Log:The Boonta Eve Classic: 2021

The Boonta Eve Classic: 2021

OOC Date: May 19, 2021
Location: Tatooine
Participants: Evie Leven, Nerys Greystorm, Mandl, Hadrix Kora, Terek Rosol, Yuun, Ahsoka Tano, Andan Qorbin, Mortina, Netep Muri and Lord Chuck the Hutt

It is the BIG day!

Tatooine has been all a buzz about the resurrection of the Boonta Eve Classic that has been brought back by the Benevolent Lord Chuukkic the Hutt. The Hutt Lord is lovingly known as Lord Chuck by his fans. He's recently come back to Mos Espa to try to upgrade the 'tourism' aspect of the place on behalf of the Hutt Lords. The Grand Arena has been undergoing repairs and upgrades to prepare for this event. That means that one must give their guests a show after that was done! The arena is already packed as the time for the start of the race draws near. And his Huttlyness is settled up in one of the VIP boxes that are lavishly appointed with attendents and those going to and fro with food for the guests.

The stands are already filled to the brim with Mos Espa locals and those who have travelled from all around the galaxy to see the pod race. Would there be crashes? Rivalries? Death?! It was all anticipation and there would only be one way to get rid of it. And that is by being here and watching the race!

Droids and their teams are already making sure that the pods of their racers are ready to go and towed out to the starting line for last minute prep. There are teams that have put a lot of money into this race and others that...by some act of the Gods have managed to make it to the starting line.

There are holodroids that float around, ready to record and broadcast the race to the rest of the Galaxy that hasn't managed to make it here.

And of course there are the shady folks that are taking bets for the bookies who are going to get paid big today!

Nerys Greystorm was no hot pod racer on the circuit, that was true. But she had garnered enough wins across mixed racing competitions, that she did not, at least, look entirely out of place as she waited by the pod racer which had been acquired for her. A team of droids, who all looked much too shiny and new to have spent more than the minimum amount of time required in Tatooinie's desert climes to prepare for the race, scurried around as the slim redhead waited for the race to begin. She was dressed in suitable fashion, all things considered, in a swoop suit which had been tailored for her and shaded in tones of red and gold to match her hair. As she waited, she cast a casual glance across the arena, taking in both her fellow competitors and the swelling crowds.

Mandl does their best not to get too invested, competiting for the practice and the exercise-of-skill. Fortuna-be-blessed they're-- maybe(?) too nearsighted to see the odds laid on their competing, but Glopball!! was a one-off, surely? When their moment on the Jumbotron comes, they wave amiably to the crowd! "stoopa, keta! D'emperiolo hoohah copah shag chowba k'wanna!"

A chiss woman, with cool, neutral features stands at the edge of one of the stands - looking down at the race track below. Around her, Mortina could hear a babble of different languages as alien beings jostled one another to take seats - several of them already appearing inebriated, even though the race had yet to even begin. To get inebriated and suffer the resulting dehydration, on a world where water costs as dearly as it does? It hardly makes sense to her.

Turning away from the railing, she begins to make her way up, higher into the stands rather than jostling for a position closer to the action, with the pressing, and stinking smell of the crowds around her.

Near the expansive seating of the arena, standing to keep the sand and... Well, arena grit, off of his vantablack, double-breasted Hapan suit, a man folds his arms as he looks around. He came to Mos Espa to deliver an order to a merchant, and he holds a small metal package under one arm as he leans on an ornate silver cane. When B'haav Adasta had gone to the weapons shop to make his delivery, the sign had said, 'Gone to Boonta Eve Classic', and a few questions had led the Balosar here. A black bowler hat hides his antennapalps so he just looks like any other overdressed human. A tug at his elbow causes him to turn, finding an exuberant Zeltron woman who asks, "Have you placed a bet? I have a book if you have credits."

"No, thank you," B'haav replies with a polite smile. "I don't gamble in games I don't understand. And... I've never seen a pod race."

"What do you need to know? They go fast, people die, someone comes in first. If it's really good, no one comes in first. Everybody wins."

"That sounds like your book wins in that case." The Balosar shakes his head again and holds the package a little tighter. "You don't happen to know the owner of the Weapons Shop, do you? I'm looking for-" The rest of the Balosar's question is drowned out by a revving engine as something catches on fire. When he looks back, the Zeltron is gone. Steel-grey eyes turn back to the race, drawn to watch despite his route's schedule.

Evennia Leven (now also known as Evie Kora) is a name that carries some weight to it in the galaxy, and the former First Order officer wears that name with pride. Doesn't hide her face from her fans or foes alike, and enver stops wearing a bright, cheerful smile. What people may or may not know about the famous turncoat, the 'Empress of the Void', is that during her youth? She was a swoop racer. The dangers of a race on the ground is no stranger to the Kuati, and it doesn't put any fear into the young woman. If anything? It seems to invigorate her. Clad in a black and white colored swoopsuit, she's practically bouncing on her heels as she makes last second checks to her machine. She'd hired some locals to help, but did most of the heavy lifting on the pod racer herself.

