Log:Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit - Qualifiers

Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit - Qualifiers

OOC Date: July 31 2021
Location: Jervo's World - Panto System
Participants: Netep Muri, David Ironside, Eriu Jynx, Nerys Greystorm, Zelo Parrai, Narsai Ordo, Wrrlryyhn, Hahtavi Kora, Bizz Bliptettjupp, Aryn Cortess and Reverberate as GM

"Jervo's World is PROUD to present the first of the Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit races!)" silver suited with three 'clip' shaders over each of his eyes, the Gran announcer Gutu Phluu appears upon a raised dais amidst smoke and rainbow pyrotechnics. Two lines of scantily clad male and female dancers suddenly arching from behind him through the smoke and flashing lights. Holoemitters projecting the gran and the dancers into the middle of the Star Crisis course.

"Brought to you by Shim Productions, The Galaxy's premiere boutique party planners! and The Pazaak and Tabac - Nar Shadaa's most luxurious music, cigarra and gambling hall!" more holo-fireworks fill the air as racers are ushered out to the starting zones. "Gentlebeings! From the planet Sneeve, Gaggi Flynn, from Rydar II, Otho'oku Baj!" the sneevel and ranat walking to their swoop bikes with raised arms. "And a special racer to join us today... SEBULBA!" the famous racing dug loping out, switching from upper to lower feet until climbing onto the outsized repulsor engine bearing swoop bike of mustard yellow and burning orange color.

"But let us not forget our newer racers to the circuit!" spotlights falling on the entryways, for the other racers to be introduced.

David Ironside walks out, waving to the crowd, the holocams and whatever else happens to be moving in his peripheral vision. His swoop's already out there, and the pilot makes a quick last-minute walk around it, stopping at the front to inspect the blades. Satisfied that they're both fixed in place and fully functional, he zips his jacket shut and slides his goggles over his eyes. Looking around, his attention is mainly on Sebulba for several reasons. One, that guy's been around, why isn't he retired yet? Two, wasn't he a podracer? THREE, were the vintage posters lying to him?!

Nubri zips her own jacket shut, smirking as she gets onto a new swoop, lacking any trimmings an actual racing one could need, looking over "Hey, Dave! Ready to lose!" she jokes with a small smile "I was ready to have Swoops look at my tail, but... it seems she isn't here to see it." she muses, looking at Sebulba and frowning. Well, seems she won't be first, if that ever was a remove possibility

Having chosen a seat with a view, Eriu Jynx has provided a beverage for herself as she sips from the contents just as the festivities begin. The race is given a critical eye as the dancers are projected outwards in the less vivacious form that are holoimages. SIP.

As the racers come out she glances aside and over at the others to see just how everyone is reacting. A curious look crosses her face as she weighs how each is received with the minutes that pass by.

SIP

She slow claps in any case at each new face.

Nerys Greystorm was not a known figure in the circuit, that was true. But, she had been working her way around the galaxy at some of the Hutt-sponsored races, placing first and second in the two most recent. And so, perhaps she was know to some. Not, that the small redhead seemed much interested in that, as she stepped out from where she had been sitting in the participants area, the smol ID10 droid settling in her now vacated space as a living (for some value of living) placeholder.

As Nerys stepped out into the spotlight, the announcement was almost sedate, for such contests. The onus of being one of the new riders on the circuit. "Nerys Greystorm, of the Corellian Greystorms," this was not helpful in identification, if the mildly confused looks from some were in evidence. Ah well, Nerys walked on, moving towards the swoop she had chosen for the night. They might not know her name //now//, but who knew what the night held?

Zelo Parrai is out of his armor. It would not be so if someone hadn't taken him aside to... Lecture him on how certain things may look. Besides, he isn't representing any Mandalorians. He isn't representing anyone except himself in a unique opportunity to test his skills. The Nautolan with cobalt-blue skin and midnight whorls spiraling and pattering across his face is wearing a Corellian swoop pilot's outfit - a last-minute purchase in alternating shades of orange and yellow in a slanting pattern. He doesn't wave to the crowd or try to vie for favor or attention - simply strolls to the simple swoop he's rented for the race. It isn't customized, but that's fine. He's just here to drive.

"Just here to have... Fun." The Nautolan reminds himself under his breath as he climbs onto the swoop. Shooter's fingers rise to one tendril, where a golden yellow feather has been tied, and he looks about the crowd one more time before turning his black-pool eyes to the course.

Swoop racing was dangerous, competative and often likely to result in injury or death...and Narsai had loved the idea of it since she was a small girl. Having built her first repulsor bike in her free time between training with her clan during childhood, many an afternoon had been filled with youths of clan Ordo had been rushing over the dunes and wilds on the backs of unstable machines pretending they were the Basilisk riders of ancient times.

This was a little more serious than those little games, but that didn't stop the redhead from giving a little smile to herself as she stepped out and secured the T-visored helmet in place. Her armor would function for a swoop suit!r "Narsai Ordo of Clan Ordo" was introduced, moving her way towards the red-painted Mobquet Flare-S that had spent far more time on scouting missions than ever racing.

Wrrlyyhn has a new rental! The Swoop was a bit roomier than the last time she tried to race, but still seemed a bit, undersized, for the Wookiee. Nonetheless, as the spotlight befell her, she waved and warbled happily to the crowd. "wrall rwal.. rwowoal wrall woeieowl worieowl rwowoal rallr grarrrl?!" The Announcer did not seem familiar with Wookie, though the complaints were muffled, finally, over the mic, "rwal? rwarrl woeieowl!" Well, it was close. Dressed in her armor, she fitted helmet over her head and climbed on the slightly undersized swoop.

Wasaka (21433) repeats after Wrrlryyhn, "Wrr rabll.. How am I supposed to pronounce this?! Wrlerrinnain? A Wookiee!"

