Log:Jervo's World Cup - Ice Mountain
The First of the Jervo's World Cup Swoop Races
OOC Date: August 6, 2022
Location: Jervo's World - Ice Mountain Arena
Participants: Kye Keraz, Ejnar Celchu, Cora Das, Aconaa, Tamsin Cas, Fyrris Vochar, Galen Dawnstar, Kasia Ashkuri, Hahtavi Kora, Aryn Cortess, Vega And Reverberate as GM
Gutu Phlu's visage stands unwavering in the partially and partially holographic field over the 'mountain' that is the middle of the great Ice Planet raceway. Arms thrust to the sky and his shaders clipped to the ends of his eyestalks,
"GENTLEBEINGS! WELCOME TO JERVO'S WORLD ICE PLANET ARENA FOR THE SECOND RACE OF THE JERVO'S WORLD CUP!!" lights and streamers erupt all around, the real and holographic blending among one another. The wind blown plateau at the top of the race mountain displayed on holographic displays where the racers have been gathered to prepare their vehicles.
The stands are built into the basalt and granite brought and formed like a mighty peak within the arena as they are surrounding on the edges itself - private boxes float on repulsors defended from the simulated winds and cold, luxury seating constructed in bunkers at race-side, for the racers it is being placed right in the middle of the crowds.
"WILL EJNAR CELCHU KEEP HIS FIRST PLACE POSITION? WILL ZAIN UMPAARH OF SULLUST RECLAIM THEIR PLACE AS THE BEST SWOOPER ON JERVO'S WORLD!? WE'LL SEE TODAY WHEN OUR COMPETITIORS PUT THEMSELVES AGAINST THE CHALLENGE OF CHILLBONES MOUNTAIN!"
Ejnar Celchu walked slowly along the side of his X-17A's sleek black engines, doing one last check on the rebuilt craft. It was an Air Speeder meant for a course like this. The Alderaanian Lord's Swoopsuit covered him head to toe, Black and Purple, across the back in streaking letters of yellow like that which you'd see in a B-Movie Horror Holo-Vid spelled out 'Night Screecher'. The Text was also on his speeder. His head was covered by the suits helmet, obstructing view of his face. As he neared the cockpit he opened it and entered, starting up the machine. He took a deep breath and focused.
Aconaa moves her swoop up to the starting line and looks out at the track ahead. An ice track was certainly a new one and with that chill in the air it certainly felt authentic enough. "Well let's see what this one has in store then," she muses to herself before hopping onto her swoop and pulling her helmet on securely. Custom made to fit around the montrals, of course, though the rest of the suit was stock. While she waits for the start of the race she looks around at the other racers, noting a few familiar faces absent. Maybe some of them couldn't stand the cold?
Tamsin, who had secured for herself a good vantage point for the race, tucked her spare bottle of water down into the space between the arm of the seat and her good self, her sign, not yet illuminated, hiding the view of her legs, as she adjusted the coat she had brought, in honour of the occasion of the race. Hand freed from the bottle, she offered over a few chits to one of the passing...entrepreneurs who were taking bets on the outcome of the race. This was the done thing, yes?
Vega's little white haired self is where she usually is on race days across the universe. She'd down with the other mechanics and checking over swoops that she's been hired to keep in check. She's dressed in a black high collared shirt and black latex leggings that are covered up to the knees by flat soled boots. She's a quick thing as she moves from one swoop to the next. Hey, it pays for repairs for those other things she does!
Aryn is enroute to a private suite for a viewing of the race. She is wearing an Alderaanian tunic with a fashionable cape and tall boots. Gloves have been pulled on over her hands to prevent her from touching things that might be harmful, a security measure given the number of people who use such toxins as weapons!
Concessions are first, and Aryn puts in an order for staff to prepare more than a few meals for her guests as they gather to go into the suite together.
A floating box. It's wondrous!
"This is wondrous."
See? Fyrris reclines as the autopilot system keeps him level to the action, C4 keeps his drink fresh, and the outside of the repulsor box displays advertisements for the Pazaak and Tabac - which is a major sponsor. Lower hands folded in his lap, upper hands holding his cocktail glass and a little nibbly from a tray, "C4?"