It was time to put her claim of being able to fly 'anything with an engine' to the test. Because this one? This one had two freakin' huge ones.

A lumbering throne on droid legs ambles across the sand to one of the pods set for the race. What most likely used to be some sort of swoop main fuselage. Given over to the minds of clan members from the surface of Mandalore it has been converted to a monstrosity intended for speed and, most likely, close quarters maneuvering in the field. Spiked and finned with outsized repulsor systems attached with the sort of speeder engines one might use to give a hover-tank the power to move are reigned to the front, cabled to the command couch. And so Mandalore and Kora is represented in the Boonta Eve this day.

Not clad in heavy plates, though still laden with jetpack, Hadrix rides with his helmet in his lap, one elbow on an armrest and his head back to look at the crowds on his approach. An ID10 painted matte black for stealth hovering at his shoulder and an old OOM B1 Battledroid marching before him as banner carrier, the flag blowing back showing the deep blue hand sigil of Kora with it's swirling, burning, palm set as coat of arms and the Mythosaur skull sigil of the Mandalorians set supporter to either side.

The trio stop before his monstrosity, with the big man stepping down and revealing a suit of armor more for show than protection, leather armor-skirt, heavy pauldrons, a chest strap with heart shield... savage down to the strapped on cuisse and greaves of his boots running into spiked sabatons. Tightening his gauntlets before his helmet is pulled on, a bit of transparisteel fixed to the normally empty T-visor to provide eye protection as the big man looks to the Twi'lek and Ithorian in mandalorian armor working with the Pit droids, giving him a thumbs up while he makes to slip behind the controls and run checks of his own.

A Togruta on Tattooine isn't really that outlandish. Especially not one dressed as plainly as Ahsoka is at this event. She slips easily through the crowds towards the seating, casually glancing around herself at the groups congregating together to enjoy the races. Seeing the swirls of dust off in the distance amidst the plateau drew memories she'd not thought about in ages.

Yeah, I was nine. I finished it in 15 minutes and 42 seconds. Ahsoka hadn't really cared much about the races themselves, but she always enjoyed listening to him speak about them. She knew it was against the code, his pride, but it was so hopeful.. it defied the darkness they faced so regularly. Of course you did, Master. You've only told me every year on the aniversary.

"Sorry..." She glanced over at the tall Ithorian who she'd bumped into, shaking her out of her thoughts. While it was enough to bring her back to the present, it couldn't dispell her grin. Whatever he'd become, today was always very special. So she chose to take pleasure in that...

At least today.

There isn't a two headed announcer like there might have been years before. Though the announcers today aren't conjoined, they do hold a resemblance to eachother. The twin Zeltrons known as Layola and Hania are all dolled up for their broadcasting on air. Loyola speaks in Galatic Basic and Hania speaks in Huttese to take on the other widely spoken language that is used in this region. "Good afternoon everyone and welcome to the Grand Arena in Mos Espa for the Boonta Eve podrace!" Layola speaks excitedly into the mic. "Today we will see some new faces to the pod racing scene and some familiar faces. Hopefully no ones face ends up on the canyon walls!" she snickers.

"Before we start the race, lets meet our racers!" she states. This is followed by the droids that are recording dipping down and moving closer to those that are racing. "Introduce yourselves." one states in a scratchy monotone.

"It'll be fine," Nerys offered as she stepped forward to shoo away the droids who were still fussing. "If it all goes belly up, I won't hold you personally responsible." This did not seem to put the droids at any greater ease, but Nerys had more important things to worry about than a handful of droids more concerned with the pod racer than the actual //racer//. Well, that was droids for you. Nerys, pushing down on the edge of the racer, vaulted up and into it, sliding herself down into the main chassis and securing herself as she brought the systems online, the engines whining and thrumming as though eager to be off. "And, as a bonus, you'll have more work to do. And that's the important thing, right?" As Nerys settled in, she lifted a hand to those competitors that she new, but was too far to offer any sort of meaningful conversation. As the reporter droids, such as they were, moved along to where she was waiting to begin, she looked over, flashing a smile. "Nerys Greystorm. Corellia." What else did they need to know?

Mandl, resplendently gallant in their own mind, somewhat ludicrously attired to the-- untrained eye-- marches confidently around their pod. "lorda. hoohah keta, ku mruishani jee-jee ku pankpa! togwa mee goba keta ku nibobo copah nobo stoopa dwana h'chu, togwa peteessa oot-main keepuna pankpa stoopa dwana k'wanna killee! ulwan droi apenkee uba: copah copah-- lorda punyoo copah dopa!" They pump their arms, Rocky-style, and strap themselves in...

