Log:The Boonta Eve Classic: 2022

The Boonta Eve Classic: 2022

OOC Date: May 19, 2022
Location: Tatooine
Participants: Vega, Nerys Greystorm, Mandl, Zhu Yan, Kalys, Kin-Li Kel, Kael Greystorm, Caius Sentari, Migs Mayfeld, Rey, Kohnner, Uutkit, Qutha Buvu Pah, Shimmer, Hahtavi Kora,Nora Frayus

It is THE day!

A lot of fans have been waiting for the second running of the Boonta Eve Classic now that it had been ressurrected. This year there is however a new Master...or Mistress of Ceremonies in one Memar the Hutt. She is carried on her litter, which is the only proper way for a Hutt to be presented to their public on occasions such as this.

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 was by being here to witness the race in the flesh.

Shim Productions is providing service to a small VIP area and they seem to already be having fun even before the official start of the race. Drinks are being poured and there is laughter that hangs about the area.

Racer's and their teams are triple and quadruple checking their lists for the race start as they move from the racer hangar and onto the course, heading for the starting line. The crowd lets out a cheer as some of the favorites are seen. But there are murmurs as there is no sign of the Empress of the Void who won last year. Miss Evie Kora would not be back to defend her title this year.

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!

Down on the track is a rather pale white haired woman that is checking over one teams machine, "Did you hit /every/ womp rat on the way over? Good gods." Vega mutters as she shakes her head and scoops out some gooey looking pile from one of the blades. She flicks it off and onto the ground. Then she's using her toolkit to fix some of the wiring, "You're going to have to do a LOT of praying." the latex wearing Echani states as she tries to get the ship to a better state before the starting bells sound.

"Looks like it's time to duel to the death, Mandl." Such cheery words, offered in a cheery tone. Nerys, who had been leaning against the wall not far from the pod racer she had rented for the event. Because that always went well, stepped over to pay her respects to His Bithness, Bitty peeking out over her shoulder. Both woman and droid offered fistbumps to the Bith Master Geologist, even making finger splashes before they headed off towards their pod racer. "Luck, love." That, to Kael, as she passed him too, fingers reaching out to brush the back of his hand. "Dinner's on the winner." A flash of a smile, before Nerys hopped up into the pod, Bitty offering a rude gesture to Kael, before she snapped herself down onto Nerys' back. Someone had to be the bad guy here. A moment to check her helmet and Nerys was all business, as the pod was moved to the starting line.

SNAP!

That was the sound of oversized goggles smacking into the face of Zhu Yan, covering his eyes and eliciting an "ow!" which could have been avoided if he'd simply put them on properly. What was he doing in the race? Who had he bribed? Why was he wearing his thick fluffy Jacket over the top of modified protective Specialist armour? WHERE WAS HIS HELMET?! These are all questions that Yan clearly had answers to but wasn't telling, mainly because it was noisy down there on the starting line and he was clambering into the cockpit of his Podracer. The glorious J-1210 Dash-8, similar to old Ebe Endocott's daily driver but with less blue paint, it looked like a couple of tubes with three giant fins on each engine pointing forward. He'd gotten it for a steal last week, by which I mean he actually stole it.

Yan in a Podracer, god help us all.

"Empress of the Void, my shiny metal thigh-bone!" It's true, it was metal. "This is the Year of the Yan! I am a twelve on the one-to-ten scale of badass! There has never been a man like me in all of history!" Who was he talking to? No one could hear him, least of all himself. "Men want me and women want to be me, I mean, the other way. Whatever! Yeah! Whoooh!"

Kalys and her rather small team of farmhands and enthusiastic family friends and acquaintances are busily checking over what can be affectionately referred to as a pile of junk. There's something to be said to being bound to their farms for a lifetime, and this chance to blow a little dust off themselves and the junk they have scattered about their places is one chance they can't pass up. The machine could certainly have done with a lick of paint, though it seems there was little time for that, so sand-streaked rust is a pattern that afflicts their machine from fore to aft. Kalys smirks faintly, crookedly even as she eyes the machine. There's a chance it might just collapse upon ignition, yet the fire-haired moisture farmer pulls those goggles from her brow and sets them over her eyes as she slips 'aboard' the machine that is mostly spare parts and replacements. It isn't pretty. But it might do something. A few sparks give one 'mechanic' a start, though they are soon all back to tinkering as the time to start ticks closer.

Sunlight beats down on the stands and the vast arena. Among the many, many beings collected here to watch the racing event, it's no surprise perhaps to see a Mandalorian. Kitted out in mostly grey and black heavy armor with muted greens and browns, this one moves slowly through the aisle along one of the many railings. It doesn't look like the Kora aims to take a seat. No, likely a bounty hunter on the prowl, using his helmet's HUD system to scan faces in the crowd and use software to do countless facial recognition matches against wanted bounties.

Or maybe he's just here to take in the race and buy a soft drink. Who knows?

Hahtavi finally settles at the railing to lay his gloved hands upon it for a long moment to survey the gathering.

Kin-Li Kel is having an animated conversation with the pit crew of the Halbos Water Surveying entry while the former driver, a chained, unconscious, bleeding Rodian, slumps over in the corner after his stomping. IS that cerebrospinal fluid dripping from his antennae? Probably not good.

The new driver, Kin-Li, is receiving a crash course in how to handle the pod. He seems to take everything seriously, though, to be honest, he looks a little out of his depth. Finally, he lashes out in a snarl of anger, uncharacteristically. "I heard you. Don't exceed 23,000 RPM!" A shake of his head, and he pulls his visor down, blocking out the world.

Kael's here and next to his pod racer as he looks it over a bit making sure it hasn't been overly tampered with as best he can before he stands up happy with what he's seen. Looking over at Nerys he offers a wave towards her, "So I don't need to worry about paying for dinner. Thank goodness. G'luck darlin don't leave me too far behind you in the dust."

Mandl's team is probably a healthy mix of Ugnaughts and 'droids, considering where they hang their prodigious hats. Nerys is greeted with a complex series of handshake-movements, in-kind. Kael gets a measured nod. "Be careful out there!" They check a six-fingered palm, reviewing their victory-speech in passable Huttese under their breath...

Caius had slipped into the arena early and made (read: jostled) his way through the crowd into the highest possible section of the bleachers that had some amount of shade and made himself comfortable, rifle slung and helmet set beside him. Seems his only intention for this day is to watch, but he's wearing a bit of a subtle grin - as if excited for something beyond the race.

It's not often there's a sporting-esque event taking place that Migs can actually make it to. So when this particular one started putting up advertisements, Migs certainly opted to attend. Not to race, mind you. Hell no. He's here with a few bottles of lum to tide him over and a sausage-in-a-bun. Tatooine's finest mystery meats from that legit-looking cart over there.

Slouching in his seat, Migs pops the bottlecap from his booze and squints towards the race track with an expression of permanent scrutiny. But that just could be how his face looks. It is. It is how his face looks. Mayfeld takes a swig as the announcements begin filtering in, draping an arm on the back of her chair and manspreading like the old arsehole that he is.

Into the General observation area entered Kohnner, the Klatooinian. While not remarkable among the likely very diverse crowd of the arena, he did wear a seemingly brand new suit of Void Armor, sans helmet which rested on a belt around his hip, swaying with each moment he made. He had a limp, favoring his right leg as the left was dragged around with diminished movement, clearly an injury he was still recovering from. Hot wind funneling through the race track caused the lightly tan colored hooded cloak he wore to flutter ever s so slightly.