"Yes, sir?" "Bets are in?" "Of course sir." "Thank you." "I exist for your leisure, sir." the droid shrugs, adding more fizzing booze to the half-empty glass in the codru's hand.
Pyrotechnics begin erupting along the edges of the racers plateau in sparkling sheets of silver, ruby then powder blue whilst Gutu's voice is projected around the arena, "GENTLES! WE SHALL SEE WHO OF OUR COMPETITORS HAS WHAT IT TAKES TO CLAIM ROUND TWO OF THE CUP! RACERS, TO. YOUR. MACHINES!"
Speakers concealed about the arena begin blaring a heavily drum beat and brass focused march. Celebratory and rivaling the gran's own copious high energy. Repulsor slides begin moving swoops not already positioned to their places according to what prior race standings dictate for them, Celchu's right out front. The danger zone.
The equine Syooko snorting and spitting on the ground as she mounts up, glaring at Aconaa while the Snivvian and Sullustan share choice words that holonet broadcasts censor. The fireworks change to geysers of red, firing in pulses.
"RACERS! READY!"
Lights around the arena go dark, leaving the simulated mountain top illuminated only by holo-sparks and the moons of Panto above, sound stills, rendering only the roar of swoops and wind to be heard.
The engines of the X-17A roar to life, a sound reminiscent of old jet propulsion craft of many planet's antiquity, a low rumbling felt in ones chest. From the sidelines where his Astromech waits over runs a pretty blond woman in coveralls. She leans over in the cockpit, handing him a data chit. "Brother used to say this worked from him all the time... for luck."
Ejnar stares at the data-chit a moment before taking it. He nods to the woman who then leans over and kisses his cheek before hopping down and running back over towards the astromech. The Canopy closes, his craft whining as it ramps up thrust in the repulsors, air breaks keeping it from jutting forwards violently.
Ejnar spares one last look at the data chit in his hand before placing it into the appropriate slot on his console.
Aconaa fires up her swoop, the engine letting out a loud roar followed by a steady, heavy humming noise. As the systems come online she gives the gauges on her swoop a quick look over to ensure there's no sudden issues before the start of the race. After tapping her helmet to check the driver interface was active and working properly she grips the handlebars of her swoop tightly and revs up the engine. A glance is given toward the other drivers before leaning forward, anticipating the call to start.
Vega's checking up on her last swoop when things are a go! The white haired woman gives a bit of a sigh before she settles her things back into her pack. She then uses the small wall that keeps those out of the mechanics area and launches herself up onto the walkway. She gives a smile to the person she lands in front of, but for the moment she lets them pass before she leans into a spot to watch the race.
With the racers moving up to the line, Tamsin leaned forward, a slight thinning of her lips as much of a frown as the Firrerreo ever allowed herself. Even the narrowing of her eyes, as she examined the racers was a mild thing, in keeping with the woman's general demeanour. But, whatever it was she was looking for did not appear to be in evidence, and she reached down, sliding the sign to the side to make room to adjust her feet. A hand lifted, signaling for one of the staff who was moving through selling possibly dubious, but always delicious meat on sticks.
When the lights drop and audio-pickups go with them, Fyrris's lower hands grip the rests on his chair in expectation of a horrific tumble to his demise. He never thought it would happen like this! He was supposed to die on a bed of money getting a full body massage!
"It was going to be deep tissue!" "What?" the butler droid's dome like head slowly turns to regard the codru, scan his drink, and casually refill the bit that had spilled out. "What are you saying sir?"
OH. "Oh!" they're not going to die. "I was excited for the start of the race is all..." the pair giving organic and droid sidelong glances to one another. "Of course sir... excitement." "You're damn right." "Yes sir."
Both heads turn away from one another, as if to give the other the chance to believe the lie a little more.
Races! Kasia has attended a few of these, and here she is again, holding box of snacks in both hands as she moves along the edge of the seating searching for someone. Someone she doesn't appear to be finding among the many colorful faces in the crowd. This whole thing is making it hard to pay any attention to the actual races, and is also getting in the way of her snacking, which is also a very important element when attending events like these. Not finding who she's looking for, she keeps moving along, searching, failing.
Hahtavi Kora has also come to this swoop race - both to watch it, and to meet with a few people he'd hoped to speak with today. Alas, he's seated in the stands, no bounty hunting this trip out. The Mandalorian is kitted out in his usual armor and waits to see if any messages come through his helmet coms. None so far. All the same, those with whom he came to speak with know where abouts to find him if they are coming.