As the racers faces are displayed on a large screen hovering over the stands, Mortina takes a moment to glance up towards it, taking in their introducations with her expression still calm and impassive. If she understood the way these races worked correctly - some of the racers would not live to see the suns set. And others were setting themselves up for lengthy recoveries - and //that//, she was sure, was what much of the crowd was here to watch.

And yet the racers themselves seemed quite pleased. It was odd.

B'haav is looking over the crowds in the stands when a tug pull shis attention. Rather than being on his elbow though, it's on the metal box under his arm. As the box begins to slip away, the Balosar spins to see a somewhat dirty young man already wheeling to make a run for it, the box midway into his arms. The Balosar is chasing after him, even as the drivers begin introducing themselves and the noise in the stand swells for local favorites.

Having arrived at Mos Espa with a friend, though Yuun moved to go get refreshments for the race and now he's finally made it to the stands. FInally making through the stands and finding his friend, he offers her a drink and hubba chips. "Did I miss anything?" he asks as he glances to her. He sits down and looks at the packed Grand Arena. "This is going to be fun!" he says having to raise his voice up to be heard.

"The one, the only Empress of the Void... Evennia Leven of Kuat! Place your best now for the best racer the galaxy has ever seen!" Evie declares proudly -- no lack of confidence on her part -- before blowing an air-kiss towards Hadrix and Terek, respectively.

Head lifting when the droid zips up, the massive Mandalorian's red bionic pupil can be seen through the otherwise black visor screen. Greeza and Pheegus already moving off with the pit droids while Gripper hooks onto the B1's back... and it's the battledroid who mounts up onto the throne to ride it back to the sidelines, muttering in a thick Concordian accent, "Glad 'e 'ad me upgraedid before 'e got 'imself kilt."

"I did that." Gripper notes.

"He told you to."

"Details."

Working his controls, running a last system sweep he allows a moment for the reporting droid, "Hadrix Kora, Clan Kora and Mandalore." and then his head is back down again, tapping a readout screen until movement catches the corner of his vision. Looking to Evie and giving an up-nod, due his face being concealed.

Then the red-light of his bionic blips dark and back up. A wink!?

EVERYONE'S Watching.

To see what they will do.

Everyone's looking.. at you.

Whoa.

Ahsoka, furrows her brow at the introductions of the various racers. The eccletic assortment of personas as colorful as professional wrestling, she can't help finding the padgeantry kind of endearing. The vendors with their warm cidars, freshly baked treats, and other assorted goodies draw her attention away after the majority of the racers have made themselves (and their teams) known.

Until Mandalore.

She doesn't know the clan name, but.. searching out the one who had spoken, it's not difficult to spot Hadrix and his collection of droids. Snort laughing at the absurdity of his Gladiator armor. A mental note is made to attempt to meet him afterwards.

Terek has been here the whole time, he has just been putting most of his focus on the pod and not really on the crowd. Until he hears someone say they should be introducing himself.

He lifts his head and lifts the visor on his helmet, "What? Isn't that the announcer's job?" He says, quietly to himself, before clearing his throat, and then raising his voice, "I am Terek Rosol, representing the planet of Cathar, and the city-tree of M'rek!"

He quickly hops up into the cockpit of his pod after his introduction is done. He's trying to stay focused.

Andan is in Mos Espa for a job, and waiting on reapirs for his ship when he catches wind of the 'big race' in town. So since he has time to burn, here he is. The smuggler is amongst the audience, though he was a last minute arrival, so he's wandering down some of the stone steps in the stands lookin for a place to sit... His eyes dart up to the racers and the activity ont he track, his large jacket blowing around his frame as he descends the steps and tries to stay out of people's way.

This is not the command you're looking for. (Try "help" or "+help" for help.)

The recorder droids that are filming the last of the racers introductions zip off the course when the time comes to start clearing people and droids off of it. The crowd is already cheering there hearts out for the racers. Some might be having small strokes over Hadrix's clothing choice, but, there's other's hoping they can see the racers after. The recorders zip up to focus on the box that Lord Chuck the Hutt is stationed in. He slither-waddles his way to the balcony and gives a deep chuckle that makes his rolls shake. He's a pretty joyful Hutt! As he speaks, the translators that he has on hand translate what he is saying.

"The Hutt's thank you all for coming to the rebirth of the Boonta Eve Classic!" he states. The crowd cheers after he starts. "If the racers are ready, we'll get this party started!" he calls before he starts to turn and slither back to his lounger.

Down on the field the droids are signalling for the race to begin.

Red...

       Yellow...

                Green...

That means go!