The Canine was not a betting man but he enjoyed a good sporting event, especially if it was as notoriously deadly as the Boonta Eve Classic. Instead, he opted to spend his money on some type of meat stick which he held in his hand. He stopped at the railing near the starting point, deciding to stand instead of sit in the shoulder to shoulder seating. He put his elbows on the railing and leaned forwards before taking a bite of the beef stick.

Squinting across the starting line, there he spotted the short and harry man who had (or some unknown reason) helped him procure a ship. "Herm..." Perhaps he would be a betting man on this day.

Rey had promised some local kids that she'd take them to the race, and thusly here they are. Seated together amongst the crowd, with one of the children on either side of her. Rey looks between them, having just sat down, she's offering them both some of the snacks they procured from the vendors. "Here, and here." She says with a light smile. "Can you see good?" She asks them both, before getting nods and energetic responses. A grin crosses Rey's lips as she nods to them both. "Excellent. This is going to get loud, so make sure that your ears are ready, yeah?" The little girl on her left covers her ears while the little boy just rolls his eyes. Rey laughs softly at them both.

If this planet had a more reliable water source, it would be perfect. Jacket off, shirt open, no hat and just soakin' in all the sunlight while sipping on a pouch of water with little cryo-pods keeping it cool. The greenish undertone to his skin even more pronounced right now and any time a shadow from a banner or the like moves to block his light his body seems to shift to get back into the rays where he is seated.

Sure it's loud. But it's something to see while he gets his twin-suns time in.

Oh! And there's Rey, who else might pop up?

"Bawwwaaawk..." The sound makes Qutha freeze and turn his head to see a little head poked out of the jacket piled next to him, blinking owlishly.

"How?"

"Bwuah-awk..."

"I had the droid run scans."

"Bwuwk." the little avian stares up at the Zelosian who sighs and digs a little seed out of a pouch on his belt, shaking his head and feeding the critter.

Kalys says, "Bwuah-awk..."

"I had the droid run scans."

"Bwuwk." the little avian stares up at the Zelosian who sighs and digs a little seed out of a pouch on his belt, shaking his head and feeding the critter."

Race day. It's a big deal. Bigger for the Firrerreo as he scans quickly over inventory for the third time. Everything on the special rider was provided - cakes from Bespin, Spiced nuts from Kessel, Socorro Sliders from... Coruscant, of course. The logistics to get it all in place at the right time, the right temperature... A half dozen couriers had been hired just to supplement his roster for this one event. But the pay's good, and the experience...

Well, it's hot. The massive blocks of ice and hand fans are doing good work under the canopies, but the cold drinks are keeping the VIP's cool, and the alcohol and other additives are keeping them happy. Shimmer, having ordered up the next few cases, takes a moment to step to the side and forward to the rail, looking down to all the racers. He stands there for a moment, golden skin glimmering in the twin suns-light. The contemplation lasts only a moment as a voice calls for one of the specialty items behind the bar. Rarely a dull moment, and never a quiet one. Shimmer gets back to work, serving up a bounty that would have fed a few villages for a year if it had been sold for raw credits.

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.

Once people are done with introductions to the camera and the audience that is watching back in the stands and at home the droids zip back out of the way and the announcers come back on, "We have a lot of new blood...lets hope none of them spill it out there." Hania chuckles.

Then the crews are heading off the course, preparing for the race to start which is just a few moments away.

What event on Tatooine would be complete without some natives? And what swoop racing event would be complete without those little robed creatures with the glowing eyes.

"om om! ghevaethie tupaetave oomeph!" Uutkit stands on the racing track itself, or rather, next to it. He is pointing and gesturing to his jabbering clanmates, who rush about, chittering in their native language as they make preparations. Repulsor-sleds are readied and tested, always prepared to attend to a crash incident. Being this is a first-come, first-served sort of thing, Uutkit is careful to make sure his clan's equipment is ready to go. "ghiedoogha, aapophet ghiethivoow kelaelasoo roore.. oosaw wif, ygazae iekosafy eapeadaefa todiezaaj. daevoogiw ghevaethie foorhaevaado uthome if toov liwefuph uhefevus ghevaethie eghegi gyry." he murmurs, snickering as he waddles to the edge of the starting line. Kalys is spotted, the little Jawa waving a gloved hand, 'Utini!' [Language: Jawa_Trade]

Nerys, who had settled into her pod, took the time to make both final adjustments to gear and racer and to get a look at the field of the competition. A lot of new faces. But that only made the race more exciting. As the holocameras came her way, Nerys lifted a hand in greeting to the camera. "Nerys Greystorm!" Not a name that would be terrible unfamiliar to racing fans, of course. The smollest Greystorm had been the points leader in the just finished swoop circuit that had blazed through the galaxy. But the cameras were soon on to the next, and Nerys settled into prep for the start.

"I swear that makes it hard to listen to," grumbled Yan, sticking a finger in his ear and wiggling it as he tried to follow two trains of conversation. Speaking Huttese and Basic fluently was normally an asset, but now he was getting the whole spiel mashed up in his head.Speech time!

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" boomed Zhu Yan, ripping his goggles off and throwing his arms out wide. Alas, his grip was terrible, and the goggles whipped out of his hand and thwapped into the sand. "Sithspit. Uh," hurry up and recover! "You wanted to see speed? You wanted to see power? You wanted to see gloriousness?!" The short, fat, hairy smuggler flexed, showing off what would have been totally unmuscled arms hiding in that michelin man suit of his.

"You people have been led to believe that mediocrity is excellence! Now I, Zhu Yan," pronounced 'zschuyen', like someone dragging a carrot across a grater, "will remind you what the cream of the crop looks like!" He was gesticulating now, pointing at the camera and making glaring eyes. "'Cause I'm the Yan! And I'm," and now he reared back to scream at the sky, "...AWESOOOOOOOOOOOOOME!"

The hovering camera is eyed by Kalys for a moment, the smile that is forthcoming for this aspect of the race is as ever slow to appear as any normal Remshi smile. Though soon enough, the left corner of Kalys' mouth twitches everso faintly upwards. "Kalys Remshi, I'm here with my fellow farmsteaders!" A fist is raised into the air and a collective mumble of semi-energetic whoops are raised. Why there's even a faint hollar and then the tinkering resumes as last minute patches to the pod are made.

"Yeah, we're here to race!" One of the pit crew announces, giving the pod a good thump on the front, which in turn causes something to fall off towards the rear. Cue some hasty repairs back there too as another of the 'crew' moves to re-attach whatever fell off. However upon deciding that things are still functioning somewhat, and reattaching whatever the part is involves too much effort, said part is quickly kicked out of sight and out of mind, sending it clattering away from the pod as the crew disperse. Kalys, thankfully oblivious to all, catches sight of Uutkit's wave and gives a quick wave back from her seat! "Utini!"

Kin-Li Kel doesn't seem to be the...cheerful sort. As equipment begins starting up, he seals his helmet, begins checking seals, and runs his finger along the status board with the air of a man who doesn't know what in the hell he is looking out. Finally, though, other racers begin talking to the cameras, and he impassively waits his turn, like a man resigned to execution.

