Populate [Black Sun] Shut Up and Drive || BSS Populate of Celegia

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mauve du Vain //: Velzari Tharn
//: Attire //:

The smoke lingered in the viewing box. She wasn't one to partake, but she didn't mind the others doing as they do. Her mind wasn't focused; it lingered, wandering and searching the space around them. Watching the shot that rang from the unknown gun hit Mauve was a sight Quinn would never forget. As much as her eyes told her that the Zeltron was gone, the Force said otherwise. Her distracted attention caused a lucky grunt to get a hit on her. Thankfully, the weapon was nothing like she had taken before, weak and pathetic — much like the Republic.

She shifted in her seat; the tiny vile she had brought to Velzari's attention once before rested in a small pouch in her pocket. They had matters to discuss, ones that would only strengthen the ties between Black Sun and the Sith. She needed to focus there; Quinn knew that the relationship between the two would only benefit them. But her mind lingered; nothing she did could gather enough information for her to rescue Mauve, nor did any semblance of pay sway the Republic.

The Princess had finally found something she couldn't fix.

Suddenly, it was as if the galaxy had answered her prayers or possibly her fears.

A few exchanged words instantly caught the Echani's attention. It seemed the Republic had finally decided what to do with the woman. Quinn said nothing, simply watching as the Underlord addressed the situation. She knew the Chancellor had been taken — she had been part of that attack — but she did not see how the woman had been treated since.

A slight pang of guilt twisted in her gut. The Chancellor had nothing to do with her vendetta against the Republic, and knowing she had likely been chained and treated worse than scum bothered her. Quinn didn't allow that guilt to crack her composure. To anyone in the room, she remained a silent observer, absorbing the tension between the Prince and his entourage.

The Chancellor mattered little to her; it was the Vigo who twisted something in Quinn's chest. She glanced toward Velzari, questioning how much he really knew about the woman he'd put above her. Did he know how often they had tangled themselves together? How many breathless, whispered exchanges had they shared?

Her jaw tightened at his laughter; it almost felt as if he were enjoying this.

But this is what she signed up for when dealing with the Syndicate. She wanted to scream, to turn everyone here into mindless drones that bent to her will through the Force — if all of that just got Mauve back in one piece, safe and sound. Quinn closed her eyes and sighed softly, now wasn't the time — she needed to let this play out.

"The Republic is bold to assume such an exchange will go in their favor," she smiled, as her hand fell from her face. It was a practice smile, one she gave through frustration and annoyance.

 

[Vashra Foss]

Finon finally noticed the man Vashra threatened and he just had to ask "Who is this?"

"Never mind him. Just my next paychek. Nosy slicer stuck nose where it didn´t belong and now someone wants to talk to him. The rest is confidential. You know the drill. No questions asked, just the goods delivered. "

BYOO was panicking. Had taken some time, Vashra had to gve him that.

"Look, this must all be a misunderstanding!" he yelped.

The knife pressed a tiny bit harder, reminding him not to move too much.

"I make a living with misunderstandings." Vashra cooed in his ear.

"I can pay you credits." BYOO tried the next predictable route.

"Yes, sure." Vashra answered mockingly, "You look exactly like a sucessful businessman. The only credits you can make around here belong to the Syndicate even before you touch them."

she looked quizically at Finon "What do you think. Shall we steal from the syndicate just to help this poor sob?"

Finon Nalle

 

[Finon Nalle]

Black Sun Syndicate
Objective 3: BYOO
​

Finon thought for a moment before answering. "Probably won't be the best for your reputation to just let him go." Credits weren't everything to Finon as they were to Vashra, but he would hate for her to potentially get a death-mark over helping a kid who got in way deeper than he bargained for. But he knew Vashra better than that, the boy wont see the next sunrise "Besides if your employer is willing to put a bounty on a nosy kid, then he certainly wont hesitate to put a bounty on you for letting their info continue to be at risk. But it's not really my place to tell you what to do with your bounty. But Finon knew that when it comes to credits or "feelings", Vashra would probably pick credits. "Well kid, what is your offer besides saying "I have credits!"" Finon said jokingly, full well knowing the poor guy is only trying to delay the inevitable.

Vashra Foss

 

[Vashra Foss]

Finon´s simple question derailed the guy, taking away what little composure he had left with Vashra´s sharp-edged friend pressed into his side.

"What else do you mean?" he stammered, "It´s all about credits, right?"