Meanwhile, the race itself is never boring and the Kora stays alert should he note any familiar faces in the stands.
Aryn got settled into her seat and was provided a fresh glass of wine and a snack. Her attention goes to the screen where the races are conveyed, and the room full of guests grow quiet. There's not much to say beyond the organization of their seating, finalizing orders, and the munching of snacks! "I wonder who is favored to win?"
"Lord Celchu, of course, your Grace." Another answers.
"I wonder if Winter is here to witness it, again?"
"RACERS!" The fireworks burn gold now and their sparks rain down over the racers, holographs to color them without burning, creating bouncing pebbles of light that glitter and dim on the plateau. The Snivvian, Pashil, hunkers own in their seat and a wind-screen mounted on rails to their swoop is slid over to try and keep the wind out of their face. "GET SET!"
Syooko Xic, the Yarkora, spits again, large nostrils flaring and her grip being re-affirmed on her controls. Daggers are glared for Aconaa and Celchu. A look passing between she and Zaid who has pulled a leather cap over his head and his goggles down. A scarf is pulled over jowls, concealing much of the Sullustan's features before the pyrotechnics go viridian and Gutu declares,
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" the path that is already bending into a spiral descent down the very real, if artifically constructed, mountain begins lighting up. Blast shields pop up behind the racers, to give them a little initial boost down the start of this madhouse.
Per his usual tactics, Ejnar is not starting off fancy in this race. He lets the air break go just as the signal is given. The X-17A that had been dipping down as his repulors screamed kicking up ice and snow behind him finally took off like a bat out of hell. Though it wasn't any maneuvering or jockeying, just the roaring engines and the nature of the speed of the craft. The data-chit Ejnar had placed in his console started to blast heavy music in his cockpit, which startled the Alderaanian Lord. "The Hell?"
A familiar voice reached out to Aryn in her Box Seat Suit, Someone who'd just arrived with the rest of her guests. "Of course I did... Foolish son of mine. Too much of his father in him."
Aconaa squints at Syooko and ponders briefly on some colorful insult to hurl in the Yarkora's direction for a moment but is left with little time to ponder such things as the call is given to go. Aconaa lets go of the break and hits the gas on her swoop. Her swoop gets off to a sluggish start and the Togruta tries to compensate by making an aggressive move to cut off Syooko at a turn. Unfortunately she hits the snow and skids hard against it, struggling to maintain control of the vehicle for a moment let alone gain any ground on the other racers. Steadying her swoop, Aconaa lets out a swear and starts looking for another opening to try to pull ahead.
Somewhere in the bleachers sits the curious Cora Das. She is not curious simply because she is curious, either, though those wide blue eyes are as hungry for knowledge as ever. She is the -other- sort of curious because she is also a little strange. Those who have met the woman may, after all, have entirely different perceptions of her depending on which of her they met. If this bit of unhelpful metapose is confusing, dear reader, rest assured that I understand. I am writing her, after all.
She has a rather large map of Jervo's World open in front of her. One of those multi-folded brochure things that displays the different swoop race maps depending on how you open and fold it it. She's peering back and forth between the map and the race standings, her expression a mixture of a frown and a scowl. Unseen, numbers whirl and crunch within her artificial brain, hundreds of years of artificial intelligence culminating in this one, singular moment. This one, singular thought.
"Well this map certainly isn't to scale, is it? How disappointing. You'd think with how much they charge for concessions that there'd be a bit more attention to detail," Cora laments. And then leans over to take a rather long sip of her comically-huge jug (it's way too big for us to call it a cup) of sodie-pop.
Aconaa squints at Syooko and ponders briefly on some colorful insult to hurl in the Yarkora's direction for a moment but is left with little time to ponder such things as the call is given to go. Aconaa lets go of the break and hits the gas on her swoop. Her swoop gets off to a sluggish start and the Togruta tries to compensate by making an aggressive move to cut off Syooko at a turn. Unfortunately she hits the snow and skids hard against it, struggling to maintain control of the vehicle for a moment let alone gain any ground on the other racers. Steadying her swoop, Aconaa lets out a swear and starts looking for another opening to try to pull ahead.
