WORLDS FOR THE METALS THAT MAKE YOUR EVERYDAY LIFE COMPLETE!!!" Gutu calls out, the images of the racers on display intermixed with the Gran's wild and excitedly happy expression. "Ladies and gentlebeings! The Hutts never fail to impress!!! Just like Fine Hapan Silk! The choice for the discerning dresser!"

The least of worries as the true horror of the Menagerie's 'exotic' contents makes itself known when the lashing tendrils of one plant change to another. A five meter diameter, cone like, hole in the ground swelling with long fangs chokes up a vicious beak from what could be mistaken for a sink hole and more reaching tentacles seek out victims for its gluttony. A squealing series of shrieks audible over even the roar of swoop engines as the Sarlaac of Ruuliti The Hutt makes its holo-broadcast debut.

Over a kilometer of gossamer thin threads of Web Tree fronds blowing in the wind - silky but catching like arachnid webs and seemingly crafted of razor cord for the risk of slicing through cloth, flesh and bone. Sleepspore fungus spewing clouds. Eyes of creatures able to survive the nightmare watching. Waiting.

"Nal Htta, has some taste to it for sure." Ryu looks out into the swamps, not actually at the racers and seems to take in the planet he has found himself upon. Though as everyone takes off he is distracted for a moment, and realizing he doesn't actually know the rules to swoop racing. Can they destroy each other? First to finish? Last one left alive. He supposes he'll find out.

"At your service B'haav." The Echani gives a nod and gestures with his fingers just above his head. "I've never had much experience with hats, but I'm open to tryin a few."

B'haav continues this voice-raised conversation over the sound and hubbub of cheering and the amplified sounds of racing swoops, though his eyes turn to the action and he notes the familiar racers. He had planned to cheer on Netep Muri, but she was unfortunately absent. One racer in particular caught his eye as he turns back to Tarq and his friend. "It's nice to meet you! If you're making bets, I have 10,000 credits on the Zephyr and its rider." B'haav considers the uncouth approach to discussion. "Would you two like to join me in the box? It's... Rather empty."

Kael Greystorm finds himself a place to sit and watch the event and smiles some as he watches Nerys speed off into the lead, "That's my girl! Bring home the win!" But then he's looking around some, "HiBall could you go see about finding something that's actually not toxic to drink for me? No shooting folks to get it though!"

As the race proceeds into dangerous territory, immediately even, Fyrris's head shakes slightly and a soft laugh ripples through him; shaping his puckish demeanor further to any who were to look at the VIP box he is in.

"See, what I know you understand-" "Because you removed my restraining-" "Yes your restraining bolt, I" "I appreciate that." "Yes yes, can I finish?" "Yes, sir." the droid gestures almost condescendingly for Fyrris to continue.

"Anyway, it's the matter of the conflict here; rather than armed conflict it is talent versus talent; this is why some worlds utilize gladiatorial conflict resolution." "One life for many." "Precisely." "Some would denote that barbaric to condemn one to potential death." Fyrris sighs and drains his glass, holding it out for a refill before he continues, "If the subjects of either contending side, both combatant and political representatives, acknowledge and the gladiator in question is a volunteer and not a draft then much of the socio-political queasiness should be assuaged. Both warriors are committed members acting as political force in a 'might is right' contest; just on a far smaller scale than full armies killing each other, population centers being destroyed and potentially causing civilian casualties. Really; gladiatorial combat between the best and most skilled of either side is the optimum." "But." "But most governments are against relying on a single warrior and want to put so much pressure on the other they force capitulation. It's egos versus ego." "Hrmmmm." The droid attendant turns back, shaker in hand, pouring fresh liquor for Fyrris.

"No, we can't take that home either! Where would be we keep it?" Nerys, who seemed to pay no attention to the other racers, simply skimmed her swoop over the hills and rolling plains of the swamp. She did, at least, avoid any of the spouts of swamp water attempting to soak her good self. "Hold on!" Which the smol droid did, harness or no, all four limbs gripping her steed as the swoop swept out and over, across the sarlacc's mouth, the swoop rising as she moved to avoid the tendrils trying to reach out and get a bit too friendly with her and her bike.