Is there a track more befitting of Netep's nature and her style than the 'Star Crisi' Arena? Neon sprays of color, foggy deception (like her smokes), an ever-shifting rocky bottom (from all sides!), and last-minute changes of plan which her impuslive tendencies can wholly appreciate.

It remains to be seen whether her skeleton or the Nightfalcon doomed to carry it thusly through the course will be of similar sentiment by the time this race is over. For now, Muri's looking mightily unconcerned, well-rested, and eager to shake the dust off the speeder bike she's much ignored of late. The poor thing.

"Nnnnetep Muriiii! Of Nar Shaddaa's Explorer's Guild and ---" There may have been something inappropriate tagged in there that Muri added for shavs&grins but the announcer's taken note and smoothly transitions "shakin' off the rust in her Ikas-Adno Nightfalcone..."

She steps into the light on cue, waving both hands amiably at the spectators she can certainly hear but not much see after making the mistake of squinting IN to that light. The Explorer's Guild's little Lorrdian (mutt) trots onward to her trusty old steed and hops into saddle. It's a bit of a climb. Once mounted, there's no doubt it's a compensation piece. Her indigo glove comes up with a creak of leather to fit the faceshield into place after offering up a "Ol'val, min dul'skal, ahn clear skies!" to the racers nearest her. It's said with a grin, probably friendly.

Some have not come to race. There are also /spectators/ and among the many in the crowd there is a Mandalorian who insists at standing near a railing in a side access asile rather than taking a seat. Hahtavi has his armored forearms crossed on the railing, protected by the huge repulsors to keep things from slamming into the stands where he and many others are watching. Of course he might see the action best on a holoprojection seated in the station's bar or from the comfort of a hotel room, but no... he's got his helmet optics to do his own zoomins and a variety of filters to augment what he's looking at.

The crowd above and to his right cheer in the stands, many shouting for their favorite racers as the vehicles take off! The Mandalorian in the stands keeps his helmet on, armed, and perhaps came because he knows a number of the racer pilots. That or maybe he's bet credits on the racers.

Aged compared to the humans and near-humans about, Dug lifepans are different. Old but not too old to race in pod OR swoops, it seems! While the course itself begins the first shifts in the holo-course lines being set out, pulsing oscillating colors that 'move' in the direction of the right way to go.

One of the asteroids contained in the course drifts past the starting zone, repelled from threatening the racers before the course can start.

"Now remember, gentlebeings - if you're looking to have a proper celebration at future viewings of the Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit races, you can't go wrong with Shim Productions. Whether it's the Race-Day party, or the After-Party, contact Shim Productions for an event that your friends will praise and your enemies will envy for years to come!"

The anticipation builds, the crowd silences as the deflector shields that protect the stands and the dome above the raceway itself suddenly blazes red. "Gentlebeings! We are about to begin! Racers -READY-" Gutu calls out.

"REEAAADY!" Red again.

"SET" A shining sun-like gold.

Shields and the dome become a blazing bright GREEN and a horn blares over sound systems in time with the announcer shouting "GOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Muri is the one name that Eriu is absolutely certain of but with the galaxy as wide and varied as it is she can not be entirely sure about the other familiar names from the distance she is at. She rises up as other cheers or choose their favorites in that moment only for the Hapan to smirk and hmmph a bit. "I suppose Shadowport is not as upstanding as I had hoped." She clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth before placing thumb and ring finger into her mouth to let out a shrill whistle at Muri.

Only then does she settle back to get a view of the participants on a larger scale upon the larger screen. When Sebulba is annoucned a few of the creatures closest to her go a little too wild. Sudden showers of unknown beverages and bits of confetti'd food began to hale down around. "Hey....settle yourselves! This is Hapan silk!" She is shooting looks at those who can not hear her above their own joyous celebrations. "Definitely should have gone with the jacket...." this is said as she plucks at a piece of green vegetation from her shoulder and the bits in her hair are missed as a quick brush of her hand follows. "And an umbrella."

As soon as the green light comes on, David pushes both hands forward to accelerate, initially being pushed back into his comfortable racing seat. Being that the road ahead is a straight shot, he doesn't give too much of a thought to steering and control. Just going fast in the initial sprint as everyone's together trying to get ahead. Only some racers come ahead of him, among whom Sebulba. David's eyes narrow as the Dug passes, almost standing up to push those handlebars forward. The pilot's hair waves wildly around at this speed, but the goggles make sure none of it gets in his sight. Which is good, because now David gets to look at his gauges and whatnot!

Nubri pushes herself forward, pressing the accelerator as she rides, her hair not swooshing dramatically in the wind, since it is too short for that. Try to get past the sprint... beat the Nautolan. It is all that matters, there is no time to get physical... no. She just needs to fight forwards and work more carefully

Nerys, who settled onto her bike as soon as she had finished the inspection, waited in idle as the rest of the field arrayed themselves. Not being much of a pod race enthusiast, well, Sebulba was noted, but there was no girlish screaming coming from the Corellian, though he heard more than a few of those in the crowd, not to mention a faint or two. Well, he was clearly a 'Big Deal'. But, that was neither here nor there, as the racers were moved up to the front of the line, and set to the task. As soon as the signal was given, Nerys gunned the engine. A wise person would have, perhaps, allowed herself time to settle into the bike and learn its foibles. But... Nerys was a wise person. Said no one ever. She was off, zipping along the track, helmet masking her face, but, if it could be seen, she was clearly having the time of her life, no matter where she ended up in the pack.

And they are off! Lots of flashing lights, glitz, colors, loud noises! So much not Hahtavi's kind of place. But with his HUD feeding him data and his 360 degree view while wearing his helmet, it's not like somebody's going to sneak up on him even here. He stands a bit apart from the main seating so he has space around him rather than people on top of him.

