Log:Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit - Taris
Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit - Taris
OOC Date: September 4 2021
Location: Taris
Participants: Netep Muri, Nerys Greystorm, Valeska Jaivon, Fyrris Vochar, Khalim Zul Gradnk and Reverberate as GM
"LOTHAL is PROUD to present the THIRD of the Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit races!" silvery ebony thread suited and sporting his stylish three 'clip' shaders over his eyes, Gutu Phluu, Gran Major Domo of RACING appears at the announcers dais among a swirl of silvery blue pyrotechnics and red glitter. Suggestively dressed male and female dancers twirl out of the smoke and flashing lights from concealed steps to spiral out and engage confetti tubes. Holoemitters projecting the gran and the dancers into the middle of the sky over the starting line. Ending with the dancers waving their arms in a mesmerizing 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!"
"But that isn't all, gentlebeings! Amidst the crowd roaring images of racers begin appearing in the holo-display; "Presenting last weeks winners, David Ironside! Netep Muri and Nerys Greystorm!" more fireworks go off "TARIS! A city world of adventure, tragedy, perhaps even romance! History states it was destroyed and reborn by ancient methods lost to the annals of time! Today new history will be made!"
Spotlights turn to where the vehicles are already set, "Gentlebeings! Start your engines and we shall see who can win The Deep Ride DIP!!"
Nerys, who had come early, apparently, was sitting already astride her swoop, again a rental. Always a rental. Clearly, she wasn't about to waste a bike she actually owned on this sort of thing, looked over at whichever of the racers was close enough to hear her. "Any idea how many races are actually *on* this circuit?" Nerys received a smol droid finger poke in the back of her head from the small ID10 who was strapped down to her back. Bitty was clearly having the time of her life in these races. She could do this all day. "Asking for a friend."
An Air-2 Swoop is revving up on the starting line, a small, green Twi'Lek on it, her swoop covered in cartoon explosives, cartoon explosions and drawings of hands with missing fingers. MISSING DIGITS - PROUDLY SPONSORING ZUL! is added in large letters underneath "no idea! I am just starting here!" she offers with a grin
Though the vast majority of the course will be far out of view, continuous viewing is possible here near the announcer's dais thanks to galaxy-wide holoprojection (as well as here near the dais) and counless handheld 'pads tuned in to the planetary datanet. Khalim has, somehow, managed to retain an officially licensed IRSC lawn chair and is lounging, label-free open container hand, awaiting the start of the race.
"Sir? May I interes*..."
"I'll take two," comes the Mirialan's reply, cutting off the roaming gizka-leg vendor's appeal. An exchange follows, handful of cred-chits for a... well, it's a cone. A cone full of fried gizka legs. Space chicken, always good.
"You gotta be kiddin' me," is what racer Netep Muri said when presented with her ride for this race, last night. Given the course's complexity and the limitations of her own personal collection, she'd had to extend her palms for a loaner. It hadn't been a hard sell in the bowels of Taris, birthplace of Swoop tomfoolery, especially given her current standing in the circuit and the week of shmoozing she'd spent drinking and lurking among the locals to size up the 'vibe'. Support the local economy
So. When faced with a lewdly grinning AeroChaser - lewd because of the decal encompassing its left 'wing', grinning because who wouldn't be with that lovely Twi lounging at eye level - she really should've guessed. 'VD' - Vorn's Den - stickers are plastered around, as well as some logos of local tattoo parlors, purveyors of /fine/ goods, and an artful crackle of electric blue paint over the other 'wing'. It was a heavily modified work of art by some standards, certainly, and would do its sponsors proud...provided its lady pilot can get the job done. Muri was NOT disappointed during the single test flight she was able to take.
"What'd'ya say, Ziva?" Muri doles out an affectionate pat to the backside of that decal while completing her final inspection. "Gonna hold together for me?" She gives a last wave to the crowd, offers a sharp whistle back to the hoots and hollers, hops on the back of the bike, and starts her up. The 'wings' off either end of nose hum to life and flow control as well as steering vanes snap open, foreward, outward, ready to greedily direct air flow where it's needed most. A soft, white glow illuminated the rear engine.