Nerys did not look away from the track, even as His Glorious Huttness made his way to the microphone. Surely they would get a glimpse of him as they went around the track. That would definitely be enough. Definitely. Inside her racer, Nerys' left foot tapped out a beat, not quite a song, but not quite random gyrations of her ankle. Her expression behind the helmet was set, entirely too focused on the track ahead.

Red...

       Yellow...

               Green...GO!

Her pod charged out of its lane, the engines screaming as Nerys drove as she always drove, as if there was some artifact at the end of the race she had to get to before some other space raider. It was all about motivation, right? Her hands were light and nible on the controls, the pod skimming along, leaving a cloud of sand in its wake as she banked and manuevered between the obstacles of the natural course. So far she was flying a fair fight, and did not move to interfere with the others drivers who might be in her vicinity.

Mandl turned the thrusters as the light went green! Six-fingered balls of blue-knuckled fury, interrupted by the occasional deft twist of a meter or dial! *snapkt, craaa-aaank.* They sped off, a whirlwind of begoggled intensity! Bank, dash! Bank, dash! It's on!

As the young man begins to make some distance with the metal box clasped to his chest, B'haav knows he won't keep up. So he plants a foot, and belts out in the way that Karshba the Hutt so often had. "peteessa dwana stoopa, nibobo-h'chu!" While the sound of bellowed Huttese doesn't carry to the whole arena over the sound of flaring engines and cheering crowds, the radius near the unassuming Balosar freezes, including the young man. On Tatoo, you don't run when a Hutt speaks, and B'haav abuses that instinct. With a quick whack of his cane to the youth's elbow, the metal box is dropped and B'haav picks it up with a warning point.

"duba punyoo togwa k'wanna," he warns, his gravelly voice dropped down an octave as his expanded chest delivers a large amount of air through a normal-sized windpipe. The tweep and swoop of Binary catches the Balosar's attention and he turns to spot a BB unit happily reporting that he spotted the owner of the store. B'haav smiles. Probably best to get this package handed off. The Balosar follows the BB to his buyer, keeping a closer grip on cane and package both lest this all repeat again.

Ah, and now the excitement begins. Mortina leans forward - just a little - watching the screen as floating camera catch the highlights of the action - some pods bursting forward into an early lead, two seeming to colide with one another. Another podracer cursing and pounding at his controls - some sort of sabotage, perhaps? A curious expression crosses the chiss woman's features as she watches it all play out.

whumWhumWHumWHUmWHUMwUHMwuHMwuhMwuhm ... Hadrix's jets seem to drop into a cooldown mode, the massive engines shaking to a point that it looks like the power couplers might suddenly fail with power drop.

Head shaking the big man taps at a toggle. A dull hum.

WOOOMPH!

There it was... Damned homeworlders and their blasted jury-rigs. Coil flux whatever they hell they called it on a reverse toggle. Not that the big man truly had time to consider than when flames from the back of the pod engines begins glassing sand and the Massive Mandalorian is sent on his way with a repto-avian tail kicked up in his wake.

Now -this-... was pod racing.

Andan's dark hair is a bit messed by the hot desert winds that rush over the stands. He runs a hand through it all while he apologizes to some large alien-types after stepping on their feet on his way to an open chair. He slips in to the seat then just as the race starts and lets out a mouthed 'wow' at the sight and sounds of the racers taking off, as well as the smells coming from the creatures sitting beside him. No wonder this this seat was vacant... The smuggler shifts uncomfortably and tries to bare through it.... eyes on the track, and the screens showing the race.

Handing the drink to Ahsoka, "Hey here." he says to her as he gives her the beverage. He looks on as the race starts and he grins, and lately he's been flying a lot lately, and this does get his heart racing as the racers take off. "This is my first time to be at one of these events." he laughs. Ahsoka is watching the races, leaning against the railing in front of her with the toes of her left foot pointed down against the sandy bench seating. One racer is already out, something for which these races are notorious, and likely from sabatage. Yuun's arrival draws her away from the start, accepting the drink. "Thanks... Yeah, I've never been to one either, but I've heard all about one of them. Seventy something years ago."

As soon as the light hits green, Terek slams the throttle forward and the engine immediately dies, "Oh come on!"

He starts flipping switches, clicking buttons, and then he pulls a wrench off of his belt and slams it against the control panel, which kicks the engine back online.

Now he's way too far behind, it's going to take a lot to catch up.

"Four hundred on Nerys, yeah?" Netep says around a mouthful of food to the Wroonian fellow who WAS just behind her but must've gotten held up by the crowd a'ways back because she's talking to herself. "Ahw wriff," In goes another bite of crispy, greasy mystery meat and the little traveler bumps knees with a few spectators and feels a slick paper baggy of fungichips escape her grip (somewhere between fingers and carton of sweets) and bounce off her left boot. "Sorry," the shuffling goes on, leaving the inconvenienced denizen with free snacks. Floor snacks. Dirty floor snacks.