No cheering, merely watching. His only reaction is when Zelo's craft pulls out ahead to take the initial lead, Hahtavi shakes a gloved fist in the air in silent encouragment!

For all anyone could know, the Mandalorian could be yellingh his head off inside of his helmet!

From the moment the shield lights shift from red to gold, the audience, the other swoops, the wandering asteroids... Everything falls away as Zelo's eyes focus on the course. The shifting colors and their clues for the path ahead. He hadn't had the time to study any previous course layouts or even warm up the swoop. All he hopes for is that it will be up to the demands he offers it. The gold light seems to linger for what could be minutes or an hour, but in reality is measured in a few rapid pulses of Nautolan heartsbeat. Exhaling as slowly as he can, the Nautolan releases the swoop to open throttle and the machine screams for it, leaping a full vehicle length ahead before smoothing into a more... Responsible acceleration.

Looking about for the moment, color-coded course not throwing any surprised just yet, Zelo notes Nubri and Sebulba - a name he's pretty sure he heard as a young Nautolan growing up on Glee Anselm - but his race is not one of fighting. He's only here to run the course as thoroughly as he possibly can. Leaning forward, tendrils trail in the wind, and that one gold-yellow feather remains securely tied in place as it cuts through the wind.

From the back of the pack Narsai wasn't quite making a triumphant start, her armored form on the bike pulled low to try and keep the drag down. So far the Mandalorian warrior wasn't a contender for the lead, but as a sudden suction of gravel chips into the turbine of the bike sends with it a surge of angry noises and flaring lights from her bike's engines.

It's probably fine, right?

Wrrlyyhn shouted a loud whoop as the light flashed to green. With an ignition of the engine, and hitting the accelerator, her swoop lept forward. She leaned her weight forward, keeping her weight balanced over her bike. With a glance around herself, she was pleased to note she was in the center-ish of the pack. And she hadn't crashed yet, this was going well!

Ready...Steady...

"May the Guardian hold us t'gether, eh?" Muri's hunched forward, knees tucked and hugging the bike's frame while she talks to it. A bit more exposed to the hazards than some of the swoop pilots, those with twin engine housing flared to either side like an explosive buffer, she's made herself as small and as one with the vehicle as can be! Drek happens though, so in the event that girl's gotta bail, there's the reassuring snugness of her Iyra Gravity Belt fitted around waist to make her potential fall a little less terrible. Let the audience get a good, long look at her before she's reduced to pink mist by another racer. Even in Low-G, high speed dismounts can be...an exciting line in one's obituary.

GO!

The Nightfalcon goes, spurred hot off the pad by its colorful rider. It's not the fastest speederbike - certainly not as fast as many swoops available on market - but what it lacks in skin-peeling speed, it makes up for in maneuverability. As the initial launch becomes a swiftly distancing memory, Muri finds herself about middle of the sprinting pack. "Good girl," she murmurs inside the cool, filtered air of helmet. The intensifying G's buffeting her helmet make it ill advised to crane her neck too far in either direction, but quick and pointed glances are fired every which way as she prepares for the first maneuver of the race!

A surging initial run seeing the starting race positions locked in, the crowd becomes ecstatic for the commencement of the action, "Gentles! An amazing initial start with racers Zelo, Nubri and Sebulba exploding into the front of the pack, closely chased Ironside, The Wookiee and Netep Muri!" The first turn tighter and not without odd twists or turns, especially in the forms of shifting lanes bringing racers closer or further apart. With impacts sparking off of vehicle hulls and some of the shifting holo-course lines making for the practically ridiculous. The turn itself wending its way between several small asteroids that seem to be caught in a mutual gravitational orbit.

"Where will we find our racers as they come through the turn?! It's been a clean race so far as well, great specimens! Just like those found in Nezwump's Meat Lumps! The Outer Rim's premier Meat and Gravy meal for those on the go, or a budget! Nezwump's Meat Lumps! Livin' in that Nutrient Gravy!"

Lights flare holo-lightning made out of rainbows across the field as the racers leave the turn, mixed up and maneuvering among themselves. Exciting, but clearly not exciting enough for the droid-brains operating the gravity projectors moving the floating space stones and the race-way lines themselves.

A crack like a thunderclap and a bomb detonation sounds as a pair of small asteroids impact with one another - the holo-path shifting and splitting into an oscillating set of figure-eight patterns that also rise and dip to shift elevations almost drunkenly after the first turn ends. Gravity-systems create spiraling loops for racers to travel down and a hair-pin turn before coming to the, "The Star Crisis has spoken! Our racers are nearing the Crash Waves, gentlebeings!!" The multi-colored track lines being weaving paths away and between the racers; presenting the risk of flying through a sudden debris field or into one another. Unsurprisingly the particular way moving through the debris having shallower turns and a shorter passage than the safer weave.

The dome and deflectors continue their shift of colors, pale pastels of aqua, cobflower blue and deep pink that pulse and swirl with wild waves 'splashing' from the fronts of the racers bikes relative to the quadrant looking at them.

Asteroid field. Just like normal! Well, normal for David, not for swoop races. He zooms right into the danger, working the handlebars like he'd never done any different in his life, right towards the point where two space-rocks are about to meet. Luckily, before they do, David manages to scoot by, rather than rock-blocking. Which would just be rude. The pilot gives a glance to the path ahead, weaving its rainbow-colored light through the controlled debris with the casual confidence of an ace pilot. His attention is solely on his own handling, and absolutely zero of it goes to his fellow racers.

A shortcut? Well, there Nubri flies into, trying to navigate past the debris, through the loops and to keep her position up front, still leant forwards. Swoops would be proud of her, she feels. And Dave's face! She might even beat him! And hopefully she won't need to patch anyone up once she is done

The Swoop racers have gone too fair afield, in admist the rolling astroids, for Hahtavi to still have a clear view as they have arced away into the distance. He uses his helmet's optics to zoom in and follow the action as far as he can but as they go through the course, at times he looses sight of them. At those times he pauses to turn his T-visored helmet to look towards one of the viewing screens set up for the arena spectators to keep track of the action until the swoop rcers come back around through the course.