When the go is given attention goes to the forward view of his mobile private box, the repulsor craft far enough away to let its movement to survey the track not be as breakneck as the racers own movements. And while he may lag behind the spiral going down from the plateau there are stretches where he can view without too much trouble,
"C4?" "Yes sir?"
Droid and Codru both watch the view and monitor the smaller displays from feeds showing 'dash cam' points of view and even from engine wells where droid cams have settled in.
"Do you think we should set up another crash probability bet at the club?" "It did pay off handsomely when that one racer died last year." "True, inform the Twins, they'll know what to do." "How opportunistic." "Yep."
The droid steps back to make a holocomm call shaking its domed head slightly.
As the race began in earnest, Tamsin turned away, if only for the few moments required to purchase a double serving of meat sticks. It was a small field of competitors today, that was true enough, but these were a fine enough selection and worth watching. Settling back into her seat, Tamsin ate with a careful diligence, using a decorum that was not typical of the sort one used with street fare. A hand freed itself to adjust the signage at her feet, before the LEDs illuminated themselves, reading simply, in rotating rainbow hues, 'Go Aconaa!'
Ah, but wait. There's someone he notices seated just a bit ahead of him who's a little squirmy, unfolding a map and muttering to herself. The Mandalorian eyes Cora who seems to be seated alone. Before he might get up or say anything to call to her, a vendor comes down the aisle selling drinks. The Kora puts up a gloved hand to get the seller's attention and purchases a bottle a spiced Naboo tea. A few credits are handed over.
Once the vendor hs departed, Hahtavi peels the wrapper off of the bottle and wads it up. With an unseen curl of one corner of his mouth, he carefully aims and tosses the crumpled label to see if he can plink it off the top of Cora's head.
Then he opens his bottle of tea.
The wandering among the crowd continues for Kasia for a while, but the search is starting to seem more and more futile. What makes her stop is nearly dropping all of the snacks when a child dashes in front of her and she nearly stumbles. No more searching, she picks the nearest seat and drops into it, snacks safely in lap as she digs a device from her bag to try and reach out that way instead.
Cora shifts back and forth in her seat again. She feels as if she may have folded the map incorrectly, so she sets about the (quite lengthy) process of unfolding the entire thing in front of her face until she's met with a chorus of groans from over her right shoulder. "Palpatine's Jewels, enough with the map, lady!" comes a rather crude remark and annoyed voice. A family of Devaronians glower down at her, the mother of the two little children and wife to the rather chubby male giving a scolding wag of her finger. Cora gives a grimace and folds her map up entirely to be tucked away into the bag at her side.
"This is why nobody can find anywhere without a datapad, you know. No respect for the lost art of cartography," she says. And then she feels a wrapper hit the top of her head. She slaps the armrests of her seat and bounces to her feet, prompting the family behind her (and several other spectators behind her) to groan and shift to see the holoscreens she now stands in front of.
"ALRIGHT, I PUT AWAY THE MAP!" she declares, visibly flustered.
Vega leans on the wall and watches the racers as she sips her water from her canteen. She wasn't a drinker really. She was also needing to keep clear for repairs. She sees one of the mechanics looking over a screen and she whistles down to them, "You need a hand?" she asks them.
When the jet-engined bike mounted by Celchu takes off, the Sullustan swooper is hot on their heels, Snivvian and Yorkora drafting off them to vie for position side by side in attempts to form a rolling roadblock to try and keep Aconaa at the back of the pack.
"GENTLEBEINGS, LOOK AT THAT! IT'S A VICIOUS FIGHT FOR FIRST AND A EVEN MORE BRUTAL DISPLAY TO TRY AND KEEP LAST RACES SECOND RUNNER UP FROM WORKING HER WAY UP THE RANKS!" Sparks fly from chassis clashing and the entire mountain seems to rumble when the raceway dips under stone arches and into short tunnels that figure of eight further and further down.
A slalom of evergreens quite literally springing up - holographic trees over dragon's teeth posts coming up potentially ruin days. Why if this was an underground tunnel with amphibian drivers one might think this a mockery of one of the, "MOST AMAZING SETUPS NOT SEEN SINCE THE FROGDOG HOP IN THE RODIAN SWAMPS TWENTY YEARS AGO!" The race where Ra'hash and Zhids defeated their rivals from Rododentia Four. A path that some avid simulation players swear made them snap controllers in frustration.