"RACERS!!!" The announcement starts, lights igniting and bathing those lined up in multi-hued splendor. Sebulba casually smacking Otho as he passes her, gaining a chittering his before the ranat mounts up an the reptoape faced sanyassan issues a kick to one of the dug's forearms. Yu'nasa making her way to where she can saddle up as well.
"START YOUR ENGINES!!!" the thrum of repulsor and anti-grav engines screaming to life - repulsor pads creating a track for the racers with vehicles unablee to maintain altitude firing to life.
"READY" music blares and more foil confetti launchers begin filling the air with glittering particulate.
"GO!"
A plunging course lined to either side with floating lane markers to give the most basic of path indicators - the initial stretch of the race is a screaming passage through narrow alleys between the starscraper towers of Night City. Canyons of glass and duracrete with the open sky a distant thin network of faded white lines above. Below a yawning chasm of darkness that seems to open wider the more one looks to it.
The path itself leading away from main thoroughfares and into the territory of the city world's non-sentient inhabitants. The ledges at each level of the towers the homes of womp rats, giant insectoids and reptoavian hunters that are doggedly protective of their hunting grounds.
Well, at least it wasn't radioactive acid waste this time. And she'd been to Taris before. She'd evaded rakghouls on Taris before. So? This was no time to play it safe right? Right. Nerys, whose swoop had already been ready to run, revved to life, Bitty's binary squeal of delight trailing behind the pair as they took off like a blaster bolt from the sarting line, heading immediately along the least safe route, the swoop dipping and diving through the thoroughfares.
Oh! She had admirers. That was nice. Screeching, feathery, angry admirers. "This is just like that time on Malastare!" Bitty shrieked, 'This was nothing like Malastare, where's my blaster?' The pair flew on, Nerys coming out the other side with a few dark feathers decorating her gloriously flaming red hair.
Fashion.
Zul Gradnk frowns as she leans in closer, taking a safer spot, speeding up and flying ast turns "Good I don't have hair." she just mutters, trying to keep her Lekku as close as possible. At least she had her mechanic make sure the swoop works as well as it can.
OH! They're starting! Fyrris bounces in his seat in a fashion most excited - even though he keeps his drink steady, watching the myriad of holo-displays before his face. "Oh, birds. Gross." "Problem sir?" "Nature..." "What is wrong with nature?" "You can't climate control nature, B-6... and it poops." Fyrris pulls a face before sipping his drink in desperate need to burn away the ideas of nature, and its... secondary aspects.
Gross.
Safety shmafety - that's not what THIS bike (or is it a swoop? Has awfully big junk in the trunk...) was built for! Literally. There's been a reduction in the braking capacity, as Muri learned last night, just two meters shy of needing to leave town. The 32 year old spacer is goes careening off from the starting line like she's 23, hotheaded and full of ego.
Which she isn't, but at these speeds, no one can see your panicked face. RIGHT?
"FRELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL HERE WE GO!!" The Aerochaser wobbles after rebounding from the initial plunge, cutting a corner sharply and angling thrusters to put the craft on its side, skimming a wall under ledge. There's a fleeting explosion of feathers and guano and by the time she's through it, Muri can't recall if they were spikewings or /pieces/ of spikewings cast off from Sebulba's barreling-through.
Amid the explosion of spectator noise as the race is on, Khalim leans in, propping himself forward from his lawn-chair (officially licensed!) perch. The massive holodisplay rising ahead displays video feeds from a handful of cam-drones as the first leg is navigated. In hand, more focused feeds seem to display the individual status of two particular racers: Nerys and Muri. He flips between them repeatedly.
Their interception by a flock of seemingly cheesed off angry avian aggressors draws a distinct frown. "Don't try and make friends, Muri!" The thought is fleeting, as the Lorrdian zooms through possibly aerated spikewing chum. Yum?!
A cam-drone's pan of Nerys and her flock-breakthrough highlights, for just a moment, that mid-race acquisition of some new ornamentation. Somehow it worked for the woman, feather-flecked vermillion hair flows as if it too is providing the woman lift for flight. "Keep it up, Ner."