All high-tech, no nerves. Jitrtery all over. Maybe a university boy who went slumming. Definitely no street brat. Cute:

She slid her free hand under his desert cloak, retrieved a nice little holdout blaster, nasty little bug at close range.

"Look boy, you don´t even get it when we make fun of you." Vashra said while the blaster disappeared under her own coat, "Neither of us would be so dumb as to cheat the mob just to save your sorry hide. Let me guess. That attitude got you into the place where you are now."

"What´s going to happen is, you come with m,e on a little and meet someone who wants to talk to you. If you wise up in the meantime you may live through it. There is a chance for that because the client wants you warm. But warm doesn´t mean undamaged. So if you try to be funny I carve a few pieces out of you. You´ll still be functional but not happy."

She glanced at Finon; one eye always watching the slicers hands.

"More nerfs like him and we could make our money in our sleep…"


Finon Nalle

 

[Finon Nalle]

Black Sun Syndicate
Objective 3: BYOO
​

FInon could only chuckle as Vashra pointed out the kids... either naivety or stupidity, Finon couldn't quite tell, all he could do is bite into his gorg, and share some with the Massiff that was still sitting behind him. "I swear this is the stuff that makes some bounty hunters question their lives." Finon nodded to the captive man. "Anyways are you in a rush? I was thinking we can stun this bozo and throw him into your ships brig, and maybe watch the race together for old times sake. That and maybe catch up a bit, given it has been 3 years."

Vashra Foss

 

[Tales of the Underworld]

BLACK SUN SYNDICATE
BOONTA EVE CLASSIC

​

As the racers lined up on the track, the steady roar of the audience only grew. Some wanted a clean race to commemorate this annual event. Others wanted blood, carnage, and cheap tricks to keep them on the edge of their seats. Die-hard fans hoped their champions would win the cup, while knaves and gamblers held out for their cut of the winnings. Regardless of their ambitions, every voice in the crowd cheered for the exhilarating Boonta Eve Classic.

"Racers!" the announcer called, pulling eyes toward his booth near the top of the Mos Espa Grand Arena. "Ready your engines!"

In unison, pods roared to life. A thin alien woman with near-human features stood prominently in the center of the track, between rows of rumbling craft. She held a slugthrower in her hand.

"On your marks!"

She smiled, raising the pistol to the sky. Tatooine's twin suns reflected harshly off the metal barrel.

"Get set!"

Her finger wrapped around the trigger.

"GO, GO, GO!"

BANG! A shot rang out and neon lights flipped from red to green; the Boonta Eve Classic had begun.

Spoiler: Podrace Dice Rules

• The Boonta Eve Classic (902) is a single-lap race consisting of four legs
• Each leg, roll 1d6
  • If you're using Discord dice, please link a screenshot of your roll (or use the dice bot in the BSS server!)
  • If you're using Chaos dice, no need to link; we will see it at the bottom of your post
• The results of your rolls will be added together. The winner will be the racer with the highest total number at the end of the race
  • If there is a tie, a tiebreaker lap will take place (four more rolls) to determine the winner
• CHEATING: A racer may CHEAT by paying 5,000 UCs to First Bank of Nar Shaddaa - this enables you to add +2 to your final total
• SABOTAGE: A racer may SABOTAGE another racer by paying 10,000 UCs to First Bank of Nar Shaddaa - this enables you to -2 from an opponent's final total
• GRAND PRIZE: The winner will receive 50,000 UCs and x1 custom podracer/speeder/speederbike submission of unique quality, to be made by BSS staff

Spoiler: Racetrack

Spoiler: Racer Placements

Racer	Leg 1	Leg 2	Leg 3	Leg 4	Final Total
Das
Eaton Waters
Jericho Dragr
Kivah
Kurt Korrado
Ronhar Tane

Tags: Das | Eaton Waters | Jericho Dragr | Kivah | Kurt Korrado | Ronhar Tane​

 

[Vashra Foss]

Vashra smiled.

What was wrong with her that she actually cared about Finon´s company?

The butt of her knife hit the slicer in the temple so fast even Finon barely recognized the movement (which meant something) and so hard that the slicers eyes rolled inward and he was out cold.

Vashra caught the body as it went limp and looked around. Again, nobody paid attention. Just a human girl helping her friend who couldn´t stomach the heat or some illicit substance.

"It was a boring converstion anyway. Let me wrap up the package and then we watch the race."

 

[Rixa]

OBJECTIVE 3
Sahan Dragr Kinley Pryse

The crowd was a living tide of sound. Engines roared, bookies shouted odds. There were droids wheeling through the crowd that hawked drinks that probably violated at least three Republic laws.