What is this place?! A den of horrors green living horrors. Thats what it is. She is going full throttle trying to keep pace with Nerys when that cone shaped opening parts the very ground before Nerys, then her. Tovani's swoop is caught, buffeted by one of the tendrils that is wagging around suddenly like some unwanted greeting from a great aunt who just can't keep her distance.

/KRIFF!/

The swoop skids sideways as she tries desperately to regain control. For a brief moment it looks like it may throw her right into the opening but she jerks the vehicle back around just in time and hits the throttle. At the last second she leaps over the waiting predator and its unwanted end as she catches her breath and continues through, throwing up ground and moisture in her wake as she briefly glances back at what have been a really cruel end to a short lived career on the track.

It's amazing what can catch the ear over the rumblings of the crowds. The horns. The hollers. The occasional fist fight somewhere in the back. Two words in particular do not escape Xavier's attention: 'Balosar' and 'hat.' That can mean only one man.

Having just finished lighting his cigarette and tucking the lighter back into his jacket, Xavier scans the crowd and finds the balosar in question. The fact he's already engaged in conversation is not a deterrant and Xavier makes his way over; utilizing the same weave-and-grumble-in-Huttese method that has worked for him so far. "If it isn't the good doctor Adasta. Pulled yourself from your work for a bit of gambling, I see? Gladd to see thou art mortal afterall."

Breathing in some tobacco as well as good, ol' fashioned Nal Hutta stank, Xavier nods to Tarq in recogniction then tilts his head towards Ryu. "Well met."

<<"You said a Sarlacc?">> David comms over to his pit crew of one. <<"Like on Tatooine, where we don't go near it?">> He shudders a little, dodging evil plants of all varieties as he does. "Well, damn. I guess there's a Sarlacc." David's eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't alter course even with the creature coming more and more into view. Someone should ask David why he does the things he does. Maybe he'll even have a good answer! The Mobquet Overracer, get yours now at Nar Shaddaa's Speedbay (while supplies last), turns a corner, aided by the sinkhole the carnivorous plant-monster calls home as the swoop curves around it.

skyward, washing those below in its shifting colors. The Mirialan holding station at that pop-up bar has quieted as he watched the pack near and then attempt to navigate the hunting ground of a sarlacc. He watches as various swoops and their riders receive tentacled-attention, but there's an actual held breath as the swoop bearing the label 'Blaster's Path', and the azure-skinned woman piloting it brushes past that hungry maw. And a cracking swat by one of those tendrils, sending Tovi's swoop into a skid, draws an exclamation from the man, "GO!" hurled at the holo. And she does. She goes, bits of Nal Hutta debris swept behind in her wake. "Not going to make me any credits if she'd dead," he says to the Sarkhai sitting next to him, now barely able to maintain his seat, though the Mirialan seems to have been genuinely concerned.

"Thank you - for invitation, B'haav." Tarq feels around on the inside of the partition between the sponsors and the rest of us plebeians until he feels a lever. With the gate opened, he ushers Ryu in, and then Xavier as well, before stepping and latching it behind him. It's not breaking and entering if you're invited, right?

"Enno has enthusiasm, skill - luck," he adds as she manages to pull off an escape from the Sarlacc, "but Nerys has endurance, precision. Will place no bets." He nods to the last arrival: "Harcourt. Here for racers, or wrecks?" he asks wryly.

"Our racers are clearing through the exterior ring of plant life of the Menagerie and it looks like the guide-lanes are taking them from the Botanical Border and deep into the Safari Zone! A safari of excitemen akin to a Shim Productions planned party! Organize one today at the Pazaak and Tabac for a night to be told of in legend!" Gutu declares and more camera droids begin 'attaching' themselves to swoops to give on-board views, chase cams and head on showings of the racers faces.

The glowing lights of droids that are being destroyed in handfuls by the 'park' life being replaced by others descending from the sky to give a rainbow tinted trails that twist and intersect around massive hummocks with mandrake and cottonwoods lurching from them. More benign than the border growths but making primary dwellings for the gundark packs that make their sudden appearances - the primitive, four armed, mammals seeking to give chase in some patches of the path.