The image shifts briefly to Zul, managing a safer tack through turns, as she manages to avoid inhaling bird-flavored aerosol. Though of a different species, rooting for a fellow green has always come naturally, and Khalim - observing with increasing intensity - nods in approval as the young Twi'lek trails the race lead.
A fantastic showing of skill and mastery of their machines that brings the racers through the initial turns of the race, and with one Sebulba flailing wildly at the spike wing birds trying to dig their beaks into him, the city itself apparently is put into the show as external lights begin flashing to form the faces of racers, pole positions, and even sweeping 'this way' sort of markers along the course.
"OH my! As the racers take The Dip, it looks like some of the local swoop gangs have taken offense to incursion on their territory by the Inter-Rim Circuit!" Gutu's voice no less enthusiastic and joyous as the crowd goes absolutely berserk and small holo-cam spheres take off after the racers - utilizing micro-tractors to be pulled along and give the holodisplay systems various images from profile, over the shoulder, face and repulsor-well views.
The racers break through into a clearing between the canyons of the city, a point where water reclamation pipes empty down to the depths - sending up a stench that seems to swirl like a whirlwind to the skies. Joining the racing drivers the hoots and screaming invectives of swooper gangs, bursting onto the scene.
Another roar explodes from the crowd as the swoops designed for speed and danger attempt to close, chains and cobbled together blasters being brandished as well as fired at those who drift within range of them.
Nerys made it through the avians, she made it through the final stretch of the throughfares, and then, they were really in it now. "I hope you thought to keep your weathersealing!" They might well need to end up going into those downpours of terrible water to avoid whatever else decided to fly at them. This thing was rated as amphibian, right? Oh! Not birds this time. Sad. Only gangers. "Didn't I say? Just like it!" Nerys, casting around as she caught sight of the incoming gangs armed with chains and blasters, made some quick calculations, the swoop's helmet rolling through its display of the terrain. "Alright, let's see if we can't give them a merry chase." And then she gunned the engine. If they wanted her, they were going to have to catch her. And the pair were off, ignoring completely the idea that up was down and down was up, as she twisted and rolled to make as hard a target as possible for the incoming illegal racers. Bet they hadn't even paid the entrance fee.
Zul Gradnk frowns, leaning forwar herself as she pushes down more,s tarting to be shot at. That... she can use it for holos! Such an enlightening flight! Yes! Explosions and swoop chases on beaches are what they'll need! But she needs to speed up to win, and she just had to swerve for an obstacle. At least there are no birds!
"Wh--" A series of converging dots in the readout of Muri's visor forewarns of /someones/ approaching at highspeed, attempting to intercept from above, below...presumably behind, if they are giving chase. "Uh uh, no. Not today...no carbon scorin' for you, baby." Muri mirrors Nerys' approach to the problem, opting to paint the Aero with smelly water deposits rather than have chains tossed into an intake. The 'look ma, no brakes' swoop embarks on a dive, dive, dive that then marks a sharp turn, followed by another sharp turn to squeeze herself between the downspouts of wastewater and the building's facade.
It's a bit restrictive, a bit claustrophobic, but if some gang stooge is gonna take her out today, they're gonna have to take some risks themselves. An arc of mist marks Muri's progression along that stretch of course between gaps of exposure.
The swoop gangs give hardy chase, but the pace the racers take keeps them out of range of chains and far enough away to avoid the blaster bolts screeching after them.
"Ladies and gentlebeings we are seeing one amazing race today! Nerys Greystorm has climbed into the ranks in a surprise turn while Zul Gradnk has claimed the lead from Sebulba!" It's quite true, the holocams following everyone provide the proof. "But look! The journey to the Undercity is up next!!"
Light becomes what is brought with by and large, some emergency lighting that gutters from weakening power supplies, or the occasional burst of fire from natural gas lines leaking set stark contrasts. "The undercity of Taris, ladies and gentlebeings! The race has outpaced the swoop gangs who don't dare proceed to the depths that the race has taken!"