Will this be the same?
Will Kasia's snacks remain safe?
Will Hahtavi continue hurling things at people?
Will Aryn remain a princess?
Will Fyrris undermine society rules for his own gain?
The mechanic Vega questions looking up to her and shrugging before offering a helpful comment of "Ee chawumma."
Ejnar's odd swoop shifted through the ice and snow the the course, turning and weaving. As Zaid came up to over take him, there wasn't much more of a choice to be made. He had to press harder. He pushed the engine on the swoop past it's breaking point, rearranging some wires and connectors to bypass a few safety systems. All this while that music the woman gave him blasted through the console speakers. He was starting to find it catchy but he wasn't sure it was actually helping him as claimed.
Aconaa shifts from side to side behind Syooko and Pashil, trying to find an opening to pull ahead of them and not having much luck. Though soon she finds her attention elsewhere as those holographic trees come up. She could still recall her near miss with the 'bantha' on the desert track previously. Fake or not, the threat they posed was very real, and Aconaa shifts to focus more on avoiding the upcoming obstacles. Her swoop drifts pretty close to those trees though, moving only as much as she needed to avoid collision to try to catch up to the other racers.
"I'm glad the boxes have atmosphere controls" Fyrris notes, reaching to turn up a dial, "Could you imagine? I bet it still gets chilly in the general stands. Look, there are people with jackets." "Is that so much as to need gloating, sir?" the Butler's dome lights up in several judgmental points all focused on the codru-ji who looks back after a select few heartbeats. Aggressive eye contact made. Held. One brow lifting in concert with his glass that is tipped back and the contents drained in several exaggeratedly long gulps while not a lash is batted or lid blinked.
They remain locked like that for the time it takes for the glass to come back down and C4 refills it with equal slowness.
"Don't -you- try to bring empathy and conscious into this. Not here. Elsewhere, yes. But not here. That is sacrosanct." "Of course sir, you can be a pitiless garbage fire here and I shall resume making sounds as if clearing my throat when passing people with alms catchers and sob stories." "There's a time and place for things, C4." "Of course, sir."
Poor annoyed Cora. When she stood up and turned around to look spitting mad at the people arrayed behind her, a certain Mandalorian simply raises his bottle of tea as if toasting her. Then the Kora fishes something out of a belt pouch - an extendable camping straw. That he drops into his open bottle of tea. The bottom of his helmet seal is pried open and the straw slipped up inside of his helmet easy as you please so Hahtavi can drink while he watches the race.
Since the people seated around her already look pretty annoyed with her, and would no doubt be even MORE overjoyed if a Mandalorian came to join them, the Kora instead makes a gesture to invite Cora to come join him - if she likes.
Galen's late to the part but he does eventually arrive making his way into the stands carefully moving around folks here and there before he plops down in one of the seats this time having brought his own bottle of water this time taking a sip of the life giving liquid before looking at the racers and saying to nobody in particular, "Who's winning and who's expected to win?"
The small chorus of boos and jeers from the crowd behind Cora Das is met with a flustered, dismissive wave of her hand. She attempts to sit back down, but when she lowers herself down onto the seat, she spots the crumpled up bit of wrapper that bonked her in the head and spies what she can only assume is a shavit-eating grin belonging to the Mandalorian who had tossed it at her. As well as a beckoning invitation to come sit by him.
How charming.
She stoops over to pick up the wrapper, adjusts her glasses, and then marches up the stairs towards where he's sitting. She attempts to hurl the wrapper at him, but ends up hitting one of the little Devaronian children on the side of her head. The mother gasps, the father blusters, the little girl starts to cry and the brother starts laughing. And Cora Das makes for a swift exit out of the stadium. Mortification levels: Moderate.
"ZAID UMPAARH IS MAINTAINING HIS LEAD! THE PRIDE OF SULLUST! THE CHAMPION OF THE LAVA TUBE SIX-SIXTY! HE'S TRYING TO MAKE HIS COMEBACK! BUT LOOK! LOOK THERE!"