"OH! And there we have one of Ruulti's PRIZE exhibits! Gentlebeings! Racers! Look out! It's a -"

The crowd roaring mingles with the bone shaking, vibrato, cry of the Geonosian Hydra that erupts from a massive body of swampy water so dark it is indeterminable if it is purely depth or the mix of water life. The three headed, amphibious insectoid's necks stretch out - from mandible to mid-thorax easily twenty meters of flexible chitin, unblinking mantis eyes and pure non-sentient hunger. The rest of the creature hidden by the swamp or the breadth of titanic wings.

Ushered in Ryu takes in the box, and seems amused. A lesson in knowing the right person, it seems. "I've always found luck to be a really good trait. For what can we do against the infinite we cannot control, besides just be lucky?" Taking a seat he looks over to B'haav "10,000? Hrm, well I think we bet on the same person. How would that work? I may be willing to raise my bet to 3,000. Or must I match yours?" Looking over to Xavier Ryu offers a nod and takes out a two cards, offering them path to B'haav and Xavier. "Ryu Azai at your service." Both are pieces of paper with a crudely drawn smiling Ryu with double thumbs up. His fullname, and the phrase 'Don't get mad, but get rad with services by Ryu'

"Now that one, that one we can take home. It can roam the hangar. make it nice and cozy!" Clearly, Nerys was either completely at ease, or talking through her difficulties. "It can keep the spider droid company." Nerys, having flew past the sarlacc, revved the engines of the swoop, pushing the bike as far into the atmosphere as she could could go, skimming through the pincering claws, the snap of wind close enough to hive the woman a hair cut, if she had any hair currently on display. Alas, this could have been a race and a space spa visit.

Adasta didn't exactly invite him, but Tarq did and that's enough for Xavier to join the others in the box.

Racers or wrecks? There's a slight spark in Xavier's eyes as the wry grin is returned. "They aren't mutually exclusive. Certainly here for the wrecks, nad I will endeavour greatly to try to say that with some shame." Crossing his arms over themselves, Xavier leans on the edge of the box, there is a genuine look of surprise when the hydra makes its appearance. "Though perhaps I should change my expectations from wrecks to impromptu dinner theater." Where the racers are the dinner, you see. These are the jokes.

The echani offers him a bit of advertisement and Xavier accepts it with the interest it is due. Which is to say polite enough interest to at least read what was handed to him. "Xavier Harcourt," he answers first to the man's own introduction. "And just what services is it exactly that you provide, Mr. Azai?" Brown eyes glance up to see if anyone has been eaten yet.

"I've never seen Nerys race or compete, but I've had a couple of enounters with... Enno, and I think if there's money on the line, she's like as not to pull it off. I bet on energy," offers B'haav as the others approach and enter the Hapan Silk Commission's partitioned sponsor box. "Not that I bet very often. Much less in the last few months. But there were a fair number of races at Balosar Downs that... ended up being work outings." What else do you do when you are out with works, but gamble and wait for it to be over?

"Good doctor is not what I would describe for my practice, Xavier. I never said that I was mortal, only that I do tend to keep busy. In a way... This is a work outing of sorts." B'haav quietly wonders at the odds of sponsoring a racer to race in a custom jumpsuit of Refined Aesthetics' design... He looks up to Ryu. "Well, If we're betting on Tovani Enno, then... I think someone has to bet against us. A combined bet of 13,000, and I would take 10 credits of any winnings for your three. That's how it would work, I believe." There's a moment, and then the Balosar takes the offeres hand, slipping his own flimsiplast card in. "B'haav Adasta."

Even just clear of the Sarlacc pit, David can hear the danger ahead. And feel it, the ground under him shakes enough to make its way through the repulsorlifts and into the swoop racer. Ahead, there's a handful of racers answering the call to insanity, and if -they- can, so can David! Right? The Naboo-born keeps a steely eye on the tracks left behind by the other racers, knowing not to exactly follow them. That's where the Hydra's gonna be if he's not careful, and if there's one place David doesn't want to be it's in pieces inside a Hydra, and finishing behind Sebulba. Two places.