Rixa slipped through it all and soaked it in. Hopefully her ship hadn't been tagged as a stolen or pirate vessel on the way down.

She was still getting accustomed to the heat and moved between the shadows as she found a spot to watch the race. There were plenty of dangerous people here, but when you looked as crazed as Rixa and had an actual sword on your hip, people gave you space.

A cheer thundered from the stands above as the lights went green and the podracer's engines launched them forwards.

She glanced around to see what people were selling to make the day more entertaining.

 

[Velzari Tharn]

BLACK SUN SYNDICATE
NO TAKESIES BACKSIES​

​

Quinn's words only widened the wolfish grin stretching across Velzari's face. His hunger for retribution had nearly eclipsed the princess from his awareness—nearly.

"And bolder still," he added, "to assume we drag our high-value prisoners to every backwater dustbowl we conduct business on. Idiotic is far more accurate." He scoffed, the sound echoing faintly against the stone. How these people had bested Black Sun on Wielu remained beyond him… though he reminded himself that the Republic of then had been far, far stronger than the Republic of now.

Power was draining from their territory like blood from a slit throat, seeping into neighboring systems with every passing cycle.

It wouldn't be long before Black Sun reclaimed what was owed.

But for now, they would settle for retrieving their wayward Vigo. The Republic diplomats entered almost on cue—a pair of stiff, overdressed functionaries who looked awkwardly juxtaposed amid the sandstone of the Mos Espa Grand Arena. Dust motes drifted lazily in the shafts of afternoon light behind them, landing on the edges of their pristine datapads—no doubt filled to the brim with the tedious formalities of a hostage exchange that was never going to happen.

Velzari rolled his eyes but let the moment pass without comment. Behind him, the room's occupants shifted into position. Half a dozen Black Sun Guard spread out along the walls, three flanking Velzari and three mirroring them behind the Republic's contingent. The arrangement penned everyone in, a lovely little corral of rivals and hostages.

Then came a Republic trooper ( Raylin Fall ), boots scraping grit across the stone floor as he stepped inside. Over his shoulder, Velzari caught sight of his prize: Mauve du Vain , hands secured in a pair of electro-cuffs. The sight pulled a slow smile from him; he always did enjoy watching his Vigos squirm, if only a little. Two more troopers followed behind her. When their white armor cleared the threshold, the door slid shut with a decisive thunk, sealing out the roar of the arena crowds.

A quiet, electric tension settled over the chamber.

It was time for some fun.

Tags: Mauve du Vain | Quinn Varanin | Raylin Fall​

 

[Finon Nalle]

Black Sun Syndicate
Objective 3: BYOO
​

"That's great! Do you want me to come with you or should I get us some seats?" Finon moved his leg slightly, bumping into the Massiff, still gnawing on the gorg that Finon gave it. all of a sudden the Massiff made a giant crunch cracking the gorg in half, with the bone still inside. After that, Finon knew exactly what to name the Massiff. "Cracker. I think after hearing that I am going to name you Cracker!" FInon realized people were basically tripping over themselves trying to get in "Never mind Vash, I think I am just going to save us seats." FInon started making it through the crowd with Cracker in tow. When he got into the arena he immediately saw three good seats in the middle row. "These will do nicely."

Vashra Foss

 

[Vashra Foss]

Only on Tatooine…

A blue-haired girl walks across town and carries an unconscious guy over her shoulder and nobody cares. Last time Mos Espa had seen something like a police force had been when Darth Vader was still building Death Stars. And the ordinary citizen was too busy trading contraband, slaves or spice.

The not so ordinary citizens – those wish a honest job – knew better than to get involved.

Besides, the race was almost on. They had better things to do.

So Vashra made it back to the docking bay of he Red Dagger undisturbed.

She didn´t have a prison cell or magnetic handcuffs, A discarded Bantha leash would have to do. Vashra tied BYOO into a nice package and stored him with the other supplies. When he woke up and started to whine again, Vashra knocked him out with her blaster butt and gagged him.

She would be missing the race because of him.

She made her way back to the track almost like a living racing pod

Finon really secured seats for himself, the Masiff and her.

"Cargo´s secured. I hope I´m still in time."

Finon Nalle

 

[Finon Nalle]

Black Sun Syndicate
Objective 3: BYOO
​

"Racers!" the announcer called, pulling eyes toward his booth near the top of the Mos Espa Grand Arena. "Ready your engines!"