The dizzying weave of swoops between the tree obstacles is added to by holo-protector droids attaching to the rear repulsor wells and streams of colored light begin trailing out in the wake of the high speed vehicles. Yorkora and snivvian can't keep up their blocks and avoid smashing into cleverly designed poles and the shift of those trees in the winding switchbacks of the raceway allow for,
"LOOK AT THAT COMEBACK GENTLES! I TELL YOU, THE SWOOP CIRCUITS -LOVE- A COMEBACK! AND IT LOOKS LIKE TODAYS' IS ACONAA'S!" the crowd goes wild and the togruta's name is broadcast in holograms above with her image in bust form rotating with her place marker going from fifth to third, right behind Ejnar and the sullustan's.
"BY MY MOTHER'S TEETH -THIS- IS WHY WE'RE HERE!"
The evergreen forest disappears behind the swoops and their passage rushes over an ice-bridge that runs between a jagged ravine running up the mountainside. Where the scream of swoop engines echo and the mountain answers back, with an avalanche threatening destruction.
Here came Doctor Clare's Leg and Ejnar was still trying to go neck and neck with Zaid. He knew something needed to be done about the lead, even if it meant wiping out a losing. He aims towards the steepest part of the curve, not minding the snow. The engines exhaust leaves a trail behind him as he climbs and turns at the same time, the music blasting from his console picking up at the same time. "Okay... so maybe it helps..."
The bottom of the chaises scraps against the snow but doesn't give out as Ejnar rides close. "Hold together..."
Cutting it close to the holo-trees and taking a few risks seemed to pay off as Aconaa pulled ahead of the two swoops she was contending with as they finally cleared that patch of trees. When they were seemingly in the clear she'd try to maneuver her swoop to keep ahead of those two, but soon it wasn't them she was worrying about keeping ahead of. She could hear that avalanche coming before she could see it and chances a look behind her that she probably shouldn't have. "Karking hell!" she growls. That avalanche was almost -right- on her swoop's tail and she had to gun the engines hard to keep ahead of it while swerving out of the way of stray bits of snow and ice that threatened to overtake her.
"I have to confess," Tamsin offered to Galen's posed question, as he settled into a seat not far from her, "I am having a difficult time keeping track. They seem to be shuffling positions too quickly to get a determination of who is actually in the lead." Tamsin, not needing to offer her spare bottle of water, instead leaned over to offer one of the meat sticks in the tray which they had been purchased, "Though I suppose the announcer is the best gauge of who is worth watching. Or at least whom they want the spectators to focus on."
The Mando got a wadded up drink label thrown at him! But Cora's toss came no where near to hitting him or even landing in his lap. <"Tsk. Hit me up for lessons later!"> Ah, she's leaving. Alas. That could have been all kinds of amusement if she'd dared to sit with him and put up with his playful harassment. Ah well. Busy girl.
So, Hahtavi just sits back, sips his tea and watches the racing. Maybe something exciting will happen like a wreck. Or ... an avalanche works!
Suddenly up on his feet, Hahtavi cheers Aconaa on even if doesn't know that swoop racer for her daring race against the coming wall of snow and ice, <"GO! GO! OYA!">
"And what are your thoughts on this?" "The avalanche?" sip. Fyrris pulls out opera glasses of all things, holding them to get a better look in grandiose show of opulent extravagance when he could have just used the box systems. Face drawing out in a particularly 'Hmmmmmmmmm' expression that causes the butler droid to tilt its head back as if in search of serenity. Serenity right at this very moment
"Yes, sir." "Oh I expect they'll outrun it. It's been one of those races." "A lack of dismemberment or dismay?" "More alliteration next time, C4." "Sir is seriously seeking setting self so soon a malevolent malcontent manifesting malicious machinations... sir?" "Precisely." the codru turns back to the droid, looking particularly proud of himself and lifts his glass for a refill. "You should grow a moustache, sir." "Moustache?" "To twirl, sir." "Noted... also - we need to extend some sort of endorsement on that 'gruta. She's all over the place. People love a wild card." "I shall begin drafting right away, sir."
Galen nods a bit as he takes another sip of his water listening to Tamsin's answer, "I see. Well that just makes it a good race then it's never any exciting when one of the racers gets too far ahead. Makes it so the second and third places are the exciting ones to watch."
Vega sees that the race is over and she gives a round of applause for the winner and those that placed. The white haired woman gives a look down to the race track as some start to dwindle in and she gives a look down to her datapad before she hops back down where the other mechanics are gathering, "Should be a fun cleanup." the Echani states with a grin.