"You do have a point." Fyrris admits while his gaze remains glued to displays, one hand tapping to shift singular to multiple views and to spread them around his box. "The nature of it is that those of political-social-financial strength, in concert with like minds, shall set policy. I'm not denying that. I'm just giving an observation from outside perspective."

D3 bobs its torso, for a lack of a head or neck in its form, manipulator arms tucking into a folded hand posture behind its back, "But even with your stance as observer you are also a direct interface with your own financial standing."

"But that is for personal use, I don't buy opinion; unless you count how often I clean out the tables buying influence." "Of an extremely negative sort." "Never said that it wasn't, ol' boy."

Carried forth from one danger to another, shielded inclines with more lane lights reach upward towards a collection of rings with transparisteel sections. The air becoming closer and rank with the fetid odor of the many hutts reclining on repulsor thrones to a spiraling course barely large enough for two swoops to move side by side. "Sebulba is pulling ahead, seeking to give chase to Nerys who's been holding firm since the start! Closing the distance... OH! MY!" the Dug provides a very 'polite' gesture to Tovani as he passes. It's so polite the cameras have to blur it.

Very sportsmanlike.

The racing path is one that forces the uncautious, or maybe thrill-seeking, racer into risking impact with planetary class shields protecting the observers from potential crashes or detonation and letting them watch with all of the passive interest of beings with lifespans measured in the rise and fall of planetary governments.

"A reprieve from the fantastic splendors of the Menagerie, viewers! The race has moved into the primary observation station that the exalted Hutts use to enjoy the park and the entertainments brought by those who have slighted Rullti, their court or their close acquaintances! Close quarters racing to be enjoyed! Technical and speed put through its paces! And constructed with materials from Bespin! Likely from B'Rot Minerals!"

The path, while straightforward in its widening curves, presents a whole danger of its own; a poor mistake could lead to a crash or pile-up and at seemingly random points the durasteel gives way to what would have been glassed floor ports that lack panes; a hazard that could lend racers to suddenly drop to the swamps below. But as the final curve is found; the path seems to go into a tunnel.

"Nerys, the one in the lead? And Tovani Enno, this is the one we are betting on? Good to know, and that seems like a fair deal. Ten to three." Settling in a bit Ryu closes his eyes for a moment taking a breath and then opening them with a smile, as a loud growl emits from his stomach. "Services? Well I offer most things to get food in my stomach. About 1 maybe 2 out of three times when someone tries to hit me I get out of the way, and I miss about half the time I fire a pistol. Oh, also I know flawed Echani martial arts. So you could say I offer a little bit of everything to my employers"

Nerys, clear of the living obstacles, now found herself dashing at breakneck speed towards the non-living. Which, really, was her every day. Just ask the tall blond watching from the stands. The stories he could tell. But, perhaps better not to ask. "Watch it, Bitty, it's going to get hairy now." Just now? "I don't want you getting scraped off my back at the worst time possible!" And then they were off, weaving through the mirror and durasteel jungle, the bike juking when it should have jived, and scraping away a whole layer of paint. "This is why I only get rentals! And insurance, yeah?" And they were off again, trying to make up for lost speed and position. Smol droid, seeing Sebulba coming for their necks, threw up two of her hands, using all six fingers to full advantage as she flipped off the Dug.

Xavier looks over to B'haav, his expression flattening. "Doc, has anyone told you that you've got a wicked sense of humour?" Said with the comedic timing of a dead loth cat. To Ryu, the Echani gets a pondering once-over. "With those creditials, you're certainly not kidding about the 'little of everything.' Might I suggest picking a few specialities and working on more of it? It will certainly merit more food on the plate at the end of the day." The cig stick burns down just a little more. "But to be honest, the hit-to-miss ratio of weaponry is universally skewed against our favour."

Tovi is glad to be alive yet to continue racing so that when she gets a friendly 'hello' from Sebulba there is a brief double take and a mutter "E chu ta!" The Wroonian in her gold helmet bares down on the next length, glad for no organic surprises and leaning heavily into the curves and turns. Watching as the two ahead of her stumble through the length, scraping the sides of the narrow path she weaves left and up against the side as her bike sways ands she guns it, passing Sebulba as two fingers lift to press to her gold helmet and salute him as she passes him right back.