And, then, the holorecroder droid finally hovers overhead. The cheerful hosts begin with the barrage of questions, but then end on, "What's your name?!"

There is nothing more than a grunted, soft, "Kin-Li."

Dead air fills the sound system for a few seconds before they realize that that's all they are getting.

Kael offers a wave towards the droid that comes down to get closeups of the racers as it gets to him with a grin on his face, "Kael Greystorm." He offers a final wave as he climbs up into the pod racer, settling the helmet on properly and securing the eye protection for the race.

While they are waiting for the race to heat up, Hahtavi turns back and starts moving through the crowds once more. He scans the stands, watching out for certain faces or simply for people he might know. The Mandalorian has become a semi-regular visitor to Tatooine. Zhu Yan's voice comes over the speakers in the arena. The Kora glances towards the racers below, then back to the stands.

There's a vendor selling bottles of water, chilled, for way too much. The Mando pauses to request one and hand over some credits. No removing his helmet. The armored bounty hunter continues his slow progress through the crowd along the semi-open aisle and heads for a spot of shade to pause.

The water bottle gets opened. Helmet tipped slightly so he can drink some of the water without removing his helmet. Good enough.

A face once in a long while catches his attention, or someone familar, but mostly strangers all around him. None cause him to respond, as yet. Racers, giving introductions.

Mandl lifts their gaze, covered by an eyeless helmet studded with plugs for computer interface, to the crowd. "Honored guests, I am Dr. Mandl B'rot!" [Language: Huttese]

"Introductions?" grunts the bald man from behind another swig of his lum, his face only growing more sour at the prospect. "Do we need introductions? Their names should be on the bettin' slips." It occurs to Migs that not everyone bets on these kinds of races. He also doesn't care. "Came here to see a crash. Hopefully before I burst into flames. Damn suns." He raises the mouth of his bottle once more then---

'Bwuah-awk.'

"Da fekk was that?"

'Bwuwk.'

Blue eyes slide over to the man next to him with the green-undertone skin. Then his gaze falls to the big-eyed creature poking out. "What the hell is that?" He points towards the creature with the neck of his drink. "Like a pet or a snack or somethin'?"

Oh, by the Suns it got loud... blinking rapidly and moving to cup his hands over the little avian's ear holes to protect them from the din, "This is why I tired to have you all stay at the new sanctuary... or the ship when you won't listen..." shaking his head slightly, "Bother..."

Mig's inquiry raises his head and Qutha sits up with the little avian in his arms, snuggling in and making cooing sounds while its little webbed feet stick out and flap some.

"It." lips pursing, eyeing the old man for a long moment, "I suppose in this instance it would be a pet." the creature snortling, kicking its feet and letting loose with a mighty

"Awww-baaaawuk?" before settling in and accepting its tithe of head pets while continuing to give Migs 'The Bug Eyes' from the safety of Qutha's lap.

"Oh bother."

Caius had remained on his high perch, unmoving except to take a sip from his own bottle of water which he likely swiped from a nearby sentient. Speaking of sentients, a bunch of them had coalesced near the bench he was sitting on. Seems they have manners, because they looked to the crimson-armoured man for some sort of affirmation. Too bad Caius has no manners, because he simply looked at them flatly for a beat before faux-lunging at them like a chained junkyard dog.

"Boo!", he exclaims at them - and It's super effective! They end up scurrying off and leaving Caius to his solitude. The man celebrates with lighting up a cigarette, settling down to watch the proceedings.

The children with Rey are eagerly soaking up the sights and sounds of the race, and the racers introducing themselves. They laugh at some of what is said, or happens, while one points out other things going on down on the track. Rey just enjoys it all with a soft smile upon her visage. She raises up her silver canteen to take a sip of whatever is within it. At one of the kids asking her a question, Rey nods her head. "I've been to a few races now, but never this one. I've heard about it though... it managed to even reach where I grew up." She comments in a happy tone.

Kohnner rests his slight under bite as the racers announce themselves. That jaw unhinges slightly as Yan makes his introduction. "Yeah... going to be a betting kind of day," Say the Klatooinian to himself, turning to make his way towards the betting booth to put down a modest sum on the Harry and Short pod racer brave enough to cycle through today's events.

However, there was a feeling the Canine couldn't shake. Like there was someone close to him, or someone he was supposed to meet here. He bugged him so much he looked into the crowded stands but didn't see what he was looking for.

Instead he doubled down on making his bet for the day.

Vega looks down to her feet when a pair of goggles land there and she sees Zhu Yan crowing about something. She picks them up and wanders over to Zhu when he's done introducing himself, "You dropped these." the Echani tells him before she wanders back towards the mechanics spot.

There is a little holodroid that putters it's way out onto the race course with the start flag. It's waiting for its moment to shine! No it's not, it is just programmed to do that! Once the sign to go is given the racers are able to dart off at a nice clip!

Zhu Yan is able to pull out at a startling jump ahead of this race, followed by Kin-Li, Mandl, Nerys, Kael and Kalys coming up the back of the pack!

As the racers were given the nod to start, nerys began as she meant to go on, the pod racer charging out of the starting spot that had been selected for her and she went high, getting as much air as possible, both to make sure that 1: she was easy to see on the holocams, and 2: she could get a good look at the terrain ahead. A certain Dug was not racing, so, she didn't have to look out for ways to make sure he ran afoul of the courses many obstacles. The other racers, well, Nerys didn't bother with any of them. It was still the dawning of the race. Now it was a race to make up as much distance as possible away from the start as she hit the accelerator, darting down into Mushroom mesa, her pod racer screaming through the weather beaten stone, moving with the tight control nerys had on the controls. It was a feature, not an option. A rev, extra hard to echo through the features as she swung right into Crater valley, pod skimming low along the ground. Can't show an explorer a creater and not expect her to look down to spot treasure. That was what the droid was gorn, as Bitty's head was on a literal swivel, before the pair lifted back up, moving to skim the sides of Beggar's Canyon as she moved to jockey for position and make up speed to catch up with the current race leader.

The twin sticks of the J1210 were similar to that of the Redline's controls, or more notably, the yoke of a TIE Fighter. A slight difference in positioning but otherwise the same Hands-On-Stick-And-Stick setup that provided control by regulating each engine independently. Let's not ruminate on this too much, because that might ask questions as to /how/ Zhu Yan was able to fly a podracer he'd only just gotten so gosh-danged well.

The smuggler fired off the starting line like a fart in the wind, so it was very lucky he'd scooped up and shook out his goggles before he re-mounted! "OH YEAH! WE'RE ON THIS! LET'S GO LET'S GO LET'S GO!" Mushrooms! Yan hated them. Navigating them wasn't too bad and the craters were a cinch. But Beggar's Canyon, oy, Yan had to throttle back a little bit to make sure he didn't splat the wall. Mainly because he was coughing up the dust from talking while driving!