Layola and Hania are commentating the race at a break neck pace, the adrenaline is up all across the board as the racers go hurtling down the first legs of the track at great speeds. "Hania it should be a straight and smooth shot for our pilots as they start out from Mos Espa and cross the Hutt Flats, there's a tricky corner in the Devil's Doorknob, but I'm sure most of them will be able to pull through it unscathed." she comments.

Hania's purple curls bounce as she talks to her sister, "Right you are Layola, I'm expecting will see some really good driving from this group." she grins. Then there is a racer that is halfway across the Hutt Flats that has an engine blow on his pod, talk about luck! "Ouch, that's going to set Tio back...it might even drop him out if his crew can't get it fixed!" they announce.

There's a few cheers mixed with boos from the crowd on that news.

"And now they are crossing into the Devil's Doorknob, let's see how they do as they go through that and into the Bindy Bend!" they states with enthusiasm.

If there was one sure thing about any race on any world, but none more than this world, is was that the courses never actually got easier or more familiar. The sand had a way of carving out new byways and overpasses in the rock, making even a course you had run before entirely new. And Nerys did not even have the comfort of having been here before. Still, that was unlikely to deter her. After all, all she could do was die. Well, she'd rather not die, well, nevermind, moving on. Nerys, hearing the alerts in her helmet of others racers in the vicinity, banked hard to the left, trying to skim along the edge of the course to get some distance between herself and the others approaching racers. It was about getting to the end, right? Hopefully in one piece? Right.

Mandl's own helmet sensors blink fanciful colors. Though able to maintain their position, they struggle to make any ground on Evie and her pod-- the predictive mapping, perhaps, flashes in spectra not optimal to the faceted eyes of a Bith. Pauvre Mandl! They focus on staying ahead of Nerys, probably cursing under their breath in Huttese and hoping the mikes aren't hot for "nobo mee nobata."

Andan is watching the rac on the big screens and trying to keep up, but whilst trying to focus, there are many different sized hands being shoved in to his line of sight. They are holding different types of weird alien snack foods that the large group of non-humans beside him are buying and passing credits over to the wandering vendors for. Andan is left sitting there trying to stare over the baskets of strange living snacks, and even weirder glowing goop filled glasses.

He clears his throat, tries to maintain his patience and just looks around it all as best as he can.

So far, pod racing feels like a mixture of two of her greatest loves; racing and flight. Afterall, a pod racer had twin engines, and the TIE afficiado has a bit of a history with twin engines! Plus, while it is every racer for their own, she also has the advantage -- and disadvantage -- of being very familiar with a couple of her other racers. So as the precarious turns of Bindy Bend come up, she swings her pod into an effortless sway. It's a technique that has her moving with the curves rather than against them, and is able to to use that technique to sneak past Nerys... surely, Hadrix has seen it more than once from her and will be able to take advantage!

A good thing for that transparasteel plate in the visor, the wind and grit buffeting would have blinded one eye and potentially knicked up the duranium and aurudium sclera and iris of his bionic. The Massive Mandalorian's grip on the controls remained relaxed, remembering lessons given in piloting fighter craft without shields applies quite well to riding in a chair strapped to engines that'd make a TIE look twice.

Thumb shoving a yolk switch forward the massive jetwash of the Mandalorian pod increases, leaving blackened sand and stone in his wake, the mad grin behind the visor hidden from view even if he speaks to himself, "Gehat'ike oyacyir'bat. Shi'Mando'ad olaror lo'eyn'gev." pod screaming past Evie at the Bindi Bend, tossing an up-nod her way in passing.

"Podracing?" Ahsoka asks Yuun, watching the race until they've all taken the first turn and disappeared in a cloud of dust. The big holoscreens follow after them, of course, but it's a good moment to break for conversation. "Not particularly. I've done some racing, but never anything like this... certainly not as big."

Judges' damnation...Netep looks into the bottom of a now empty cocktail after her schlooooooooooooorp through straw sucks up more air than liquid. With arms entangled in a delicate balancing act of her edibles, she pushes her way through toward what appears to be a Muri-sized slip of space between bodies on benches that, far as she's concerned, has her name on it. Also, there's glowing goop! Muri is drawn to color like a moonfly to the flame, so that liquid indigestion teetering in a rack on high seems like a perfectly acceptable thing to put into her gut.

She is still thirsty, afterall.

"Ey!" Somehow, those heaped cartons and bags get shoved into one arm's embrace, freeing up her other to join in the hands grabbing at the vendor. Only...less grabby, more pointing of finger. "Bo! Nah. Dopa!" She's really thirsty. "Hey, can I just...for a sec..." what gap exists between Andan and the 'smelly' alien exists no longer. The heap'o'snacks is deposited thusly by she without shame, then the transaction at play can more effectively occur. And the sooner that's over, the sooner she can sit and get the hell out of somebody's view of the giant screens. Even under wraps to keep out dust and debris, her hair is retaining some volume.