Support pillars leap out of the darkness, creating a duracrete forest, limbs of unyielding stone and exposed rebar threating the race vehicles and the drivers alike. Clamoring from the shadows between the pillars clawed hands and seemingly eyeless creatures with mottled flesh begin appearing. Jaws opening and drooling milky saliva as they begin to leap - trying to get solid holds so that they can gain their next meal.
It's a short trip into the depths of the undercity, a dangerous one - but flashing holo-display lights show the path. And the promise of escape from these depths.
"Why are *you* screaming?" Bitty was, indeed, screaming, "It's not as though //you// can get infected!" Was there a cure for the plague? Nerys was not about to find out. Jowever, what she would do, is drve for all she was worth. The low light, as the swoop sped into the undercity was no bother, and she could easily pick out the heat signatures from the creatures and they tried to converge on the course, drawn by the sounds and smells of humans...and nearly humans, and not at all humans who were where they were not at all supposed to be. Nerys' swoop continued along that breakneck path, sliding in and out of the displays that provided the way, avoiding a swipe here, escaping a lunge there. And as one would hope, that no race was a race if there was no chance of victory, she followed the the trail of flashing light and, would, hopefully,find her way back into a eyeless monster free world. "It'll buff out!"
Zul Gradnk squeaks, drawing her swoop into a wide turn as she sees the rhakghoul, appearing terrrified as she stares at it, trying to speed away as well as she can. Still, this wasn't what she thought woulde xpect her!
Do you know what's fashionable? A fine hat. A well-tailored jacket. Some spats. Also, those long, black umbrellas that are really, really plain yet look super fancy with the wooden, hooked handle. Yeah, that's fashionable. Also makes for a great interpretive weapon.
Also being fashionably late is fashionable. Though who decides what's fashionably late versus just late? Or worse... tacky late? Someone get them on the horn because Valeska is only just now arriving and she has no idea whether she should be obnoxiously smug or charmingly embarrassed by her lateness.
The Mandalorian is going au naturale tonight, but not in the fun way. For a Mando, that just means street clothes. Her thirty-year-old jacket. Pants. Swagger. Ya know. The usual. She's making her way through the crowd towards the announcer's dias so that she can get a better look at the holovid. "Who's winning?" she asks no one in particular.
By the end of the need for evasive tactics against the swoop gang, Muri finds herself near the back of the pack. She angles gradually back into line, seeking to drift up the skirts of those ahead as they take the final plunge into the deeper, darker real estate that Taris has to offer. Well past Vorn's Den, even!
Things are rumored to exist down here. Things that would put the large, 'demon' rats of Nar Shadda's undercity to shame. And lo and behold....
"They're real?" Or was that just some punk in a costume she caught a glimpse of lurking for that fraction of a second they were visible ahead-by-behind. Seeing this as an opportunity to make up for lost ground, Muri sets course for directly down the middle. It's a game of bulabird, this approach, and one that with either get her killed (along with the perceived idiots daring to step into their path) or get her the hell outta there with gained ground and--
"DROYK!" A hulk of grotesquely deformed /something/ is passed so narrowly that she could've slipped the creature a fiver on her way by, had she been so inclined to lose an arm. Muri guns it, the turbothrusters being put to the test for a THRILLING burst of speed.
Khalim isn't, you know, -GONE-. It was a laced space spliff, not a dropped IV introducing purified liquid black hole. But he's in low Taris orbit. Pupils dilated, everything is bright. Everything. His blinks come more frequently, as do his exhortations to glory as the holodisplay switches from cam-drone to cam-drone. Nerys is on holo and SHE MUST WIN! Muri is on holo and SHE MUST WIN! Zuk is on holo and she's GREEN! And MUST WIN! Those nearest him, including the spliff-sharer laugh, and several pats on the back are shared. They aren't in much better shape.
Suddenly the Mirialan gatches glimpse of some horrible beast of legend, only no legend he's ever heard, seen, or read. As first one Rakghoul and then another make their blurry, terrifying entrances on-vid.
"What the KRIFF!" Horror. But it's short lived as they disappear, cam-drones zipping to keep up with the racers.