The lil' moisture farmer that can't hammers home the throttle and a steady whining drawl sends the pod shuddering groundwards with a delightfully awful thud. And off go the other racers! Their swoops powering away, leaving a haze of sand and dust in their wake! Oh with a well timed thump, and a kick, the pod-racer stutters and whines back into some semblance of functionality, judders, makes a rather displeasing noise as it belches some measure of black smoke, and then off it jolts! She's off! Following up behind the pack! Giving it her all as various parts keep attempting to fail or fall off. Yeah, this sounded like a great idea as they sat drinking Tatooine Sunburn's a few nights previous. Even sobriety didn't cure them of fulfilling this idea! Down the Mushroom Mesa! The engines whining! Yeah, they don't sound good. And then slow. Steady. And rather skillfully... kinda... through Crater Valley! Not a thing hit! And then managing to clip a rock in Beggar's Canyon, the battered pod spins violently, somehow proving that metal can flail and smoke, and make an awful grinding noise of impending doom as Kalys clings on for dear life while righting the spin from a death flail into a dizzying dance in the right direction.

Kin-Li Kel's face, if it could be seen behind the reflective visor, would be a sweat-steaked mask of focus and concentration. He drops the hammer as the pack comes out of the first few turns, he realizes a couple of things. First, he's not dead. Second, he didn't get overwhelmed and passed going into T1.

Dropping his head, he checks the mirrors, pouring on the speed as best he can down the straight. Sand blasts up into the air in his wake, and his eyes flick to the tell-tales. Too early for anything other than focus, and his hands are full with this thing, a pod he's never even flown before. Despite that, he edges into a battle for 2nd and 3rd.

The pod containing Kael darts forward with alarming speed... Well for the person driving the pod racer maybe not for most anybody else involved in the race although as he leaves the starting area he cackles a bit then tries to focus in on the race zipping through the Mushroom Mesa he weaves about and when he gets to the Crater Valley he doesn't get as close as Nerys did to that drop but does take a quick look around at the other racers before lining up Beggar's Canyon so he doesn't end up a splatter on the wall instead.

Kin-Li among those racing has taken this Mandalorian's interest, having caught the other's name when the droid went around getting names and faces right before the race started. Now they zipping off and starting to dodge obsticles, things are starting to get more interesting. But the race isn't entirely why he's here.

Some few faces are noted in the stands. Red armor up there that looks familiar is zoomed in on with his helmet's optics. Hahtavi sees Caius of all people, then spots Migs. The Kora keeps on scanning the crowd.

Wait. Something lights up on his heads up display for his attention inside of his helmet. The water bottle is set down. He starts moving, tracking on something as the Mandalorian begins to make his way through the aisle, heading westwards and then starting up through the stands. He goes a little ways then stops, using his helmet's optics to get a better look at something.

Who can tell what? With a 360 degree view, the Kora could be viewing something behind him. Or pulled up a porn feed for entertainment.

Uutkit's clan has spotters and salvage crews dotted around the track, in case someone has an accident.. like slamming into a wall or, missing a turn entirely. But since the racers are off on the track, Uutkit keeps one eye on the monitors tracking their progress. The Trader shuffles to his folding seat, plopping down before picking out his pipe, tucking the stem into the shadowy-recess of his hood, producing a small lighter to light his pipe, puffing quietly. The smoke emerges from his hood with a relaxed exhale, time to wait!

A thin, red brow arches, wrinkling his forehead into ridges of confusion that then fade with a shrug. "Not enough meat on it anyways. Hey. Does it eat meat?" The bottle of lum is tucked unceremoniously between his thighs, held there in a pinch of protection, so that Migs can bringing around his sausage-in-a-bun; waggling it in the pair's direction. "Least I think it's meat. Guy said it was meat, but he said it in that tone where you can hear the question mark at the end, ya know? But ya only live once and hey, if you're lucky it ain't for long." Judging by the crow's feet he's sporting, Migs has been unlucky for a few extra decades.

The race does steal his attention a moment: enough to see Yan taking an early lead. The handful of sausage-and-bun is jerked towards the screens that follow the racers as he angrily bellows: "Are ya kiddin' me?! That paunchy hutt-suckah is gonna cost me a week's wages! Get the lead outta yer pods!"

The accent comes stronger when he's yelling.

Migs, who had lurched forward in his flash of ire, flops back against his seat and looks back towards the green man and his bird friend. "Name's Mayfeld. Your bird want sausage?"

Caius is sipping on a big cup of what seems to be a sweetened drink now - likely swiped from yet another sentient - because he's more animated this time around. "Come on, Kel!", he calls out, edging out on his seat to watch his swoop closely as he follows behind Zhu. "Don't let that jester show ya up!", he demands, his voice soaring above the local susurrus. Probably because he's cowed his immediate vicinity into a susurrus.

The little boy with Rey puts his goggles on and points at Zhu Yan on the big screen. He's cheering for Zhu while the little girl rolls her eyes and boos. Boos Zhu.

Rey just grins at them while sipping her drink and watching the race. The hot desert winds streaking some of her loose dark hair across her face as she raises a hand up to stroke the loose locks back behind one of her ears.

Guests seen to, Shimmer takes a moment to coordinate a few of the wait staff before going to the head bartender and handing over the keys to the special box in the back. "This is... Your test. Increased responsiblity, increased pay. Anything's missing at the end of the night, though..." The Firrerreo shakes his head. He's not going to fire someone, but he certainly will hold back a promotion. The VIP section fully managed and couriers streaming in to bring fresh deliveries of the catered goods - noodles and sides from the Meltdown supplementing the specialty pieces - gives Shimmer the breathing room to take up a seat of his own near the front.

He softly claps for each racer announced in turn, though he winces at the roar of the crowd. He looks up to the view screens, thinking he might recognize the Bith from a dance contest or two back on Nar Shaddaa. The roars of pods firing and leaping from the starting line have Shimmer covering his ears until the action moves away from the physical starting line. Then his mismatched eyes are glued to one of the several viewing screens distributed through the VIP tent.

Mandl's journey from the start through Beggar's Canyon is swift, albeit blurry-- any slurred Bith profanity is lost to the wind as their racer slides ably through dune and dale, avoiding large rock outcroppings with a veteran racer's surety. Whatever they're processing behind that helmet, those lights are flickering like mad!

"They eat fish and bugs, I know f'certain, 'sides seeds. I haven't really tried aught else. In case they have dietary issues." The little avian utilizes Migs's distraction, and Qutha's when the Zelosian's attention returns to the race to lean forward and acquire this new food article. Pulling it from the bun and sitting back in its seat to be found chewing with even bigger eyes when the bald man addresses them.

Looking down, the farmer nods to the bun and then the bird, before looking the elder man in the face, "It'd be apparent they's keen to try a little for themselves." looking reproachfully down at the little avian that looks back and forth between man and plant man, the sausage half out of their stubby, muzzle like, beak.

"Mmmuuufhphk..."

"You can call me Qutha Pah, a pleasure to meet you - even if such is not found onna return, due'n to likely circm'stace n'all." head ducking slightly."

"Five Hundred, that's all I got." Kohnner firmly states as he argues with the betting attendant who wasn't very happy he was making a late bet and of course was trying to up charge him because of that fact. The ticket is printed out and none the less he Klatooinian's bet is placed. He turns around to face the crowds once more, looking to the big screen to see the progress of the race. So far it seems he had made a good pick. However there was a reason the young Canine didn't bet much. He had seen too many loose their lives over it as he served the Hutts... and too many times loose everything in the last moment.

However that strange feeling was there. An edginess any warrior wouldn't like. Not necessarily a threat but certainly that feeling that he was overlooking something that was important. Blue eyes scanned the crowd once more until they stopped upon Rey. Something happened in that moment as he stared at her. Then without much more preamble, moved to make his lumbering way up the stadium stares towards her and the kids.