Yuun nods his head, "Oh nice. I've only recently started flying and by recently about a year ago." he grins. "So I'm trying to get a little bolder in what I do. Granted I would love to get a speeder bike or a nice Swoop." he tells her. When she mentions that she's raced, "Really, did you like it?" he asks. He glances as the holoscreens and then looks to the people in the stands watching. He can feel the excitement coming from the people, even though this is being run by a Hutt, the fact that people are enjoying themeselves causes Yuun to smile.

Terek finally gets thrust and he puts the throttle all the way forward. His pod shoots off the line, and begins to rapidly gain on the main pack. It's going to take a bit of work in order to get through all of the pack and try to make his way towards the front, but at least he's definitely moving now, and he can begin to gain on the group.

"Nothing like flying." Ahsoka says with a look over at Yuun, "I much prefer flying... but my Master..." A pause, brow furrowing and eyes darting back to the track. "He was in one of these." Pointing to the racers well off in the distance. "That's the only reason I came. It's the anniversary of that Race."

As Mortina continues to watch the race, a feline alien with grey fur sits down beside her - or perhaps more accurately, //drops// down beside her, a bottle held in one hand. He takes another swig from the neck of the bottle, and it's quite clear this fellow got an early start on the festivities. She glances aside at him, disdain showing on her features for a moment, before the chiss woman looks up once more at the screen, and the vid footage tracking the progress of the various racers.

"Oh wow." he says to Ahsoka. He looks back to her for a moment, "Well I'm glad we came." he smiles to her. He looks out at the screens, "I like flying myself, and honestly I've gotten a bit better." he says with a bit of a grin, "Nothing like a few others, but hey I have a couple of things I can do. If you want, you can fly us back." he offers.

The giant smelly alien sitting beside Andan offers him one of the wiggling lizard-snacks covered in a green slime, but Andan just smiles and holds up a hand to say 'No thanks' to the big guy. The alien of course starts to laugh at the queazy stomached human. When a seat in frontof him opens up, Andan non-chalantly stands up and takes a step over the ridge in front of him to occupy the new seat. Free of the distractions, he hopes, he puts his eyes up on the race screens again.

Layola and Hania are still keeping tabs on the racers, their voices expressing the emotions that are needed for this sort of race. Zeltrons, go figure. "The next leg of the course is through the Canyon Dune Turn, through the Laguna Cave and then trying not to lose their lunch in The Whip! This is where the course starts to get harder and some of the less experienced are going to back out or crash." a beat, "Quite literally crash ladies and gentlemen. We're about to see some gruesome stuff." Hania states. The camera pans over to catch Layola looking all too gleeful, "Yessss." the Zeltron giggles. Oh gods.

The racers are going to have a bit of a time with this. And that's already proven when there are reports of a double crash as folks start to enter the Whip. It's a windy place, but also there are curves to deal with. Ones that will get you killed. The holodroids display this to the crowd and there's a collective gasp followed by cheering as some of the other racers go past.

Towards the end of the Whip there are the sounds of what could be blaster fire. Evie and Terek are unscathed in this surprise attack, but Nerys, Mandl and Hadrix all get blaster rifle bolt scorches as a souvenir from the Tuskan Raiders camped out on the ridges.

What in the blazes was this? They were cave diving now? This was totally Nerys' bag, guys. Her pod, still under good control, swept through the turn around and through the canyon, and she zipped on into the cavern, eyes adjusting to the suddenly low light easily enough. She was raising hellbent for leather, because that was also her bag, shooting out towards the pinpoint of light she could see ahead when her pod was suddenly slammed to the side by one of the pod racers, a slimy little thing, tried to send her careening into the cave wall. She only just managed to compensate, gunning her engines to fly fry his/hers/they vision, before she swooped on out of the cave, heading down into the whipback turns that were the sort of thing that made such races worthwhile.

That was exactly what the Raiders thought, as they opened fire on the racers, Nerys only just catching the sound of the whine of their weapons and the cheering honk-snorts that went with it. She got nicked for her trouble, she she was still flying.

Mandl is bypassed in clouds of swirling orange and brown, twelve fingers moving ably but considering the level of competition, might be outside a geologist's wheelhouse. Hoverh-- you know what, never mind that. Though they streak along the dunes at breakneck speed, they're barely able to track the opposition as they fall behind. Irate Tusken howls and a few blaster-bolts do them no credit, and they spend a moment reconsidering whether learning Tusken would've been of benefit... at 300kph, though!

When it comes to racing, it's all about picking your spots. Stay in the race, prepare for just that right moment when fortune meets opportunity... and *seize* it.