By happenstance Valeska happens to have wandered in their direction, and asks her question not but a few steps on the other side of Khalim's newfound, if momentary, best friends. "I think they all are," he answers. And then recognizes the woman. He thinks. "Valera? Va... from the beach? Va-l-es... Valeska!"
The howling depths of the undercity - where the cameras show Sebulba being nearly dragged off of his modified swoop, screaming obscenities and invectives while the rakghoul trying to make a meal of him gnaws at the reinforced swoop suit being worn, risking exposure to the horrific virus - only able to get himself free at the very last moment with some noted difficulty for his piloting. The guide-markers lead the racers to a series of pressure tubes designed to elevate their vehicles from the depths at rapid speed.
Rapid is a light term for it.
"Gentlebeings! We've not had a race on Taris this clear in decades! It doesn't even look like we're going to have a lost racer in the undercity! AMAZING!!" Gutu is jumping up and down at the announcer's dais. Hands clapping, triple eye-stalks waggling. The dancers dance, shaking their rumpuses and doompasus in celebration of the show being put on.
The racers are being turned into slug projectiles being blasted up to the surface at a sustained 1.2Gs worth of pressure from the velocity. A private high-speed hell before being blasted out into the air with time to see an urban deconstruction zone - lit in paths of blue, green, and disconcertingly magma like fluctuating lighting "Viewers we are reaching the end of this race and it looks like the City Planners have spoken that while they don't wish to stir up the local beasts, gangs, or worse - they certainly want it INTERESTING AS NERYS GREYSTORM CLAIMS THE LEAD!!"
The Pathways open up, each one a varied mess of deconstruction droids, controlled implosion detonations... and good old fashioned laser demolitions providing nothing but the promises of good times upcoming.
When one did not have a throat, much less vocal cords, it was not great difficulty to keep screaming. And so, perhaps even before the sound of her swoop as Nerys rocketed out of the undercity, the mics set up all along the course could hear a high, droidish keening coming from the approximate area of her swoop bike. It was not, so far as anyone could tell, coming from the pilot, as Nerys banked, bracing for the shift in pressure as they came out into the light, and, giving the next leg of the course a brief evaluation, decided on the fastest route. Dangerous, yes, chance of organic damage high? Yes! Was she going to do it? **** Yes! The bike verily leapt forward, diving right into that industrial hell of light and magic. If light was lasers, and magic was bombs designed for nothing more than to blow your *** up.
Zul Gradnk blinks, diving forward as she tries to beat Nerys! Laser, phah! Dodge to the right! Explosions! Oooh! that would be a nice shot for an ad, she needs to get the recoding! And the wall, dodged at just the lasat second, grinning as her bike picks speed up, no longer able to keep her headtails as close as before!
A single black brow arches high on Valeska's forehead first at Fyrris' exclamation and then at Khalim's fumbling of her name. "Really? Khalim, we've been over this." Then she leans in curiously and looks into the man's eyes. "You okay? You look like you're flying over Bespin, yeah?"
And then there's the flashy Codru-Ji chugging his liquor. While Valeska doesn't recognize him -- and trust me, she would remember if she met someone who looked like that -- she can reognize the party place when she sees it. "I knew there was a reason I got out of bed today. Hey." She says towards Fyrris. "Got anymore of that?"
All four hands out as he watches the race going, "YEAH! Netep! FREE DRINKS FOR YOU NEXT TIME YOU'RE AT THE BAR!" Fyrris you foole. She may not be able to hear it, but the girls behind the bar will have and he is going to take a profit dent for such a gleeful declaration of his support for the Tabac and Pazaak's record holder for most 'Happy Hour Punch Cards Filled Ever'.
But the codru is a specifically supportive sort.
Also rich, so who cares, right?!
Khalim's rocket-powered gaze fixes on Valeska, as does that toxicologically challenged smile. "Valeska, sorry. Of course I remembered, my mouth and brain were in different rooms." He seems to peer. "Your smile is curling." What she evening smiling? Clearly in his universe she was. Whatever 'curling' meant.