Well, that's escalated quickly! One of the smaller racers dives off course before the even make it to the Desert Plain! The racers will be going through the Desert Plain, The Whip and Laguna Cave in this portion of the race and coming out of the turn it is Mandl that zips into first place, followed closely by Nerys. Kin-Li, Kael and Zhu are keeping up a good pace though! And Kalys, well, Kalys hasn't eaten the course wall yet like some others have. So she's doing great!

Nerys, had she been closer to Mandl, who was her OG racing buddy, might have reached out to slap a hand, assuming the Bith would have released a hand from the controls of his podracer, which zoomed past her like a blaster bolt. Bitty, though, had both hands free, and threw them both up, though it had the effect of making Nerys look, if one could see her from the front, as she scoured her way along the Desert Plain, like some odd bird with raggedy antennae. Making wiggle fingers to the other racers. Don't judge, Bitty worked out. Truth. But then the were gone, dust picking up in their wake as they slammed down into the whip, the pod barely keeping to the edges of the curves as she used the drag to help her make up time and prep her for entry into the Laguna Cave, again revving that engine, echoing the sound of acceleration. What did she care? She had a helmet on.

"Sithspit! Fruitcake!" And assorted other swear words were flowing from the mouth of Zhu Yan as he got bloody /lapped/ in Beggar's Canyon. This was followed by "*HACK* *COUGH* *SPHT*" as he opened his mouth while he was driving /again/. If Zhu Yan ever learned, he would no longer be Zhu Yan.

There's a particular Duros in the stands, watching the races and in the company of a Twi'lek male with and odd shade of sort of burgundy skin that happens to have some pale scarification marks on his lekku as well as darker markings. The two seem to be speaking low and keeping an eye on the crowd as much as they are watching the races. A datachit is handed off from the Twi'lek to the Duros.

Standing still and at a little distance above them, higher in the stands and to one side, Hahtavi reaches a hand to his belt and draws his stun baton. The armored Mandalorian starts to move in, carefully making his way past people as he descends a few steps, then begins to make his way across. Still on a bit higher row. The two his T-visor is facing don't seem to have noticed him yet.

Patiently, patiently, the Mandalorian eases though, past people without saying a word of apology. The stun baton is held low by his leg, easy to miss. Finally, his vocoder coms on, <"Alask Xiaan, you are wanted in multiple systems for trafficing in minors, two counts of murder...">

Hahtavi gets no further than that. The Duros and the Twi'lek both turn sharply, and then the Twi'lek male dives for a lower bench in the stands, pushing people away as he tries to force is way through the crowd! The Duros looks to pull a weapon, but the Kora lifts the stun baton and smacks him up side the head with a very audible THWAK to any near by!

The Desert Plain! Across the sands! Zipping, skimming close and jolting over a few bumps here and there! Kalys takes but a moment to adjust her goggles, this was a wildly bad idea. But damn it's a thrill. Sure she could die and that would mean the last remaining Remshi of Tatooine is dead. Though as deaths go, this wouldn't be of natural causes like all the others, this would likely be a glorious ball of flame and twisted wreckage. Kalys pales, as much as any Tatween native can. Into her comm she mutters darkly as she swerves into The Whip. "This. Was. Such. A. Bad. Idea!" The pit crew agree one after the other. Hugging the curves of the Whip, almost, almost, almost! And then Laguna Cave. Oh this could be it, the machine sends sparks in its wake as the port-side propellant grates against the wall! Panels are flung wildly in Kalys' wake, smoke belches, and the grating curve sends up a screeching rend of metal and parts as she fights her controls so, grip on the throttle white-knuckled! Teeth gritted. Curses muffled.

Rey and the children are watching the race intently as the dangers present themselves to the racers. Its a harrowing affair really, especially at the speeds they're going at... but such is the way of galactic sports. She doesn't notice Kohnner getting closer, and is in fact looking away from him at the commotion not too far away by a Mando in the crowd... Wherever Mandos are, it seems trouble breaks out.

"Careful." Rey comments quietly to the children, putting an arm around the little girl as she feels her lean against her. The little boy laughs and laughs, and laughs some more at the sight of it all though.

It's not that Kin-Li Kel is the fastest driver -- it is obvious to even unschooled fans watches the event that he is not. It is simply that his pod is fast, and he's not making any mistakes. He's conservative with his lines, he takes a tenth on entries to tidy up his lines, and when he puts the power down, he stays in it.

Fundamentals. They matter in any endeavour. He is not fast. But his fundamentals are sound and he was given a VERY fast machine. Because of that, he stays with the lead pack, they he slides into P3. His shoulders hunch as he tries to simply drive the pod. Just drive the pod. Just keep driving. P4. P5. He's just not fast enough.

Migs looks down at his now empty bun as if he cannot believe it. But believe it he does because this bird thing has his sausae in it's large, thieving mouth. "Really?" He is saying this directly to the bird as it gnaws on his lunch and makes muffled noises in his direction. "It this how my day is gonna go? Lose a buncha credits and get my meal stolen by a big-eyed vermin? Gimme that."

With a grab and a twist, Migs tears off the bottom half that hasn't reached the animal's maw yet and stuffs it back into the bun. "There. It's call sharin'." A chomp of his own followed by a swig of booze to help it all go down, Migs gestures to the screens. "Can y you believe this? They're all drivin' too good. Who pays to see people drivin' good?" A one-shouldered shrug. "Eh. Still somethin' to do. Speaking of, what is you---"

And somewhere nearby there is a Mando a'huntin' and Migs' body language is all tension and frowns. "Aw, hell. Mandos. Things are about to hit the damn turbine." Which is code for: 'I'm about to head the heck out of here.'

Caius had turned his attention elsewhere, hyperactive as he seemingly is - but not towards any action at the stands, no, but at the sputtering bucket of bolts that Kalys has as her swoop. He's visibly moved into silence for a beat there... before he breaks out into boisterous laughter. He's even pointing at it, if he wasn't making clear what he was laughing at. The sentients around him shift away, consciously and not.

Caius fails to notice the commotion at the lower stands, but he'd probably be laughing his ass off at that, too. Good enough a distraction from his orbak in the race slipping a few paces back.

Kael's bringing the pod racer through the Desert Plain punching the throttle hard as he tries to keep up with the other racers and then as he starts to push towards The Whip he shakes his head a bit to throttle down this section causing him pause before he gets back into the swing of the track and he punches it back through weaving throughout the Laguna Cave keeping up with the main portion of the pack. But with his current luck he's not going to hold it for long.

Looking up when Migs notes mandos, eyes wide and the creature in his lap swallowing down the rest of the sausage before flopping back, dozing in his lap. "Well, they're not coming this way at the very least." Qutha notes, brows knit and looking down at the now very full bird creature emitting a tiny burp before it waggles in for comfort.

"Terribly sorry that they robbed you as t'were." lips pressing into a line before a small pouch is taken from his belt, a few thin bars drawn out and casually set on Mig's thigh while he is still seated, "That, I hope'd be 'nuff t'make up for it, frizzle lunch, decent dinner eh?" brows lofting slightly and his hands going to rest on either side of thiefbird

Mandl *CAVE*WHIP*WALL*BACKINTOTHEWHIPALITTLE*WALLWALLCAVEWALL.* Twist, turn, buck, punch! Streaking forward they adjust with matchless precision, leading by 'the example of not dying in an oily fireball in the accursed desert,' as one does!