The face of the raceway changes with a violence that it could be described as gut wrenching. Twisting turns suddenly smooth slanting flatways, the course below turning into what looks like a desert on a tilted plain, with white sparkling dunes of actual snow... not holographic snow, that had been poured down the mountain from hidden machines.
Seating bunkers create chalets that allow for jumps from swoopers and raceway marking droids are re-arranging themselves to give a rough direction to go without it becoming a suicide run down the side of the mountain.
"GENTLES THIS KEEPS GETTING INTERESTING! PLACES BEING SWAPPED! ACONAA IS FORCED BACK BY THAT WAVE THAT NEARLY TOOK ZAID WITH HER!" The sullustan is hanging on to upper brackets for dear life - narrowly cutting off Syooko and shaving a part off of his own swoop while denting a forward repulsor nacelle on hers. "WE'RE GETTING CLOSE GENTLES! WILL ACONAA RECLAIM HER PLACE?! WILL CELCHU CLAIM VICTORY A SECOND TIME IN A ROW!?!"
The snow shifts like loose silt in shallow water as the racers move, creating the misfortunate chances to take the expressway to the bottom of the mountain.
As they move into the drifts, much like sand dunes but made of snow, Ejnar gets a bit more of a grip on his craft. The thrashing music guiding him. Perhaps his blond Companion was correct, the music did help. He skips from one drift to the next, using the natural flow of the snows to help him along and get ahead of the rests. It was like bouncing from here and there. And he certainly wasn't driving slow in the ultra fast lane so the racers behind him went insane.
After narrowly avoiding getting buried, Aconaa was now struggling with the actual snow going up that mountain, her swoop sliding around a bit over the surface and kicking up a white spray in her wake. For a moment, it looks like she might even start to slip down the mountain... until her swoop slams into Zaid's, sending the Sullustan's swoop careening away down the mountain while Aconaa's manages to use Zaid's swoop for leverage to push back up the mountain and regain some control as she continues her ascent. "Oops," Aconaa utters in a not-so-apologetic tone, snickering under her breath as she leaves the other swoop behind.
Vega lands on her feet down on the track, but she awaits for things to finish. She wasn't sure who was going to drag their swoop in, but she knew one of the people she was helping was limping back. It was just another day in Swoop racing for her. There's a bit of a look down to her datapad as she brings up the repair list that she had before and the price of things, "Oof. They're better off buying a new swoop at this point." the woman states.
He's got a cold beverage for this! Kye is late, super late, but he's oon the stands to watch these races. Settling down into a chair, he nods to a Sullustan who mentions something about the perilous curves of the swoop race before taking a pull from the straw, happy to watch at least some leg of this race.
Fyrris is watching the madness with all the attention of a sentient with money riding on this race.
Because money is riding on this race, "How much did we put on her?" a datapad is slid before the codru's face and he grimaces, "How much did we put against her?" another datapad and a slight head bob of acceptance before he sips his drink, "And the spread?" another datapad, held by one of the butler droid's retractable serving arms, faceless dome somehow conveying mild annoyance.
"My drink is low." "Right. Away. Sir." a second retractable arm is out, pouring the preferred mix for the gambler while he checks numbers and the race in uneven turns.
Both cringe at the sight of Zaid's impact with Aconaa, and her continued path along the raceway.
Alas. The racer whom she had been repping, crashed. Or did she? No! Hooray! Tamsin, tossing the spent sticks of her snack into a waiting passing receptacle, leaned forward in her seat as she watched the fall of one of the competitors in any regard. Clearly it was going to end up being a race to the finish in the best way. "I'm not sure if we'll be celebrating the crash or the eventual winner."
"OH. MY. LORDT!" Gutu's cry is jubilant in the face of the chaos, "THERE GOES ZAID! TAKEN DOWN LIKE A THIMIAR TO THE TOGRUTA!!" Displaying a momentary knowledge of planetary ecosystems in his howling and shouting, the gran is bouncing about, "THERE GO HIS HOPES OF TAKING RACE TWO FROM CELCHU! THAT ACONAA HAS. SOME. BITE."