The actual race is just a wash of bright light to the man at this point, and his buddies are in the process of moving off, though not without waves in farewell. Which are returned, of course. Even blasted into Bespin orbit Khalim is still some kind of gentleman.
So this is what it's like, getting sucked up a straw. Not that Muri's wondered this deep thought before now, but the experience seems to match what she just now imagines! Life in the fast lane is Muri's day to day with regards to other aspects of life, so compared to the usual consequences, a quick bladder-pushin addition of 1.2 Gs isn't too bad.
Muri grips the handlebars extra tight upon release from that upward thrust, afraid that she herself might keep ascending whilst the rest of the swoop rockets onward and gives chase to those lekku up ahead. Meanwhile, the lekku on her left wing become obscured by a small explosion of fine debris that gets sucked into its intake. Grumbling a note of dismay, Muri kicks up the altitude a smidge and embarks on a foolhardy weave and twist through the industrial site. Further from ground, further from substrate. Closer, however, to unstable infrastructure and ACK! An explosion of something else entirely from up ahead leaves her flying blind for a tense half second as she plows through the smoke and charred bits of whatever that was. The augmented reality in helmet provides a more or less accurate map of the immediate surroundings ahead, at least, blocking out the biggest hazards in her way. It's the small things that'll get ya, though, which is why Muri ignores the little flashing light protesting the little congestion of vents and keeps her gaze fixed forward. It's okay. It'll be okay. Just a little longer...
"C'mon, Ziva."
"Ladies and gentlebeings this is a supreme display!" Gutu's hands grip both sides of his podium as the holo-displays become a frenetic display in riots of eye-watering neon colors that could set even the most sedate of rock worrts to epileptic twitches upon the muddy sand it had chosen to secret its particular smattering of oozes upon.
"First round winner Netep Muri is hounding underdog success story Netep Greystorm as we speak and new-entrant Zul Gradnk is weaving in between them! It's a grand showing! It's a championship showing! It's the sort of showing that the Inter-Rim Circuit was made for! Ladies and gentlebeings we are slipping into the final straightaway of the Taris Dip! This could be a chance for any of the leaders to suddenly sweep up victory, or slam shut the door of it for their competitors!"
The transit lanes for speeders opens up before the racers. A wide swath of clear area where, at long last, it's only the speed of their vehicles and the skill of the drivers maneuvering around one another.
Unless of course there's some horrible surprise. With vibroblades, pain, laser blasts and explosions.
There isn't.
But just picture it.
Chillingly exciting.
The quad-armed man doesn't answer her. Understandable. He's busy yelling at a screen. Rather than interrupt to ask about the booze again, Valeska shrugs it off with a tug of her jacket and returns her attention to Khalim. "You sure this is a good place to ride the great, white basilisk? Could get pickpocketed or dragged off and your organs sold on the black market, yeah?"
Valeska is only glancing to the holoscreen every once in a while. The trouble with being fashionably late is that you are also fashionably oblivious to whatever is going on prior to and immediately after your arrival.
Was there actually no other threat? Nothing waiting to snap at her heels or try to melt the bike out from beneath her? Surely Taris had more to offer than this....until it didn't, and Nerys, escaping the droidish war zone, gave just that little bit of extra speed as she followed the dancing lights, honing in on the approach to the end of the line. She was going to finish, no matter the standing. "You can open your eye now!"
Breeeeathe....
Muri does this, in and out a few times after the last of the death traps /seem/ to be behind them. "Ol'val an guld domina," she sighs as relieved observation and farewell to the scenery they are blurring by. If 'Ziva' the AeroChaser had her way, Muri would be giving the engines a breather because that one is doing the occasional hiccup, but happy repulsors keep the swoop elevated safely above would-be speedbumps and Muri's feeling comfortable in her routine of 'JUST GO FREAKIN FAST'. Also, there was the issue of braking, which....maybe she should devote some time to figuring a zolution to that now. What had she done last night?
Barreling on along the straight-away, she creeps closer up to her fellow guild member and flashes a thumbs-up while trying to keep tabs on Zul who rides their tail. Subtle maneuvers are taken to edge this way and that way to keep her there while maintaining an overall straight sprint.