It might have been amusing watching the large Klatooinian shuffle his way through the crowded stands in the row just behind Rey and the children after limping his way up the stairs. "Excuse me... so sorry... apologies." Said the Canine in his rumbling deep voice expected of someone of his species, his tongue getting caught up on his sharp teeth and causing a bit of a lisp.

Finally he squeezed himself between a Twi'lek and a Sulustian, a rather tight spot to be. He towered over both of them. The Mandalorian off in the distance causing trouble caught his eyes a moment but the threat, if there was one, was distant at the moment and he was confident in his ability to react in time should harm come to those near him.

Clearing his throat, he speaks sort in a hushed tone, which is a bit hard for him given his rumbling voice, leaning forwards towards Rey. "Miss... Excuse me. Beg you pardon. I have something for you."

Nora Frayus is fashionably late to the Boonta Eve Classic, as she is to most things. And, keeping with tradition, she's come underdressed. Not underdressed in terms of pomp and flair -- no. This bespoke dress has been painstakingly custom-tailored for her on Delaya. She's under-dressed because, well. This is Tatooine. There's sand everywhere, and there are two suns, and she's -peachy white-. Poor Nora already looks a bit uncomfortable as she comes to rest down on one of the bleachers. When she sits, she folds her dress against the backs of her thighs and feels the crunch of sand beneath her butt. Her brow twitches, she stands, dusts herself off, dusts the seat off, and sits down with a bit more annoyance on her face.

Her freckles have already started to pop out, though they may soon be obscured by a sun burn. She huffs and glances down at her feet. High heels. Trudging through sand was not fun. She tips her foot to the side and some more sand falls out of that heel and she gives an irritated: "UGH!"

"...It really does get everywhere," she whines. A glance is spared towards Qutha. She slow blinks, and then sneezes.

The pistol the Duros drew to start firing in the crowd gets dropped almost at once. Getting slugged in the side of his big head with a stun baton drops him between the bleacher seats. If he's not unconscious, he's not eager to get up and interfer with the armored Mandalorian, either.

Hahtavi fires off his jetpack and pops up into the air! Not far though. The Mando lands in the aisle just below where the burgundy skinned Twi'lek is just reaching. 'Alask Xiaan' stops suddenly, mouth hanging open. "I'm innocent! Falsely charged! I swear!" He puts up both hands - empty.

Stun baton crackling softly, the Kora faces him, <"Then come along quietly. Submit and you will have a fair trial. Run, and I will drop you."> The stun baton is raised threatenly. All around them people are scooting away from the Bounty Hunter and the Twi'lek, some jeering, some laying bets, some trying to watch the races.

Rey turns around at the sound of a voice speaking to her. She peers at the person behind her, as do the two children with her. The little boy reaches for a toy blaster pistol that is tied to his belt with a little leather strap. He eyes Kohnner just as questioningly as Rey does. "Hello." Rey says softly to Kohnner though. "What is that you mean?" She asks then while the noises of the crowd are ever-present and rather loud!

Shimmer is oblivious to the disturbance happening lower in the stands, turned to the side and watching the screen rather than seeing the crowd outside of the VIP. A small clatter of glasses behind draws his attention as one of the VIPs has kicked a server away, tumbling glass and wasted alcohol spilling along the canopy-shaded floor. The Firrerreo is up in a flash, making his was to the fallen server, snapping fingers at one of the others and directing them to quickly get back to the VIP as he saw to the fallen Human. Red blood mixes with the glass and alcohol. "To the bar," he says lowly, helping her to rise and taking her over to the medkit he keeps on hand. Mismatched eyes flick over to the VIPs, but he keeps his focus on the server's hand.

An eye glances back towards the Mandalorian and their attempt at capturing a bounty. He sighs slightly before looking back to Rey and the Children. With a nod, Kohnner leans back and reaches a clawed and bulky hand into one of the carrying pouches of his new shiny armor. He then pulls out a busted pair of solar shades. The kind with thick black rims and mirrored lenses. "This..." He says to the Jedi Paragon, handing it towards her. "Over a year ago. Someone like you helped me realize some things on Yelesia. Saved me maybe. He was in rough shape at the time. I don't know what happened to him. He left these behind though." There was scratches all over the lenses and the arms to hold them in place on one's face were hanging on by a thread. Rough shape was an understatement.

Already gathering up what remains of his lum and tucking the unopened bottles to the inside of his vest, Migs glances down to the chits resting on his thigh. A quick assessment gives him the value that has just been handed to him. With fingerless gloves, Migs grabs the offered credits and tucks them away into his vest, as well. Only when his hand emerges, some are still remaining. "It's a sausage in a bun. Hardly worth that much. Here."

Three-quarters of what Qu'tha had given him is returned with a click of his tongue and the bald man rises. "I don't leave behind debts, ya know? Besides, it was entertainin'. Been around a lot of places and can't say I've seen somethin' like that before. Reminds me of this little green guy I met..." His voice trails off a little, eyes growing distant then immediately snapping back to the present. "Forget it. Anyways, was good to meet ya. See ya around if you're hanging on this dustball. You need a gun for somethin', you can find me at the hotel slummin' it up."

And with that, Migs makes good on his unspoken 'get outta here' and does just that.

The trip through Laguna Cave doesn't spare anyone really and another exits out of the race unceremoniously as one of their engines just drop out of the pod, damaging another ship on the way down. That leaves the next branch of the race to be head. Through the Canyon Dune Turn, Bindy Bend and the Coil...this was sure to lose them a few more racers. Sadly!

Uutkit is still relaxing near the start line. There's a bit of a frown when he suddenly chitters to himself, "apywootierh! tearh duthaghizi iekoove as ghevaethie pu zaru!" he laughs, shaking his head as he stands up. His pipe is shaken out, the Jawa going about folding up his chair, gathering his other belongings before wandering towards the Finish line. Most of his clanmates are otherwise occupied, of course, cleaning up the wreckage of crashed racers. There'll be a HUGE increase in inventory after today! [Language: Jawa_Trade]

Rey watches Kohnner closely, while the two children with her are somewhat looking between them and the race. When the item is offered, Rey looks down to them, before she reaches out and accepts the damaged item. She draws in a breath then through her nose before stroking some of her hair out of her eyes again. "I'm afraid that he's not found better luck since you saw him last." Rey says before she looks up to him then. "But we're hoping to change that soon. When we do..." She holds the glasses up a little. "I'll see to it these are repaired, and returned to him."

And with that Rey shows Kohnner a soft smile, and a little single nod.

Caius has obviously replaced his big cup of sweetened drink to a bottle of cheap whiskey, yet again swiped from an unsuspecting sentient too busy with the race. He was already red in the face from jeering at all the racers that crashed and burned, but now he's just outright tipsy. Not that that's a bad thing, as it seems it's sharpened his senses enough to finally spot the Mando and the commotion he's causing down there.

Caius starts jeering along with the crowd at the sentients Hahtavi is chasing. "Yeah, ya can do it! Stun-smack his freakin' arse!" What a lush.