As mentioned, Evie knows a couple of the other racers very well. None better than she knows Hadrix. So when she starts to zone in on Hadrix, riding the slipstream left by the Big Man's wake ... and then? She presses forward on the thrust, driving her acceleration forward. There's no flirtatious teasing as she makes the pass -- she's in the cockpit, now, which means Serious Evie has taken over. It's a good thing for her, too, as she's able to twist her pod out of the way of incoming blaster fire *and* gain a nice lead as a result! Wind whips through the woman's dark hair as she soars ahead, and a bright smile is present on her face. This moment? This moment right here shows her that she made the right choice leaving the First Order. Kylo's military... and likely Malik's as well, would have never offered Evie this chance at glory.

Another burst from the repulsors and adjustments with directional thrusters casts the Mandalorian pod across the raceway, 'bouncing' off of the opposing wall and carrying it over a small reptilian alien in a disk like pod hauled by a trio of sleek looking engines.

It's all dust and chaos - screaming engines wind and Hadrix doing as he can to level out and not smash into the canyon walls of the dreaded Dune Turn. The massive engines cut for a second and then flare back to life throwing off his balance and his moments within the caverns is made up in the form of narrowly dodging stone formations both tight and might or connected only to burst out into the sun again.

Ahh the sky. Hey there washed out blue, quite glad to be with - PWANGINGINGING cycler rifle fire puts a hole in the side of one engine, throwing off thrust and vent flaring the Massive Mando who scrabbles to get a sealer flap closed over the hole with a quick jostle of controls and a loss of position at the same time.

But now he might have himself a 'weekend hobby' coming up... Hunting in the deserts. All the while honking and ronking the few words of sand person he knows. Insults really. Only insults.

Oh, well....that's good fortune! When Andan vacates his seat, Muri's heap topples over, but now she's got more room to squeeze in. So does. "Zanki," Netep holds out a hand to accept slimy lizard snack instead to replace what bit of her remaining 'mystery meat' slid from its packaging onto bench. A little flick of the wrist bats it away before sitting.

Tomorrow will bring nothing but pain for her insides surely, but that's several hours away! No regrets in the moment.

The goo is swallowed just in enough time to sputter out a cheering WHOOP to see Nerys emerge from the cave, blur by on vid. Still alive, still in the game, Muri mightn't lose her 400 credits. Although technically...did Nyk even hear her place her bet? Doesn't count if he didn't. Like a profogg peeking from its burrow, the Lorrdian mutt cranes her neck as tall as it'll stretch with rump still rooted in place, searching for a glimpse of the scowling blue face.

Terek's pod is actually performing the way he expected finally. All it took was a little bit of loving hitting it with a wrench. Sometimes that's all these pieces of tech require!

Weaving around through the crowd of pods, he manages to pull the turn through the Whip perfectly in line to allow him to pass several racers. Soon enough he finds himself in second place...And he's probably more surprised than the other racers.

He can see Evie in the distance, but he's seen her in action piloting before. He knows it's going to take every last bit of skill, and a lot of luck, to catch up to her.

Andan looks back over his shoulder to see Netep taking his former seat and indulging in that snack he turned down. It makes him smirk at them and offer a slight nod of recognition toward them before he turns back around. When a vendor finally comes by offering food for humans, Andan takes out some credits and buys a cold alcoholic beverage that he can identify. He holds it in his hands then and takes a welcomed sip to fight off some of the Tatooine heat, his eyes going back to the screens.

Netep meets Andan's nodding smirk with a little 'salute' of half-eaten lizard goo. Judging from the /real/ expression on her face, so squarely fixed forward and away from the generous being who offered it up, she won't be finishing that other half. Cap'n Muri'll try anything once...but some things don't warrant a second go. It's tucked discreetly under the wrapper of her fungi chips, which are emptied after another handful transports the crunchy calories to face. She's been up over 24 hours and in need of fuel.

While a quiet belch gets muffled halfassedly so behind fist, Netep uplifts violet eyes to track the progress of the racers. A few wisps of blackish curls dance weightlessly around in her vision when a little gust kicks up across the stands. In all her layers of garb, the heat has yet to be a bother for the desert dweller, but a fine shimmer of sweat does touch her brow.

400 credits. C'mon, Nerys......

Netep rubs at the side of her nose with a stubby fingernail and slurps a shot of glowing goop.

Up in the box's for VIP's and visiting big shots there is a black and crimson robed figure that is looking over the course and the crashes with concern in their yellow gaze. "Why do they do this, Nara?" is asked quietly as a gloved hand is lifted to motion to the screens that display the wreckage. The older lady that has been addressed rises from her seat and moves closer, "I think it is for sport, my Lady. Same as hunting is for you sometimes." she suggests quietly. The yellow eyes flick over to woman and there's a nod of her head, "I guess that could be like that. But I tend to eat what I kill animal wise." she sighs softly. "I'm not sitting in on one of these functions again. I have other time I can put time towards." she states simply as she makes her way for the exit of the box that they were in. Other things to get back to!