Powder churned around the drivers becomes a mist of ice crystals and one final, large, banking turn brings the four still in this to face a massive downhill slope covered in bumps and ramps to make it either a jumble of high speed weaving or something like a speed-o-cross as one might see on desert planets.
Zaid's passage is majestic. Bashed by Aconaa, the nose of his swoop dips, hits snow and flips end over end, rolling along with the sullustan's harness keeping him in the saddle and centered in the pinwheel of dismay that has become his new trajectory. Parts flying off and then landing on its side to slide, the goggles are the only thing keeping his eyes safe and clenched teeth from choking. But his poor jowl flaps, just... crammed with snow.
"HERE WE GO GENTLES! THE FINAL STRETCH!"
As the slope turned into mostly down hill drifting, it was clear what Ejnar had to do. He pulled back on the engines and let gravity take over. A few flaps had been installed in a few obvious places to create some drag because unless you were a Jedi or some Force Wizard, there was no way you ere navigating down this mountain at some of the speeds they were going. Easy, slow, right towards the finish. Would it be enough? He wasn't sure but he hoped.
Aconaa had quite the momentum going after bouncing back - quite literally - off of Zaid. She leans hard into the turn, elbow practically against the snow before leveling out at the top of that downward slope. She guns it hard toward one of those ramps, jumping off it to soar clear over several smaller bumps. Leaning forward, she puts her weight into it as her swoop flies down the slope as fast as she can push it and trying to take advantage of the ramps and bumps to move over the other racers instead of around.
Applauding, Kye rises to his feet at the final stretch, and he's shouting the names without a specific preference. This is amazing! And he's finishing his drink, which he stares at wistfully before grinning. "I wish I could race. But I'd eat the dust - or ice - of these people! Incredible!"
Ejnar passes the finish line and at the same time lets out a breath of air. He glances towards the mirrors on his craft and notices Aconaa not far behind. He knows in that moment in the next race he would have to be more brutal and efficient. He pilots his way towards the droid and the woman who gave him the data chit of music. His repulso lifts wind down and he climbs off the modified swoop.
Winter Celchu watches on with scrutinizing yet cold blue eyes from Princess Aryn's Box Suite.
Aconaa turns her swoop sideways as she crosses the finish line, the bike seemingly screeching to a stop at the end. Standing from her swoop, Aconaa pulls off her helmet and takes in a deep breath. She had some -very- close calls today but she had at least managed a second place finish, she'd be content with that. Especially given who didn't finish at all. "Kriff. I need a drink," she mumbles to herself, letting out a chuckle and shaking her head.
"You see that?" Kye calls out, "That's racing! Congratulations!" Since he sees the throng approaching the champions, he's not about to join them and get forcefully jostled. Instead, he's clapping hard, grinning, until the applause subsides and he's lowering his hands, shoving them in a pocket.
"HOOOOOO SPACE! They just made us -so much- money." the gambler is dancing in his seat and the droid is looking skyward again. When confetti starts blasting Fyrris can't even begin to be upset that they put cannons in the private box. It was expected, deep down. He knew it would happen.
He can't escape confetti.
No matter how he seeks to elude it, to travel to the far reaches of the galaxy. To wend his way parsecs upon parsecs between the stars and within the endless dark that would envelope all who are too careless to see its cold clutches. Like glitter, which is likely coming out of the confetti cannons as well. Like streamers and ribbons that would coat him like festive dander.
He cannot escape confetti.
"C4?" "Right away." a little vacuum cleaner appears from a torso compartment, and the droid begins running it over Fyrris's shoulders, to start.
A winner! Tamsin, having finished the last of her skewers, lifted hands to clap for the winners, allowing the rest of of her trash to end up in the receptacle. Leave the place cleaner than you found it, clearly. Something very like a smile curved her lips as she reached out a hand to accept the credit chit from her bet, tucking it away into one of her many hidden pockets before she turned off the sign she had brought with her. "Worth bearing up in the cold, I think," she offered to those sitting around her, "I am looking forward to the next. Perhaps with my usual champion?"
Given he has not bet any money, Kye seems content with the results, nodding a greeting to Tamsin on his way out of the stands. There's a smile to follow that before he's retreating for warmer climes than the Ice Planet Arena in the aftermath of the adrenaline-fueled race. He finds the serendipity in himself to discard the cup on his way out, too.