Nora Frayus turns to look up at the viewscreens as the leaders are announced. A familiar face pops up in first, and her big blue eyes get a little wider. "Ohhh! It's the fat little man from the shock boxing tournament! Ahhh, how delightful, wait. I think I brought my hat," she says. She turns to begin digging inside of her bag that is entirely too large, given she'll only be at the race for the second half. But if she didn't bring such a big bag, she wouldn't be able to remove the 'Yan Fan' trucker cap and place it atop her immaculately straight hair. It's mostly white, thought he brim is hot pink, as well as the trim. It contains a cartoon caricature of Zhu Yan holding up a pair of shock-boxing gloves. Dukes up!

Nora tucks some of her hair from her face and turns to glance in Rey's direction. The familiar form of Kohnner is regarded a moment, but she looks away soon after.

There's a few seconds of tension - the Twi'lek 'Alask Xiaan' with his very unusual lekku markings looks like he might try to make a run for it. Hahtavi anticipates him and takes a single step sideways to cut him off even before the other shifts his weight to try.

"OK, ok, please don't hurt me. I'm really not the crimminal you think I am." Both hands are presented. The Mandalorian's baritone rumbles <"Turn around, lay down on the pavement face down and put your hands behind your back. Now."> The Twi'lek clearly doesn't want to but he's afraid. So he does as he's ordered, laying himself and his fancy robes face first down on the ground.

Hahtavi turns his helmet to be sure that Duros isn't getting back up to take a shot at him with all these people all around. The Duros seems to have had more sense and was moving off with a splitting headache to try and get the heck away. Fine. A moment later, the Mandalorian is using flex cuffs to bind the Twi'lek's hands, one armored knee pressed into his prisoner's back.

Within a couple more moments, Hahtavi gets Alask Xiaan back to his feet and starts walking his bounty for an exit peacefully enough. Nothing to see here.

They were all jockeying for position, Nerys not least of all as they racers charged out of the caves and into the Hands of Doom. "You can do better than that, Yan!" Yes, Nerys said that out loud, and low and behold, it seems that maybe it might work, as the Best Corellian (ask him to roll Bluff, I care ya!) zoomed past her. But they were not yet at the end, and into the worst possible scenario. An open stretch in a dangerous desert. Ah, well, she'd been here before. Got shot here before. Still managed to finish before. As her pod racer skimmed the desert hardpan, a few adjustments were made to cut on the fuel to the racer. She would need that for the final stretch. And then they were into the Bend, and if a podracer could bend, that was what Nerys was doing. Sign of the times. And then, Into the coil and she charged high, moving to try to beat the window whistling through the passes.

There is a sad sort of look in the eye of the Klatooinian. Something perhaps a bit more gentle or fragile than a tough warrior would put on. "Thank you, Miss. I am sorry to hear that. We didn't really exchange any words but... somehow... he made me realize what I had to do." He takes a breath and that tough aloof exterior returns. "Please let me know if you need any help with that. I do owe him after all." There is a pause as he rises, "Enjoy the rest of the race."

Kohnner looks to the Mandalorian who now seemingly has things under control before turning his gaze to the kids. He gives a bit of a wave with his clawed fingers to them and offers what ever might be considered a smile for the Canine before turning and shuffling his large frame out back towards the stairs. "Excuse me... so sorry... Oh no, I didn't mean to step on your seven toes... Please for give me..."

Emerging from the caves, Zhu Yan was driving (flying?) like a man possessed. And he was! Possessed by Ghoesfhast, the Seventh Circle Demon of SPEEEEEEED! The second the twisty-turnies opened up into a giant long bend, the pudgy egotist jammed the yoke forward for maximum engine power! The J-1210's engines screamed like they were being dipped in a vat of molten cheese and the gouts of flame ripping from the nozzles threatened to tear the little buzzy purple energy holding the two things apart. Yes! Unlimited power! Reality stretched, elongated, and the absolute madman let out a "HRRRRRRRRRNNNNNGGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG," as he felt himself being pulled into a million pieces.

Zhu Yan beheld eternity, and it told him he was God.

The rubber band snapped and the podracer went off like a proximity mine, shooting out ahead of the pack at speeds beyond absurd and somewhere into plaid. Meanwhile, potentially completely audible over the din was the mad pilot screaming "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," as only he could in his eloquent native language. The Canyon Bend was nothing. The Bindy Bend, Yan didn't even let off the afterburners. And he sneezed himself through the Coil and into the full flat expanse.

Kin-Li Kel continues falling further and further back as the race progresses. Again, there are no big mistakes, but he simply doesn't have the skill to run with the big dogs. Forget victory, he's lucky to still be able to see the lead group. How he reacts to this is impossible to see behind his mirrored visor. Whatever he is doing though is probably not the right thing. A thin stream of dark grey smoke begins trailing from the right engine.

He makes it through the Coil, but victory, alas, is out of reach.

Kael's still keeping this stupidly fast and idioticly powerful racer under control somehow as he zooms through Canyon Dune Turn before the... Why? Why so many bindy bendy twisty turny crash into the wally parts of this race? Kael looks at the various routes eyeing them as he zips in through them before the mighty coil and he just watches as he's left behind by Yan, "Well... That could have gone better."

Kalys' podracer began to sputter and list, that much-scraped and damaged repulsor finally beginning to fail. Smoke belches from its depths, and a flicker of oddly coloured fire ignites amidst the torn metal that has finally decided to just give up. The engine erupts with a gout of flame, pivots as that dead engine just slams into the ground, and sends that poor machine spinning wildly off the track. Kalys within hunkers down and grips tight as the forces almost fling the flame-haired farmer from the machine itself. Digging a gouge into the ground off the side of the track before finally coming to a dead halt. The pilot? For a moment or two just hunched over the controls as that fire engulfs the dead and now defunct engine. "Fark!" A dazed blink, and Kalys pushes up and out of the junk pile, staggers drunkenly for a few dizzying steps, collapses to her knees, and then pushes up and away to safety as the pod-racer that was, and finally isn't. Dazed, bruised, brow bleeding, and yet even still, the flame-haired farmer is grinning ear to ear as she finally turns the nearest holocamera and punches the sky with both hands as she hoarsely announces. "I'm farking alive!" The pit crew way back at the start hollar! Hollar!

Migs has fled and Qutha himself is standing with the porg in his lap being tucked into his coat once it's put on. "We y'ump too git back to the ship, and make sure that's not going to mess y'up l'l guy." shaking his head as he gets himself put together. Wading down through the crowds while angling to make his way past Rey, putting a hand briefly on her shoulder whilst he saunters along - managing to nip through the crowd like doing so was second nature to him.

The same path angling to pass Nora next, offering her a small nod and placing a small sphere of stone into her hand, "Got that while hep'n out some locals tryina git seed t'growin' import soil. S'geode. Ifn' y'crack it in half, they's a light show'a crystals on the inside f'm." nodding at his bizarre little gift giving, "Don' let the suns bake that pretty face f'yers, Ma'am. Don think this kinda 'nvironmenned' agree with you." bobbing his head and continuing on, walking with the little bird head popping out of his coat collar to look at Nora as they go,

"Bu-woowaaaawk"

Mandl gradually loses the lead to Zhu Yan's hubris, which truly we all lag behind. Nerys, too, makes up ground while the Best in the Bithness hangs a little too wide on those curves, costing them precious degrees-of-arc and microseconds on the straightaways!