To himself, inside of his helmet, the Mandalorian watching the race breathes, "Come on, ner vod! You got this, Zelo. K'oyacyi!" Of course, no one hears his monologue outside of Hahtavi's helmet.

Was there any way to go but swoop to the wall? No, there was not! Nerys, listening to the announcer, adjusted course, dibing right into the obstacle course that the Crash Waves represented. Not a good idea, not a good idea at all. But, if anyone was close enough to hear the woman (no one was), she was squealing to herself in the helmet. Was she supposed to ride the waves or avoid them? Nerys didn't know. She went for trying to ride them, apparently deciding to see if she could use the tumbling debris to jump from meter to meter on the course. Like skipping stones...on stones. There was no way this could end badly. Right? Right?!

Spoiler Alert: This ended badly, and Nerys was soon ejected from the tops of the rocks and into the midst of them, the swoop jacking this way and that as the rocks impacted with her swoop, completely ruining the paintjob. Good thing it was a rental, as she finally managed to zip out of the field and back onto the course, one hand lifting in triumph, at least for a second, before she gripped the controls again. Haha! Still alive!

Zelo is processing the explosions of information as best he can, trying to weave around meteors in the middle of the first major turn. The color trail he's on leads directly towards a pair of the obstacles and leaving him little choice but to cut through. The line is imperfect and he has to let off the throttle for a moment. One, brief moment, but it's enough for another swoop with a cleaner line to slide past and around. Second place now. Zelo's continuing to fight for the place he's in, but also turning those black pool eyes to the gauges as he tries to coax more speed out of the already-screaming rental swoop. The machine objects, but concedes and pushes further, leaving the venerable Dug further behind.

The detonating sound has Zelo diving his head lower as the collision and thunderclap scatters all sense and rainbow explosions divert into a path of little-to-no sense. Weaving about, trying to follow the colors, Zelo shakes his head, spares a glance up to the crowd, then takes a deep breath and trusts the path ahead. Full on, no hesitation. Breathe out. Debris? Shifting? Just breathing, the Nautolan opens the throttle wide.

Some gambles pay off, some don't! Narsai's struggling bike zips into the debris field from the back of the pack, but quickly the woman finds herself pelted with shrapnel.

While at first the stubborn pelting against her armor barely slows her down, one particularly large asteroid threatens to pulverize her off her swoop entirely!

In a suprising moment of handling and performance, the Ordo girl turns the battered Flare-S sideways, managing to swerve herself under the deadly collision and keep herself powering on!

Wrr was cruising along. The sudden flare of lights and course changes through the hairy racer. She spun out, and then began an uncontrolled barrel roll. She slowed and used all her skill and strength to pull herself out of the spin. She has slowed considerably, as she set herself back to the easier, of the somewhat longer track.

Admist the celebrants that go a little sour as some of the other's take the lead over their favored, Eriu laments not having protective gear. The sticky ground should have been an obvious sign the momen she walked into the stands. Her attention shifts to the screen that allows them stationary fans the ability to watch the high powered and fast antics unfold from their safe perches. Safe!? Ha!

More bits of unknown liquid and food pepper her as she sighs and brushes them off, making a face. Slowly she edges further away from the more excited patrons. Her attention shifts back to the screen to watch a few spinouts and trouble that could have caused a rather spectacular crash.

Muri's Nightfalcon weathers the abuse, maintaining a seriously steady speed under its rider's urging. How long will it endure the push remains to be seen but for now, she's rolling aside to follow the first turn and comes out of it just a weee bit ahead. Three or four racers remain ahead - two of them not so much visible as they disappear amid the drifting debris field. Muri guides the bike underneath a few little rocky bits just before the CRASH coincides with a gorgeously rainbowed shower overhead and things ... well, they get weird. Muri likes it weird.

The figure-eight is indulged with ease and she blurs by a Wookiee having a hard time. And...is that the mighty Sebulba just ahead? Getting a little extra curvy with her weaving, the 'walking kaleidoscope' Muri rides the Dug's tail until suddenly, she's around!!! Just in time to watch the track play its tricks and leave her in a tough decision to make. It's during soul-searching moments like this that she oft turns to Fizzpop Fortune wisdoms for answers. She's memorized her collection of caps pretty thoroughly.

There's no shortcut to any place worth going Muri snorts disagreement to the voice in her head. It's not worth doing. Behind her visor, Netep's eyes widen just a smidge, under assault by negative Fortune vibes. It's not too late cautions a third fortune in mind except that it is. It IS too late to veer off track and endure the scenic route. You're not in danger, just paranoid.

Netep Muri goes all in.

Bizz Bliptettjupp comes in late to the viewing area. The plump monk has a cardboard tray filled with fritzle fries, Mantell Mix, live nut-beetles, and what must be a facsimile of the rare Gungan snack called Soshinday blobball which looks like a giant green egg. He stares up at the viewscreens as the leaderboards begin to populate.

"Some impressive piloting! We're not surprised after that little back-tumble she had that Wrrlryyhn is keeping to the safer path. Never doubt a wookiee for common sense! Thinking they lack it is a sure sign that you do for certain!" Holo-fireworks explode in a virtual firestorm of colors when the racers pass through, old Sebulba (middle aged for a Dug) suffering from those first few pangs of one's age getting to them when a series of heavy stones suspended in the raceway twist him one way, then another, practically spilling the four handed creature into Zero-G, rather than just at the rear of the pack with the tail-end of his swoop belching smoke and sparks.