And the decceleration problem...she's calculating that. Doing math. Watching the distance tick down on her display.
"OH! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!?" the gran announcer jumping up and down while watching the final stretch of the race unfolding. "Netep Muri has found a gap and has moved to first place, barely slipping in front of Nerys Greystorm with Zul Gradnk not far behind!" The crowd has erupted in all new applause and cheers.
Pyrotechnical showers spray sparks and confetti in colours of multiple spectrums for all of the various sight ranges of the viewership. As the last few hundred meters are crossed, spotlights in similar differing shades focus on each racer as they close on the finish zone.
"Ladies and gentlebeings this is an amazing display of skill! A historic day in Swoop Racing! This is turning into an absolutely ever-shifting myriad of lines in the fabric of racing! LADIES AND GENTLEBEINGS THIS IS IT!"
Somehow, someway Valeska resists the urge to slap her own forehead. Even more so as Khalim just sort of... wanders away. Shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, the woman rolls on her heels a little and sighs. "Oooookay, then. Don't get jumped, I guess." She glances again over at the fancy-pants man arguing with his droid with a tilt of her head. Then she looks up and it seems... the race is over.
"Why /did/ I get out of bed again?"
As Nerys caught the sound of the announcement, and the sight of Netep slipping ahead of her, she raised her closed fist, not close enough to fist-bump her fellow explorer, but it was the thought that counted. It had been a fine day for racing, and as Nerys braked the swoop, kicking up no small amount of dust in her wake, the droidish soundtrack finally ended, two smol droid arms fist bumping as Bitty's eye finally re-illuminated red. 'Still alive!' Nerys shut down the bike, beginning to pick the feathers out of her hair, "You're such a drama droid."
Zul Gradnk grins as she pulls in. She wasn't as rusty as she thought, in fact! Third place! Now, the question is whether she gets a medal, as she breaks her swoop and jumps out of it, Lekku twitching along happily
Three-hundred meters and clos---aw frek, how did that creep up so fast? Muri bumps both knees upward, toggling a lever with the tops of her feet to vent some of the engine heat and eases her grip marginally to reduce thrust.
BBy meter 'twenty-five' the forward thrust is killed all together and she glides along the last bat of a lash left in the race. An upward push of repulsors, coupled with tiny burst of reverse thrust deccelerates rapidly over the dais, etc beyond that finish 'line', some fifteen meters above heads. It's close enough to feel the breeze, far enough to avoid decapitations and/or loss of snacks. The lustfully lounging Twi'lek in her pale blue glory that's painted on the left stabilizer tips and leers at the assembled crowd as Muri doubles back, retraces steps to settle the AeroChaser alongside Nerys and Zul.
"That's some fine sprintin' ladies..." Netep grins from under the lifting helmet and tugs the thing off her many braids. They remain more or less plastered to her head from all the sweat. A waft of Lorrdian adrenaline-rush seeps out from around the snug collar of her suit. "Drinks're on me, tonight, back at my place, hey?" She twists in the seat then, looking 'round to the others who come careening in after. "Invitation's open to all! Starlight Bay, top floor!"
More lights, more explosions, MORE ExCiTeMeNt!!! "Gentlebeings! Gutu Phluu here for Swoop Circuit Racing! Thank you for your attendance - don't forget to attend the Shim Productions Afterparty here on Taris and on Nar Shaddaa at the Pazaak and Tabac! Congratulations to NETEP MURI, NERYS GREYSTORM AND ZUL GRADNK!!!"
Holodisplays of the winners sweeping across the sky amid the fireworks smoke and lights. "It is a great day for racing! We'll be more than excited for the next! Where!? When! Keep posted and find out!"
The dancers move out to swirl through the parked riders, Sebulba slumping in his seat as medical teams rush up to gather up the dug, to drag him off to be treated before he becomes a bloodthirsting monster bent on the propagation of its species by violence while consuming all not able to evade a biting death.
"For The Inter-Rim Swoop Circuit! This has been Gutu Phluu!!!"