There is a race to be had and the woman has someone else to catch. Nerys struggles through but recovers gracefully. She hits the throttle when she clears Sebulba in an effort to regain what was lost.

"Gods speed me along."

From living obstacles into a fine mess of non-living obstacles and tight spaces. Now this is more like it. David keeps to the sides of the path, occasionally switching lanes from left to right to pass the conspicuously non-floored areas. It's like the whole place is a death trap! And with his close personal non-sponsor Mandl having non-personally provided the metals, it's unlikely to end well, should the pilot smash his bike into any walls. So, he simply doesn't do that. It's really that easy!

From the murky green, yellow and burning orange lights of the hutt pleasure viewing to claustrophobic darkness illuminated only by the headlamps of swoops, vision enhancing visors, android optics or natural gifts of genetics. The width and height uncertain, and the confusion made only worse by sudden flaring lumen strips that blaze in brilliant colour, giving image burn warnings for the dangers coming.

Panels begin swinging from floor, ceiling and even the walls of the tunnel - put into hard relief by the displays of crowds cheering, the gran Gutu's ecstatic face and even images of the racers themselves broadcast to either side, above and then below in the obstacle tube that begins glowing golden with the holodisplay. A color matched to the sparking from Sebulba and the Sanyassan's swoops. Arms moving to scrub goggles or pat out small fires where they can to the absolute delight of the watching fans in their stands and boxes.

Flowing direction bars start to appear - vision impairing clouds of glitter and laser lights that chase.

All towards a checkered, black and white, line that approaches; with it the dim glow of natural light, the cooler heat of the marsh lands and the brilliant cacophony of the crowds.

And a ramped jump.

"LADIES AND GENTLEBEINGS! THIS IS IT! THE HOME STRETCH! SPACE AND STARS WHAT A COMPETITION WE'VE SEEN TODAY!!!"

B'haav is distracted by the race, looking up to the holoemitters to see the standings and note the Wroonian's progress. There's a near-close-call with Nerys, but his money remains on this Tovani Enno as he knows the maintenance history of that Zephyr swoop. He claps as they both make moves around the venerable Dug, a smile on his face as he watches the competition unfold. A question from Xavier pulls his attention back though, and the smile falls away. "I don't believe anyone has ever implied that I have much of a sense of humor, Xavier. I'd have to think on it, but I think this is the first time." Still, B'haav's not much sure what he said to qualify for such a statement. He turns to Ryu, eyebrow still raised.

"That is certainly a widespread resume, but I'm sure there's more than that on it. You seem to have a renaissance approach. I just... Find things, and get things to those that need them. And sometimes I help with other problems." The doctor of sorts leaves it at that.

"I'll take your advice into consideration. But if little bit of anything is worth a bit of credits you have my 'content' card as it is called?" Ryu beams remembering the term he was just taught just today. "Well, maybe if I ever lose anything B'haav I can inquire about your own services? But hearing you called doc? I'm very sure I'll probably need one of those in the near future" A slight grin spread across the Echani's face.

"Quit making friends back there, don't think I don't know what you're doing!" Nerys had eyes in the back of her head, didn't you know? No really, it was the helmet. But, she had little time to focus on what smol droid was doing, as they zoomed off into and through the tunnel, the swoop dancing and making for good holovids, because that was the game, right? It really was too bad her hair wasn't flying back in her own breeze. What a picture. And then they were out, the swoop, a little worse for wear but giving it all she had, skimmed down to follow the lines for the final stretch. The engines revved up into the red as the pair made their final approach to the line.

Brother Bizz comes in late to the viewing stands carrying his Hutt-style Munchie Box, complete with Huttese snack staples like live nut-beetles, fried Nala tree frog legs, zoochberry dumplings, and a giant decorative mug of Huttese Boga Noga ale in the shape of a Hutt lord. He bites into a handful of nut-beetles with a loud CRAWNCH. "By the FORCE, it's neck and neck!"

As she gains second position, Tovani is grinning inside that helmet with its displays glowing before her eyes. She wants to cry out in joy as she pulls past the experienced driver and tails Nerys just as the colorful displays open up and the cheering crowds do more than engine fuel could to get that bike going. Showmanship. Tovi loves it and its the thrill that she shares with the crowd as she revs the engine, while evening out.