"I'd bet her common sense brings her to the Pazaak and Tabac later after the races to celebrate making it through one of Jervo's World's most trying courses! Where she and others can sit back, relax, play cards and enjoy some of the best live music and cigarra to be found on all of Nar Shaddaa! The real Gem of Hutt Space! The Pazaak and Tabac. Soon, we hear, to be featuring something from Shim Productions; because the best can only compliment the best!"

The rainbow hued holo-lanes breaking into a dizzying, weaving, visual cacophony that forces racers to either take an individual race lane or risk being forced to be stuck behind whomever is further up the positions than they are. "Gentles! The course is shifting again as we pass the halfway mark! Look at it loop! Look at it split! Welcome to PANDAMONIUM SPIRALS! where our racers will have to keep their eye on the line or they just may be re-routed to exactly where they don't want to be!"

The lanes switch and weave with grav-projectors set to hurl bikes and swoops off course if they can't keep up with the wildly shifting pathways, overwhelming light flashes, and the noise... noise... NOISE of the crowd all around them!

David perks up when the single road suddenly forks into three. At this speed, there's barely seconds to choose, and so David follows one of the lines into the all-caps spirals with a casual disregard for any indicator of which way is quicker, easier or the opposite extremes. Luckily, that line keeps going, and it's all David needs to stay in the race. With a grin, he continues working the handlebars on his Overracer, occasionally glancing down at the status report display. Of course, being that he's raced a wonderful race SO FAR, there's nothing requiring his immediate attention.

Go! She beat dave! She can wi- wait. Why is the speed dropping... the throttle is reacting oddly. The... something must have broken the swoop. Pull away... she can fix it but... it looks like she is out of the race. Or.... Wait... it seems like the bike is properly responding! How strange. But... she lost some lead, maybe she even was overtaken? All the more reason to give it her all!

As the rocks were left behind, leaving Nerys looking like a real swoop racer (who needed a shiny bike, am I right?) Neryes knuckled down to the course. This was just another day at the office. Three paths, three potential plug holes to get lost in. This was literally Nerys' day job, you guys! She bent her body forward gunning the swoop, pushing it as close to the red as she dared, as Nerys zipped down along the left hand branch, twisting the controls this way and that as she tried to follow the ever changing course. Piece of cake. (Has she spoken too soon? Probably).

As the swoop racers come back around to the area where Hahtavi's in the stands, he no longer has to watch the floating view screens. The action is coming around to close fast on the course! He can see the course shifting, the running lanes tigthening up. He isn't seated in the stands but is standing at a railing in front of a an exit aisle. Probably right where security doesn't really want him to be but he's fully kitted up in battle armor and weapons so who's going to tell him to go sit down?

Again a fist is raised and this time his helmet's vocoder broadcasts his enthusiasm, even if the racer's can't hear him. <"Oya! Get'm, Zelo! You aren't out of it yet, ner vod!"> Maybe Hahtavi's finally get caught up in some of the excitement.

Eriu is not going to survive this barage of excitement from the fans near her in the stands. People have croweded in since the race started and now she does not have much of a view as people climb to their feet. She slips out and aroudn a few with a fluid grace. Her attention glances downwards to the man behind the mask as it were and his call for one of the few racers. She gets close enough and taking up a standing position near one of the open areas that seems to be far less sticky than the rest the woman lifts her fist. "GO MURI!" She whistles again with thumb and ring finger planted beyond her lips.

She shoots the mandalorian a smirk and nod before looking back out over the viewscreens. There is a bit of something still in her hair.

Trying to reclaim some of the ground he had given up with less-than ideal lines, Zelo spares a glance to the temperatures at which his swoop is operating. It's... Not going to give up more than it already has, but... Maybe. It's risky, but Zelo flash-vents the engine, pulling back for a second as more drag lets air roil over the near-combusting hardware, but when the vents snap shut, the engine has found something more to give. Zelo tries to manually PUSH the throttle further, hoping that the machine will respond in kind.

As three paths diverge, the screams of swoop behind, in front, near the side, all mix with the roar and calls of the crowd. The feather tied to one cobalt tendril seems to move in slow motion as it flits through the air while the tendrils whip and trail behind the out-of-armor Mandalorian. Another slow exhalation, another glance up and away from the path ahead and Zelo's swoop veers to the left, choosing a path at the last possible instant and nearly wrecking for the choice. But the line takes him up high on the curve, letting him push down and punch forward as he drops across the bank of the course. Inaudible over the vehicle noise, Zelo's mouth can be seen making a shape that makes his shout unlikely to be anything but, "WOOO!" Who knows - the driver behind him might even hear it for an instant, the way sound travels around here.

This was the first race Aryn can recall observing. It seemed dangerous. Withholding judgment until at least one person dies, Aryn finds a place to purchase a beverage, then find a place to watch. It seems few are actually sitting, which Aryn found it odd that purchasing a seat /to stand/ seemed suspect. Nevertheless, it was 'tradition' according to the loud-mouthed sentient who had come through the ticket booth ahead of Aryn, eager to gab on and on about SEBULBA, and how Sebulba always wins. Aryn didn't even know what a Sebulba was, but she was willing to find out.

Nothing if not stubborn, Narsai's swoop powered on, the beat-up bike screaming its chase after the pack now as she made her way forwards out of the debris field and into the chaos of the Pandamonium Spirals now!

Gravity repulsers surge and slam into her like a ferocious wind, but the Mandalorian manages to hold on and finally gain some decent speed!

Bizz is popping live nut-beetles into his mouth and then CRUNCHING them. So tasty, so much protein! There is a wave from excited fans and a very gregarious Whiphid throws up his arm, jostling the container of nut-beetles, and sending some flying! At least one lands on Eriu Jynx. Brother Bizz spots Aryn Cortess and coughs. "Princess! I am so parched from these spicy beetles! Perhaps you could lend me the money for a frosty beverage?"