Finon was starting to worry. Where could she be? But that thought vanished as Vashra appeared. Cracker seemed pretty happy, it has known her for only a few minutes, and it is already attached. "I started to think you left!" FInon said jokingly. The bounty that Vashra and Finon were screwing with was nowhere in sight. "So how have you been? I haven't seen you since my dad's funeral." It had been some time since then, but Finon still remembered the day his day died as if it had just happened. After years of thievery, and scamming, his luck finally ran out when someone he robbed had a blaster on them, and emptied the whole battery pack into him.

Vashra Foss

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

OBJECTIVE 3: BYOO

Kinley doesn't smuggle spice. Spice asks her if it can tag along.​

"I'll take the best you got. I'm sure you can put that to good use."

Kinley eyed the coin for a moment and smirked. That would do nicely. She slid it into her duster and pulled out a baggie of freshly crushed powder in a pale green color.

"Carsunum laced with Lesai. That will get you where you need to go my friend." She slid the bag over to him with a grin. She noticed a woman with a sword slide near them and grinned at her. "Interested in something a little faster than the race?"

As she spoke the racers took off and the crowd started to cheer, but Kinley only had eyes for potential customers today.





Tags: Sahan Dragr Rixa

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Vashra Foss]

"I´ve done some stuff for the syndicate" Vashra replied, "Some arms smuggling, spice, high tech. Some extractions too like today. Stayed away from Nar Shaddaa. I miss the swoop races though and your duels."

She kept it vague on purpose, no names, no locations. For his own safety too. Finon was the closest thing to a friend she had, who was still alive.

But maybe he had befriended a girl who never existed. He didn´t know how the Red Dagger had gotten its name. The less he knew the better for him.

Funny, she actually cared if he lived or died.

Finon Nalle

 

[Jericho Dragr]

​

OBJECTIVE 1:
BOONTA EVE CLASSIC

BLACK SUN SYNDICATE
BOONTA EVE CLASSIC

​

As the racers lined up on the track, the steady roar of the audience only grew. Some wanted a clean race to commemorate this annual event. Others wanted blood, carnage, and cheap tricks to keep them on the edge of their seats. Die-hard fans hoped their champions would win the cup, while knaves and gamblers held out for their cut of the winnings. Regardless of their ambitions, every voice in the crowd cheered for the exhilarating Boonta Eve Classic.

"Racers!" the announcer called, pulling eyes toward his booth near the top of the Mos Espa Grand Arena. "Ready your engines!"

In unison, pods roared to life. A thin alien woman with near-human features stood prominently in the center of the track, between rows of rumbling craft. She held a slugthrower in her hand.

"On your marks!"

She smiled, raising the pistol to the sky. Tatooine's twin suns reflected harshly off the metal barrel.

"Get set!"

Her finger wrapped around the trigger.

"GO, GO, GO!"

BANG! A shot rang out and neon lights flipped from red to green; the Boonta Eve Classic had begun.

Spoiler: Podrace Dice Rules

• The Boonta Eve Classic (902) is a single-lap race consisting of four legs
• Each leg, roll 1d6
  • If you're using Discord dice, please link a screenshot of your roll (or use the dice bot in the BSS server!)
  • If you're using Chaos dice, no need to link; we will see it at the bottom of your post
• The results of your rolls will be added together. The winner will be the racer with the highest total number at the end of the race
  • If there is a tie, a tiebreaker lap will take place (four more rolls) to determine the winner
• CHEATING: A racer may CHEAT by paying 5,000 UCs to First Bank of Nar Shaddaa - this enables you to add +2 to your final total
• SABOTAGE: A racer may SABOTAGE another racer by paying 10,000 UCs to First Bank of Nar Shaddaa - this enables you to -2 from an opponent's final total
• GRAND PRIZE: The winner will receive 50,000 UCs and x1 custom podracer/speeder/speederbike submission of unique quality, to be made by BSS staff

Spoiler: Racetrack

Spoiler: Racer Placements

Racer	Leg 1	Leg 2	Leg 3	Leg 4	Final Total
Das
Eaton Waters
Jericho Dragr
Kivah
Kurt Korrado
Ronhar Tane

Tags: Das | Eaton Waters | Jericho Dragr | Kivah | Kurt Korrado | Ronhar Tane​

Jericho was poised and ready. He was a machine and also a Mandalorian. He hit the throttle right as the light turned green. No issues. There were, however, some racers who jumped the gun and pulled out a few nanoseconds too early. They would not be called out for it. Most of the fans probably would not even notice.