As Kalys's racer settles and she escapes... the little robed figures are already moving in! "apywootierh!" one exclaims, bending down to begin picking up pieces of her ship and tucking them into a little satchel at his side. "if gafoonu! eavi!" the Jawa shuffles forward, more of his jabbering compatriots moving in to begin scavenging the wreck.

Uutkit is still back at the finish line though! [Language: Jawa_Trade]

"Fark!", Caius parrots as Kalys' bucket of bolts becomes exactly that, his hands gesturing upwards in astonishment. "Wasted! Decent attempt.", he exclaims mostly to himself before taking another swig of his bottle. The sentients around him are trying to avoid him even more at this point. Not that he cares.

Nora blinks curiously up towards Qutha when he hands her the geode, a curious tip of her head to the side when she glances down to its smooth, round surface. "A gee-what?" she murmurs curiously, and twists that stone back and forth before letting it settle atop her lap, right in the valley of her thighs. His comment about the sun baking her face makes her selfconsciously pull the brim of her hat down a little further, casting a long enough shadow to get at least three quarters of her face covered from those twin suns. For now.

"Farewell, Qutha. Thank you for the geode. I will be sure to, ah. Crack it open soon," she says. What is it with Jedi and crystals, anyway? She lets her hand drift back into her bag again and this time, she retrieves a pretty little blue stone that's been tucked safely away within. She holds that in her palm now and gives it a curious expression before closing her hand around it.

It's the last two turns of the race. The Devil's Doorknob has been known to wreck pods and worse, kill racers. So it is not a turn to take lightly! Though some do. Once through there it is across the Hutt Flats and towards the finish line. Things are so close! It's nailbiting on who might win!

Were they really tempting fate? All that tech, all those bodies, out in the open like that? Just ripe for an attack from on high? Well, yes, probably. It was all a conspiracy between the Tuskens and the Jawas, mark her words. But, Nerys only kept her head down, jamming her way out of the Coil into the curving Straightaway of the Devil's Doorknob, hoping, as she swung wide and into the open that she would not be the one ringing the bell, as the racers, less a few but still a target rich environment screamed across the sands and headed for the Hutt Flats. Peppered with, surprisingly, many less Hutts than one might like, meaning none. Not even a Huttlet to be snatched and grabbed. Don't ask. Just know this was a sad day in the life of Nerys Greystorm.

BUT! Look on the bright side. Nerys wasn't dead. And they were into the final stretch, still screaming along the course towards the finish line. Not first, but, hey, with a view of the winner like that, Nerys would take it. JU CY. Just kidding. But she would still take it.

"NRRRRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHHHH!" was about all of the intelligent conversation that could be wrung out of Yan right now. It was a profound miracle that, as a plain jane human with only a couple of bits of cyber to his name, his face hadn't fracking melted off from sheer speed. It's the gif, you know the gif. The smuggler had slipped beyond the mortal coil and was entering some sort of mystical alternate dimension of pure speed where light fractured and fractalled and reality spooled like cheap thread and noises were edible and scents swore in Huttese, and the only thing he could say was "I'M GONNA WIN I'M GONNA WIN I'M GONNA WIN".

Or maybe he was having a stroke.

Either way J-1210 with the pilot holding on for /dear life/ crossed the finish line and, when the throttle was eased off, frankly groaned into silence. Fractals became shapes became light became Tatooine and Yan's vision returned to something resembling normality. Then he spat a metric kilo of sand from his mouth. Not to be outdone, the left engine of the J-1210 collapsed to the ground and the fizzy purple connector broke, the engine disassembling itself messily into easily-sold spare parts. The right one just jammed itself in by the prongs. The short fat man, back in reality, leapt from the cockpit, tripped over his feet, and faceplanted into the ground like the superhero he was. He was back on his feet in a flash, pumping his fists into the sky, screaming "YES. YES. YES. YES. YES." There were no signs of stopping.

Kin-Li Kel's 'little' engine problem turns into a fiasco by the time he comes around the final stretch. The thin stream of grey smoke has become a billowing smokescreen obscuring the desert behind him. The comm link between the driver and his team is probably not a fun place. "23,000! /23,000!!!!!!/ CAN"T YOU READ A FRAKKIN GAUGE?!"

He nurses the machine over the line, parks it on the far side.....then, oddly, simply shuts down right there, and hops out. Oddly, he reaches under his pilot's outfit, and withdraws what looks like a tiny little palm-sized blaster. Blaster bolts ring out as he shoots the dashboard over and over again in what appears to be angry frustration. And, then, he simply turns ands walks out of the arena.

Mandl hurtles across the finish in third, albeit in one piece and driving a pod *also mostly in one piece,* shut up sparks don't count? They dismount before anything, say, bursts into flame?

"Aww!", Caius exclaims again when Kin-Li starts Kylo-raging on his swoop's dashboard. He doesn't /feel/ the 'aww', though, as he's giddy at the violence of it all. Doesn't even seem to care who won, really, though he's clapping his padded hands together all the same. Probably at the violence.

Kael's not going to give up thte end is riiiight there he punches the throttle forward as they close in on the finish line... But it just wasn't enough to even remotely catch up with the leaders as he brings in a solid fourth place finish he pulls over towards pit row and pops up onto the back end of the seat to give the winners a cheer as they do their little victory celebration before the Pit Droids came over to start taking care of the racer and the tall man hops off to walk over towards Nerys as the blaster bolts start to fire into one of the pods, his hand darting down instinctively before a shake of his head and then back towards the task at hand.

Having bandaged up enough to ensure that there wouldn't be any extra trouble before he could get the server to a professional, Shimmer leads her by the shoulder to his own seat, gesturing and nodding more than once as he insists that she take his spot. His own duties are to protect his people so he puts on an apron and takes his own turn conveying drinks, fetching treats and batting eyes at the powerful, the rich, and both.

The human server claps excitedly as the noise picks up, with swoops coming up on the final stretch back to the arena. Her claps are quickly checked by the red-marked bandage, so she calls out, voice drowned out by the crowd noise and not drawing undue attention in the VIP section. The wildman seems to have fallen into first place through sheer grit, much as he fell out of his pod when all was said and done. Even the afterward is entertaining, and it's not bad when you're getting paid to watch! Shimmer takes a moment to join in polite applause when the VIP's go about congratulating the winners, but his job is far from over, unlike the race.

Kalys finds a nice little spot by the side of the track, warmed by the twin suns above and the flaming wreckage of her podracer. Sitting down, stretching out, aching. And grinning. There'll be time to get a lift back to the start later. For now? She rests. Same time again next year? They'll need more tatooine Sunburn.

Kohnner limps down the stairs back towards the railing. However, he only makes it half way before he stops and looks towards the large viewer where Yan slides into first and winds first. As the crowd stand and cheers around him. He simply blinks.

The one time he bet... he won? Interesting.

Zhu is showered with attention...and credits! Paraded around given he is the winner of this big show. He really doesn't have a choice. There's photos to take and all of that business. The other racers are paid out and marked down. Another Boonta Eve Classic in the books and hopefully another would be had next year!

Uutkit waits for the racers to finish before getting to work! There was all the time his clan spent setting up, and now that the race is over, the scavenging can begin! The dutiful little Jawas slip away from the stands silently, dragging their repulsor-sleds out onto the track to begin picking up the pieces.