If you believe in yourself, anything you do is right.

Damn straight, Fizzpop, but only because Muri's still alive. The ends have justified the means. The Nightfalcon becomes blue arrow, cutting shallow passes over, under, and around the deadly obstacles with margins so narrow there's no room for error. This is her chance to close the gap with Zelo and then inch on ahead of the feather-fluttering Mando. No hesitation, no time for fear. Just pure chaos in this - the straightest line she's ever traversed in her life. The Nightfalcon, to its credit, is sustaining the continuous pressure upon its thrusters, but Muri's muchly in tune with its every vibration under her body, just waiting for a telltale stutter or other sign of struggle. The gauges? They're okay to glance at, too.

If this adrenaline rush doesn't burn off some tension in her life, nothing will.

She's cleared it. "HOOOO!" Muri cries a celebratory note inside the confines of helmet - and to her crew on comlink. Relieved laughter is short lived, of course, because now she's got more choices to make. Draft? Or forge a path less traveled? Hmmmm....

The only way to stay sane is to go crazy.

"Well, okay," Muri mutters back at the Fizzpop wisdom, slow grin spelling her approval. She takes her chances and chases those spastic darts of neon. Begining with an upward thrust and arch to the right that almost leaves her stomach behind. It's a breathless effort, this degree of focus and anticipation. There's a little more comfort involved when dodging her way through asteroid belts in the Hermi, because shields. One's pits start sweating a little more when there's just synthleather, duraweave, and plastoid between one's person and those asteroids. The minute she can peel herself out of this suit, Netep's gonna unleash one potent 'aromatherapy' session of eau du Lorrdian upon the scream tube.

There's a lot of noise in here, so many people shouting and cheering for their favorite racers that the Mandalorian doesn't catch Bizz's voice in the mix. Not yet. But he does notice a woman who comes to stand just a bit to one side of him. With his senses always keyed up to notice if people come close to himself, Hahtavi turns his T-visored helmet to study her - realizing it is <"Eriu Jynx, Su cuy'gar.">

That's also when he notices that a live beetle has landed on her. Why, it looks like a nut beetle. Making certain that Eriu heard him, Hahtavi ssslllooowwwwlllyy reaches out a gloved hand, wanting to be sure that she sees his motion and realizes his intention before reacting in startlement. But if she allows him, the Mandalorian will pluck the beetle off of her and brush away the piece of food in her hair.

<"I see you are enjoying the event. Care for a nut beetle?"> It crawls over his glove looking chipper, waving it's tiny antenna. Bizz and Aryn aren't noticed yet unless they get a bit closer.

Brother Bizz takes Aryn Cortess's frosty beverage and guzzles it, then sets it in the drink receptacle of his cardboard Jervo's World party platter. He grabs another live nut-beetle and dips it in spicy Boontaspiced Mustard, then CRUNCHES it. "Oh I was just on the hunt for clues and found myself near Jervo's World! I do like the races. I once heard that those strong in the FORCE do well in them, some kind of Jedi trait." More beetles, crunch crunch. He takes a Fritzle fry and dips it into a small container of appleslug sauce.

Some say luck is the province of racers, even more than skill. But it's clearly skill on display - even for those trying to just survive this like poor Gaggi Flynn of Sneeve finding himself whirled and twisted all the way to the back of the pack by the jarring and disorienting Pandamonium Spirals.

Fortunes twisting like the holo-courses when they finally all group into one massive lane of flowing colours that swirl through one another and ghostly chevrons point the way to travel, a much needed extra for this madhouse raceway.

"Gentlebeings! We are rounding the final turn and the final legs of the race are in sight. What do the droid-brain controllers have in store for us today?"

Holo-lights flashing in air become like thin mist, hues of orange, blood red, ochre and gold; obscuring vision in places while also showing where gravity streams are becoming suddenly present; making colours push into one another, mixing in places or forming bull-rushing lines in others. "It's the Storms of Yavin Prime! Simulated from deep sensor scans of the famous gas giant! Riders beware, unless you have no fear of being flung from your vehicles which may end up crushed by the punishing storm currents!"

A booming cheer of the crowds, deafening even, in response to the announcement. "It's a tight race everyone! THIS IS IT!" A typhoon death-trap of a course before the straightaway to the finish line.

"Brother Bizz, perhaps you might take mine, instead? I purchased an extra being unsure how long these events last.." Aryn offers the monk her frosty drink instead of lending him money. He might purchase ALE with it. The scandal. "I was not aware that you were a fan of such circuits. Do you find yourself at these races often, Brother Bizz?" Aryn points a meat-stick out toward the track as a gesture that's not necessarily needed to indicate what she's asking about.

Muri is still in the running - or so the screen shows so that when she is greeted by the mandalorian she chuckles, "I am never quite sure with the armor whether I actually have met the person inside." Eriu smiles, one edge of her mouth curling higher when she sees the hand move and she starts to react at first, tensing but not shifting out of the line of intended motion. A brow arches as he sheds another piece of food that had rained down upon her along with a beetle. Her face pales a little as she sees the thing wiggle and move about that gloved palm presented to her.

"Nope!" she makes sure to say that loudly enough to be heard over the cheers around them. "I see Zelo is doing well, I would say we should take bets but I am not a gambler by nature. I hate to change that."

Brother Bizz takes Aryn Cortess's frosty beverage and guzzles it, then sets it in the drink receptacle of his cardboard Jervo's World party platter. He grabs another live nut-beetle and dips it in spicy Boontaspiced Mustard, then CRUNCHES it. "Oh I was just on the hunt for clues and found myself near Jervo's World! I do like the races. I once heard that those strong in the FORCE do well in them, some kind of Jedi trait." More beetles, crunch crunch. He takes a Fritzle fry and dips it into a small container of appleslug sauce.