MEANWHILE!

Layola and Hania are nearly sitting on the announcer desk as the race nears it's completion. The purple and pale blue haired Zeltrons are wide eyed and look anxious to see who might be winning this race. Or who might be crashing into a canyon wall.

Then the end is in sight. "They're coming out of Beggar's Canyon, approaching Mushroom Mesa and then it's a straight shot to the finish line!"

Once the racers were clear of the Sand People, if there was such a thing as being clear of Sand People, those sneaky so and sos, Nerys righted herself, a scan of her instruments showing that she was still flying under, well, mostly, full power. And that meant gunning the engine to use up as much fuel as she could for the end. The Canyon yawed ahead and Nerys' racer sliced across the distance, sweeping left and right so as to make herself less of a target as she careened out into the straightaway towards the finish line. She would look up to see where she had ended up when she was sure she wasn't about to end up dead.

Mandl, head down-- focused on finishing the race without dying! Surely there was honor in that, between massive dust-devil whorls of grit and smoke. Pod in one piece, rider in one piece, not everyone could say they'd done such a thing! Engines roaring, sweat beading-- they focus! They strive!

Terek manages to get his pod through Beggar's Canyon and the Mushroom Mesa. It's when he's on the home stretch that suddenly the full throttle tactic bites him in the tail, as black smoke begins to pour out of both engines, followed soon after by fire. He slams his fist into the control panel a couple of times, "No no no! Damn!"

He's far enough away from any spectactors that he cuts the engines from his cockpit, which drops down into the sand an skids along for a bit as the engines slam into the sand further away and explode, "Damnit!" He may be out of the race, but at least he didn't crash in the stadium.

Mortina remains untilt he end of race - enjoying every crash, every explosion, even moment of chaos captured by the hovercams - as she offers a faint shake of her head. The chiss woman's attention turns next to the sloopy feline drunk beside her. "This isn't somewhere to sleep, buddy," she remarks, helping the man to his feet, and letting him drape and arm around her shoulder. "Let's see if we can get you home - hrm?" she offers - as she starts helping the being down from the stands.

Getting the pod rolling, in a manner of speaking, is going middling still. Surviving not getting thrown into a dust-ball like some holo-toon character slipping on a bread-fruit peel, Hadrix compensates by turning into the venting still getting past some of the shunt plate. Snarling and slamming a fist on the controls as he watches others surging around him. Attempting to get jammed controls working.

Twisting the control yolk and putting his feet down on the etheric rudder pedals controlling directional thrusters the Big Man manages to wend his way at last to the final flats of the race. No expectation to place, but for a competition famous for being great in difficulty to humans? Fourth isn't a poor position to slide into at the last moments.

Layola, Hania, even The Hutts are up on there rolly bellies to see who is going to be in the first place position, second and third. It's an exciting time for this. Evie's got a hell of a lead on people, no doubt she'll take first. Followed by Nerys Greystorm in second and Mandl in third! The announcers are jumping up and down, "For the first time in galactic history we have a female winner of the Boonta Eve Classic! The Empress of the Void, Evie Kora!" they announce.

And the crowd goes NUTS! There are cheers and chants for those that place almost immediately. Oh boy, these guys just became FAMOUS!

Lord Chuck's rotundness waddles to the balcony again and his mic cuts on, "We'll be getting your winnings out to you. Congratulations to my winners" he calls out in a cheerful tone.

Happy Hutts. Scary things.

Lesson Two Of Racing: Once you have the lead? Don't give it up.

Evie's living by that exact creed, here. Since taking the lead, the pedal is against the metal, so to speak. She's running her engines hotter and hotter and she knows it -- during her run on the practice course, this very method caused her to blow out an engine. Warning lights start to beep on her console as she gets closer and closer to the finish line. The images of the other pods in her rear view get closer and closer... but so does that beautiful checkered flag. The reason for the race... and she's the one who crosses under it!

Now, and only now does she allow herself to celebrate, screaming out in pure joy and pumping her fists in the air. This. This was all worth it!

"Tch," Muri tsks at the final results, but it's with a smile that she does so. So she may have lost a few idly placed bets made while waiting in line for food, eh? Is not so bad...

"Oy, petchuck!" A pair of yellow eyes looms over heads as the lanky Wroonian finally catches up to her position, scanning the many rows for the little woman he last saw scurrying this way. "You owe ME, yah!?" Look at that broad, proud show of teeth...what a grin.

Netep doesn't stick around to be dazzled by it. Where once there was a Muri, there's now assorted scraps and garbage, as she goes slinking into the crowd. She might be short, but Nyk is tall and her progress gets halted by body mass of all those between her and exit. It's only a matter of time before he catches up.