Jericho did not look back to see any pods that might have stalled, though he thought he might have heard an explosion. Over the roar of the engines and the wind, he could not be sure.

The first leg of the race led into a winding path towards the Starlite Flats. Then a narrow canyon would lead to the Mushroom Mesa, followed by the Metta Drop and the Ebe Crater Valley.

First, he had to make it to that canyon. Whoever got there first would have an advantage starting off.

...

...

And it would not be him getting there first. He had made an error in not testing the engines before firing them up before this race. The pod had sat too long, and was starting to have some trouble. The began sputtering, causing him to veer off course. He had to get the engines under control before he could hope to navigate the canyon at high speeds.

 

[Finon Nalle]

Black Sun Syndicate
Objective 3: BYOO
​

"You have to admit my duels weren't all that great." Finon remembered his first duel "Heh my first one I begged the guy if we can do it on stun." Finon bit into the last of his gorg. "NOW YOUR RACES, they were entertaining." Funny enough when Finon brought up Vashra's swoop races, the pod race started and there was already strife on the track with Jericho Dragr already having engine trouble. "I myself have gotten into art. Usually the art isn't mine." Finon thought for a moment, thinking back to Nar Shadda and the hijinks Finon and Vashra got into. But an idea came to mind. "But back to the topic of nostalgia, I was thinking of going back to Nar Shadda. The apartment is still in my name and I am quite tired of sleeping inside my starfighter. I am not talking about settling down but just having a place to come back to. We grew up together it feels like it would only be right to re-visit the place together." Finon thought it was dumb to ask, Vashra was a slave on Nar Shadda, and it would probably hurt to go back to where you were at you lowest. But hopefully she would say yes.

Vashra Foss

 

[Raylin Fall]

​

The door sealed shut.

The others in the room fanned out before their arrival.

It was tense.

It was quiet.

There was no Chancellor. He knew it was risky, but the Diplomats insisted. They were so fervent about getting the Chancellor back, getting their person that they failed to consider the possibility that they were being doomed from the start.

Raylin had protested about bringing their prisoner here, as many did. But his cries were ignored. He breathed deeply, then rapidly. His helmet turned. Eyes danced between targets. Then, stillness. He was not a fool.

"Pick."

He said out-loud to Velzari Tharn . His eyes flicked over to Quinn Varanin . Another rat that should've been put down. He'd seen her name involved in more than a normal amount of galactic tom foolery. Always here and there, causing problems, rubbing elbows. In a way, he pitied her. Always on the move, always moving from place to place.

But not enough to care if she lived or died.

"Pick which one of you dies." He said, still-calm. He was ice-cold. All killer, no filler. He couldn't speak for the other Troopers in the room. His heart-rate slowed after he slowed his breathing down, calming himself.

He accepted what was about to happen. He knew they'd probably get him. But, as much as he was about to get got, he was gonna get his.

"I'm ready. How 'bout you?"


The safety on his weapon slowly went off.

Click.

 

[Das]

//:...mission-link-established...
//:...location=TATOOINE...
//:...objective=2.0...

​

Das nodded, beaming. Of course she was here to race; you'd have to break both her legs to keep here away from a track, but even then, she'd just drag herself into whatever craft they were tearing it up in.

It was in her blood.

"You know it!" she laughed. "Stars, it's been so long... I can't wait to show you my new moves—I've only gotten better." A wink followed her subtle taunt. There was plenty more chit to talk between two old friends, but the announcer's voice put a pause on the chain-yanking. It was time to get to their pods, and Das didn't want to waste any time checking her systems before the race began.

She turned, flashed a final "good luck" smile at Kivah over her shoulder, and shouted over the rumbling engines, "Drinks are on the winner!"

Das' boots crunched the hot Tatooinian sand as she moved toward her pod. It hovered beneath the blazing suns, sleek and humming with that familiar pre-ignition vibration she's come to love. The heat rolled off its engines in shimmering waves and the smell of coolant reached her well before she was in arm's reach. Das ran a hand along the hull, feeling the tension in her muscles coil into something sharp and focused. This was where all the noise in her head quieted, where everything made sense.

A pack of pit droids scattered at her approach, chittering anxiously as they scrambled to clear the lane. One of them gave her a frantic thumbs-up with a tool still in its hand; she returned it with a grin and climbed into her seat.

Harness. Check. Fuel mix. Check. Stabilizers... still a little twitchy, but twitchy kept the reflexes honest.

The announcer's voice thundered across the canyon, fueling her adrenaline rush. Every engine roared in response, hers included. She glanced down the line. Kivah was already in position, goggles on, expression unreadable behind the glare of the suns. Das lifted two fingers off her throttle in a lazy salute.