Not to worry, it's not -actually- the Storms of Yavin Prime. It's merely a real accurate simulation of the Storms of Yavin Prime. David's hands clench around the handlebars as he enters the area, still following that colorful road to the finish line. And then it happens. A turn comes up, and David is flung forward, onto the stabilizer bars. Luckily, one hand manages to hold on to the handlebar, keeping the bike on track, even as its rider is.. less so. He clings to the durasteel anxiously, focused only on getting back in the seat, and, well, riding this thing out, at this point. "Damn you Lando, how did this never come up?" he questions aloud, crawling back to the main body of his swoop, before glancing at the track ahead. Deeming it safe, David swings across, getting back in the saddle and leaving the Storms of Yavin Prime behind. And maybe some bodily fluids, but he'd never tell.

Well, this was it. The last dance, the time to cash in ones chips. The moment of reckoning! You know what that means! Time to redline this rental! Nerys, coming clear of the shifting lanes stood up, yes, stood up in her seat, putting all of her weight into pushing the controls as on and on could be. While this was not at all necessary, hey, it was all about the placebo effect, okay? Go, go, go went the corellian, straight into the storm. So what if she ended up possibly being jettisoned into space? She'd just thumbs up the cheap seats on her way past!

"You would not find me strapped to such a death device, I can promise you that!" Aryn calls back to Brother Bizz after testing her own drink and nodding her head with approval about the order. It had the right amount of liquor; so much so that she had a double take of the beverage that translated to: 'Dayum'. She grows quiet, focused on the straw and liquor slushy drink of green, turning a sapphire gaze to the track and excitement. When she experiences a brief moment of BRAIN FREEZE, she comments. "You should tell me about the other tracks. I daresay if all their drinks are this tasty, I should like to experience another race!" Sip sip.

Zelo's cut-across straight down the bank into the next stretch pays off, pulling him back into the top three, but the race is never over until the finish line. The scream of swoop engines are in his ears, but a simulated storm is ahead. The colors lead in, around, throgh at a dozen different angles, and there is barely even a moment to consider the route. The Nautolan looks to the crowd - of all places, perhaps not the wisest choice to aim those black-pool eyes, but a broad grin grows on his face with white teeth contrasting against the deep cobalt skin. Looking ahead, Zelo charges into the heart of the storm.

When the swoop is thrown upwards, it would likely be the time for some panic, but Zelo doesn't feel it. It's not unlike being caught in a riptide, and the pilot's level head prevails, shifting the repulsors to orient his swoop not only with the finish line, but also pressing down and into the current. Debris seems to come out of nowhere, but as if by instinct, or some luck, the swoop comes down and lands back on the track by a margin of mere millimeters. Hands threatening to cramp from the deathgrip on the throttle, Zelo pushes the rented swoop to its absolute limit. Will it be enough? Who knows? Certainly not the Nautolan as he pushes down the straightaway to the finish line while again turning his smile up to the audience. Tendrils in the wind, gold feather trailing behind, he's not even looking at the path ahead.

Pushing her poor dented and scratched-up bike to the absolute limit, Narsai was trying to catch up as best she can.

The Beskar-clad rider might have been trailing for the race in its entire length until she'd managed that recovery in the debris field, but she was still weaving her way through the pack as the brutal 'storm' hammered the riders.

Her helmet might hide it behind her T-Visor, but the girl was grinning from ear to ear.

Indeed, it may be hard to know one Mandalorian from another but this one is wearing the same black armor he's had for a while with the subtle dark green and coppery accents. And the missing finger from his right gloved hand might also be a give away, if she remembers him. The nut beetle opens it's wings and buzzes off into the air to disappear, likely to land on someone else's head. Or to splat on someone's windshield.

Hahtavi turns his attention back to the racers as things begin to really heat up, <"Looks like it's the final lap. Jate! Kandosii, Zelo! Pour it on, ner vod!"> A fist into the air to cheer on his comrad. Nope, still hasn't spotted Aryn or Bizz yet. Too absorbed in the race as it climbs up towards it's climatic end just ahead!

Muri made her descent from that winding track a bit upright, rump hovering a few inches off her seat to account for a sudden bob of leveling out. She's still in this loose and flexible position when the announcer's voice booms overhead. Riders beware? They weren't kidding! Having /just/ pulled ahead into the lead when her diverged path rejoined others, Netep spies those faint disturbances in the citrine fog ahead.

And immediately melts back into her seat, bowed forward, knuckles white under the gloves' knobby armor as they flex, grip, and regrip her handlebars. She's flattened herself as much as possible into an intimate communion with the 'death device'.

"We had a good run," she praises her zippy chariot, eyeing the cautionary wink of yellow that's begun flashing on her little display, under breast. Between her calves, there's a shift in frequency of that shrieking howl the speederbike emits. She feels it. "S'okay if--" nah, nope, NOPE! she's not gonna push it to its ultimate limit. Not through this. At the very last possible second, Muri eases off the throttle juuuuuuuuuuust enough to buy her fractions of a second more to brace for that downward jerk of gravity - down and to the left, actually. It tugs at her tail, drawing her in toward the convergence of mists, sucking the hot air right out of her engine. Muri rides the gravity well, easing up on her speed to driiiiift.....and then GUN IT! Right on outta there. The remaining stretch is spent zigging and zagging for her life.

The crash is absolutely grand. Gaggi Flynn's swoop is ripped in half while the Sneeve is riding it, one moment steering through the maelstrom and the next he is flailing for balance when the controls are gone. Then hurtled into the Zero-G zones of the course, screaming hysterically as the power supply of his vehicle goes up.

"OH! A surprise upset at the end as Gaggi looses his swoop and won't be able to finish the race! But at least he's managed to keep his life! There go the rescue droids to haul him in for medical to check him out! Those are the breaks, even with skilled pilots here in the Inter-Rim Circuit!!"