The ground begins to be eaten up by her passing. The sudden jerks of the throttle throws her foreward as she reaches the space just before the ramp.

The bike rears, levels before throwing her forward up over that ramp and into the air as she leans slightly to raise a hand at the crowd as she sails through the air before touching down with both hands back on the controls. Giddiness still runs through her from the thrill of the jump.

Home stretch! David leans on his swoop's handlebars, attempting to squeeze ever last bit of acceleration out of the vehicle as it speeds along. Right towards the ramp. Staying in his leaning position, David pulls the craft up a bit to protect the front of it as the angle shifts suddenly, unnaturally into the ramp structure. This is fine, this is going to be fine. The speeder clears the ramp, soaring majestically through the air for a moment or two. It'd be a picture worthy of the front page of the sports section, if it wasn't happening at a break-neck speed that's nearly impossible to capture. Also the landing is.. less than stellar. Gravity outmatches the repulsorlifts for a moment, grinding the bottom of David's swoop against the ground before it's pushed back up and David crosses the finish line with the greatest of ease (there were no obstacles left).

Xavier stares at B'haav a moment longer; the Balosar's answer all the more perplexing. "No one has, doc. Not even me. You're definitely one to take words at their literal value, though. Noted." His cigarette burned about as far as it can go before it starts disappearing between his two fingers, Xavier snuffs out the glowing cherry into the sponsor box railing and flicks the nub into the roaring crowd at an arch.

"HERE IT IS! HERE. IT. IS!" Gutu is flailing his arms and the dancers have stopped dancing - all watching the race, the jump! THE FLYING RACERS!! "SPACE AND STARS! NEWCOMER TOVANI ENNO AND VETERAN NERYS GREYSTORM ARE PRACTICALLY SHOULDER TO SHOULDER!!!" The crowd is absolutely ecstatic. "Sebulba is close! He's taking the leap just ahead of Ironside while the rest keep it close and careful! Gentlebeings! This. Is. Astounding!!!"

The thick atmosphere, repulsor buffers closer to the ground. Allowing the pilots to control some of their descent, over the flailing vines, carnivorous plants and worse below. Even the voices of the hutts can be heard at the display presented for their entertainment. For the sparks shooting out from the near crashes. For the engaged turbolasers that fill the air with fire that would threaten even hardened cruisers.

"Here they come! HERE THEY COME!!"

The final leg requires droid sensors and holo-recordings to confirm the winner. The only thing that can be told for sure; Sebulba takes third.

And there it was. The finish line. And here was Nerys and Bitty (clearly the best backup driver anyone could ask for), coming down the lane, neck and next with the wroonian. Ah this was the way, wasn't it? Clear and easy to finish it all out. Just the feel of the swoop rumbling, engines whining, and Bitty reaching out to offer a fist bump to Tovani. Only in spirit though, they were not close enough to actually bump fists.

B'haav continues to applaud the racers as the race seems to be drawing to its climax, but again the steel grey eyes turn to look at Xavier again, considering. Maybe calculating. But it's the flick of a tabacc butt into the crowd that pulls B'haav's attention back to the fore and the emitters as the racers come in to the final stretch in what will certainly be a photo finish! "I suppose I am," says the Balosar quietly, before more applauding and he adds his voice to the crowd, trying to verbally encourage his bet's carrier to win.

"Go Tovani Enno!" He's not sure if he would win or lose, if someone *had* taken the bet.

That last stretch is thankfully without surprise events as Tovi tries to push the bike harder than she had before. She glances aside to see Nerys beside her as they roar towards the finish line. Engines are on tilt at this point. When she glances again at her opponent she has to do a double take. Is that a droid fist aimed at her as they wobble back and forth. Yes...yes it is.

Tovi keeps a tight grip on her swoop and shifts her weight to the side as she leans over, the bike swaying and tilting just a little with the wroonian's daring grip, legs locking hard to brace her as she bumps a gloved hand to the droid's mechanical one and then draws it back to spread her fingers. They may not touch but she gets as close as she can.