The flame like mist wrapping about, obscuring and threatening to turn racers around persists like an assault from a sentient entity. Not entirely untrue - with droid brains controlling the effects; it's ALMOST a potentially disturbing truth. But it has to end, eventually. With Wrrlryyhn and Nubri both coming into tangles of simulated gas and gravity waves that fish-tail them through the course, sparks shooting out of Nubri's controls as she fights the gravity and Wrrl flying inverted at one point in the madness.

Then it's clear. It's open. The finish line is right there! A glowing beacon at the very last! The finish, safety and sanity.

"HERE THEY COME FOLKS!!"

Confounding colors. Beautiful colors, but damnable colors, this FOG. And yet there in the distance there is a faint glow of salvation! Is it?? Is that it!?!?

The Nightfalcon doesn't slow until it's shot well past the finish line and even then, the decceleration is a gradual one. Fifteen seconds tick by and Muri is finally tooling along at an almost idle speed, sagging back on her seat (which is backless), and letting her fingers go slack. What minimal thrust there is gently peels them free to flop lifelessly at her sides. Void of feeling.

A stretch overhead, a fumble with helmet, and Muri's face is finally visible - shimmering with sweat and tears - to grin tiredly at the crowd and throw that same grin over shoulder. No fist pumps, no howls of victory, just an idiotic smile that says she hadn't anticipated pulling it off. Finishing the race at all, that is. Heart still pounding too furiously in her chest to stand still now, Muri keeps on, performing a lazy lap of the course while engines - hers and the bikes - cool down.

Turning her attention back to the race at hand Eriu lets out a very unladylike cheer as Netep passes the finish line first. Her fist meets air over her head in a victory punch before she manages to contain herself, smoothing her silk blouse which has a peppering of different food stuffs and liquids from the local fauna decorating it presently. Bad choice of location to watch from the stands.

"Your friend raced rather well, but its like Muri to pull the last one out of no where. Seems proper." The joy in her voice translates into a grin as it becomes obvious her associate has won the race. "Perhaps we can gather for a drink somewhere. To celebrate both our friends."

Not first. As the finish line's explosions and fireworks and lightshows go up, Zelo's head whips around as the Nautolan starts lowering the speed to a less break-neck-break-swoop pace while he processes that something - his showboating at the end, his choices in route, maybe the angle of entry when the three paths had diverged... But it doesn't matter. He rode his race and Zelo still has that grin on as he falls into line behind the winner - he's heard about such a tradition on some of the more closed circuits and he's not about to buck the victory lap as the reasonably-sped cruise around the now-complete track seems to be in effect.

Zelo Parrai, pilot and sniper, waves to the crowd, and even to the familiar face within the helmet ahead when she looks back. But he waves a little more emphatically at one point in the crowd, and his smile? Definitely a little brighter. This? This was pretty fun. It could definitely be a hobby.

Racing swoops certainly isn't like flying a starfighter. For one, there's normally a layer of plasteel and a layer of shielding between the pilot and space. Here, it's not -exactly- space, but a decent enough fake to where David hardly noticed someone sneaking some crap into his pants until he sat back down. There's no more casual enjoyment in his finishing straight, just a desire for it to be over. Rather than taking another lap to cool off the engine, David takes his third place and floats right off the course into the pits area, where he deactivates the swoop and sits down on the floor next to it. If only he could take solace in the fact that he beat Sebulba. Silly old-timer.

Haha! Still alive! As Nerys came revving out of the storm that was not a storm, Nerys took advantage of the much lower gravitational force to release the controls completely, as she headed right for the final straightaway, waving her hands in the air. Waving like she just didn't care. Except she did care, and she grabbed the controls before she tumbled herself back off of the swoop and out of the race. Onward, to victory!

Was she in first place No. Was she alive? Yes.

Total win!

Not like flying as starfighter -or- riding the sky with a Jetpack either! Narsai had rode well to recover from mistakes that should have put her out of the race and possibly into a grave, but the other racers had ridden flawlessly.

It was victory well earned!

Bringing her poor abused swoop over the line, the Mandalorian casually throws a leg over her bike to lean against the protesting vehicle, lifting her arms to applaud Muri with a grin.

And nearly overbalancing as the bike that was older than she was suddenly loses its repulsors with a heavy thud and slams down onto the tarmac, a piece of metal rolling pitifully to nudge against her boot.

Okay...at least she enjoyed tinkering, because this might take a little work!

Aryn watches Bizz depart and is left to watch the conclusion of the race. She arrived late, so getting to enjoy all of the treats she purchased and have plenty of time to enjoy the event didn't seem to be in the cards today. Aryn made for the exit, disappearing into the parting crowds where someone tried to give her shoe a flat-tire by stepping on her heels!

"And that, gentlebeings finishes out our race with Netep Muri, Zelo Parrai, and David Ironside as our top three for the Circuit Qualifiers! A fantastic showing! Daring maneuvering by all involved! This looks to be the start of an amazing circuit! I for one am excited to see the next race - which can be viewed from the Pazaak and Tabac on race nights in glorious holo-graphic THREE DEE!" Gutu Phluu's arms shoot into the air.

"Please give a proper ovation for our racers! They deserve it!!" The crowd obliging and the sound like being in the middle of artillery fire for the sheer noise. The atmosphere practically vibrates from the din and the excitement in the air. The wookiee dismounting and slump-leaning against her bike and Nubri practically laying face-down on her own, exhausted as the ranat who slips from his own to go to his pit to snatch a bottle to chug.

Sebulba, snarling and irritable slinks away to the furthest pits to verbally chastise his vehicle crew. Obviously the source of his lack in victory this day.

Real confetti, laser lights, and bass thumping music fills the arena... to celebrate and maybe help drive the current spectators to clear the area for cleaning droids to start their rounds.