EXPLOSION!

Smol droids makes another friend as the Wroonian rights her bike to cross the finish line.

Fyrris has been quiet, eyes wide - that final stretch, the hair-breadth distance between the first and second place pilots. What could the talkative Codru have to say of this? What could the gabby bar owning gambler have to add to commentary?

"Huh."

Eloquent.

"Indeed, sir."

Ryu gives a low whistle at the photo finish fist bump, and then gives a chuckle. "Do we get to meet the racers after? Will there be a party or celebration? Or are they destine to run off into the murky sunset?" Ryu gets up and moves to the edge of the box, taking in the crowd, and then spying a few food vendors. Concessions on the slug homeworld have to be safe to eat. "Couple of fried lizards on me?" He glances back to B'haav and Xavier.

Bizz spills some of his nut-beetles as he leans forward to squint at the holo. "Who won?! The blue girl or the white girl? It was so close!" He takes errant beetles and dips them in his zoochberry dumplings' sauce, then CRUNCHES them. CRUNCH CRUNCH. Then he guzzles that Boga Noga ale in the Hutt-shaped mug to wash them down.

The race is over and to say that Xavier is disappointed wouldn't be too far of a stretch. "All those lovely beasts and no one was even eaten." Speaking of eaten, Ryu offers him a lizard on a stick and Xavier's smile is a mixture of 'I've not been that desperate in the a while' and 'though I am terribly curious.' "Perhaps another time, my friend," is the true answer given. "Or better yet, perhaps will meet back on Nar Shaddaa where the food at least looks like food. We can discuss your services over, I don't know, a bowl of noodles or something."

Khalim watches in something like wonder as Tovani pulls in second, though a respectful nod is given at the sight of Nerys pulling just a hair ahead. Both good wins. "If you'd have listened to me you'd have made a few credits," he says, turning to the Sarkhai at his right, who's now slumped over the bartop, in a lum-induced stupor. "Best of luck," he chuckels, rising from his stool to go and find the winner's circle, for some in-person congratulations.

David glides his swoop off the track almost immediately after finishing, the fact that he didn't place in the top three enough reason not to partake in a celebratory lap. He moves deftly off the machine after deactivating the engine, guiding it the rest of the way into the engine pit. The pilot sighs at his astromech, then shrugs. "There's always next time. Give me a cockpit any day, right?" to which the droid happily agrees. At least that way Ones can tag along! David moves back towards the track-side exit, awaiting the disembarking of the two that came in first and second.

Nerys, once the swoop had powered down, which, given the sheer speed at which she had been running, required her to do a few loops at the end, finally came back to the pit area. Bitty, who had been fist bumped, immediately went about unlocking herself, zooming up to see if she could find her new bestie, as Nerys made to try to get to the section of the stands where Kael had been sitting. She did not forget to, on her way, offer congratulations to her fellow racers. They made it out alive. It was a win for everyone.

"Sounds good to me, always a pleasure to make another associate or employer. Though I think I'll take the risk, and enjoy some fine swampy cuisine while I'm here." Ryu gives a salute to the others. "A pleasure, off for some grub and whatever else lies ahead." Exiting the box the Echani slides into the crowd, first a stop for some fried lizard, and then attempting to make his way to wherever the victory celebration will be.

The gran announcer waves to the cameras as the last of the racers slip in, the ranat and sanyassan looking shaken and Sebulba tearing into his craft crew with a level of venom that'd poison a water reservoir if the dug did it too close to such. "Ladies -and- Gentlebeings! That concludes our race today with winners Nerys Greystorm, newcomer Tovani Enno and third place to Sebulba!" the self same dug being -extremely- friendly towards Tovi. He's -so- friendly. The friendliness coming off of the dug is something to go into the books for etiquette 101.

So friendly

Pyrotechnics and glitter is in the air as the lights swing around anew in celebration.

"Be ready for the next race on Sluis Van in the Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit and remember to drop by the Pazaak and Tabac on Nar Shaddaa for the after party where racers drink free! Thank you! We'll see you next time, I'm Gutu Phluu and this is THE INTER-RIM SWOOP RACES!!!!"