The countdown began.

Three.

The world narrowed to the glare off the track, the shimmer of the heat haze, the pulse of her engines syncing with her heartbeat.

Two.

She leaned forward, fingers curling. The stabilizers shuddered as they locked.

One.

The starter pistol fired.

Das' pod leapt forward like something unchained, roaring down the flats as sand exploded behind her in a plume of dust. The first leg opened wide before her—those long, deceptive flats that lured rookies into oversteering too early. She didn't bite. She settled low, letting her momentum build, letting the engines stretch their legs. The craft purred into alignment, the vibrations smoothing out as she found the sweet spot.

Wind tore past her cheeks. The crowd became a smear of noise and color. Ahead, the canyon walls began their slow, looming creep inward. Das grinned, nudging the throttle a little more.

Tags:
Eaton Waters | Kivah | Kurt Korrado | Jericho Dragr | Ronhar Tane​

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
MOS ESPA, TATOOINE
OBJECTIVE I: BOONTA EVE CLASSIC

Ronhar waited with bated breath for the race to officially begin. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as his chest thumped with excitement. The moment he heard the starting shot, he would blast off ahead of his competitors, trying to build up as much as a lead possible as early as he could. That way, he could give himself some breathing room to deal with whatever poodoo that Black Sun might try and throw his way.

He heard the announcer start to count down the race. This was it! This was what he was waiting for! The culmination of months of training, tinkering, and strategizing. All for this, this one moment of greatness and glory. Ronhar clutched the controls of his TIE Podracer as hard as he could, his cybernetic hands nearly cracking the metal from the pressure of his squeezing.

"On your marks...get set...GO GO GO!"

There! There it was! The signal! Ronhar slammed his Podracer controls forwards as he immediately activated his Podracer's boost function. The machine roared to life in response, launching itself forward...before coming to an abrupt stop several feet away from the starting line. The sudden jolt of Ronhar's Podracer stopping without warning flung Ronhar forward, slamming him face first into the transparisteel viewport of his race. It was a good thing Ronhar was wearing his helmet, because if he wasn't, he probably would have knocked himself out cold. As it was, the impact put a noticeable crack into the transparisteel viewport as Ronhar struggled to right himself. A torrent of profanity came sailing out of Ronhar's mouth, so much so that it would probably have made even the most seasoned Vigo blush in embarrassment.

How? How in the name of the galaxy could this have happened? What had gone wrong? Had Ronhar messed with his racer a little to much? Had someone somehow sabotaged the machine while Ronhar wasn't looking? Were the atmospheric conditions of the planet messing with the engines, causing the Podracer to malfunction? These questions and a million more poured into Ronhar's mind, but he didn't really have any time to dwell on them. He once again slammed his controls forward, and his Podracer responded accordingly, accelerating at top speed as Ronhar tried to make up for lost time. If it was any consolation, some of his competitors were seemingly in the same boat as Ronhar was, also seemingly having trouble with their machines. Perhaps the Black Sun had done something after all.

Ronhar sighed to himself. This was exactly why he was starting to hate that stupid major faction!

TAGS:
Das
Eaton Waters
Jericho Dragr
Kivah
Kurt Korrado

 

[Kurt Korrado]

​

The starting line of the Boonta Eve Classic was like a fine symphony all to itself. The thrum of the turbo engines, drowning out every sound except for the unrelenting enthusiasm from the stands. In unison, podracing fans of Tatooine cheered for their racer, and for their beloved sport, and those cheers would echo around the galaxy on holofeeds for days to come.

It was exhilarating.

His pod bobbed slowly on its repulsors, bantha leather gloves gently playing at the throttle, revving the two gigantic jet engines, turbines swirling the ochre sands.

Kurt flashed a roguish smile at the grid girl as she counted them down,

"On your marks!"

She smiled, raising the pistol to the sky. Tatooine's twin suns reflected harshly off the metal barrel.

"Get set!"

Her finger wrapped around the trigger.

"GO, GO, GO!"

Kurt pushed in the throttle as far as it would go, the inertia blasting him back in his seat, one hand flying to his hat to stop the G-force and the wind from stealing it.

He let out a wicked "YEEEEHAAWWW!" as he took off ahead of the competition, no looking back, just a need for speed. The thought was, if he got an early lead, he'd have no one in his space through the Mushroom Mesa. Some folks said that was the hardest part of the race, weeding pods out early. It was a much easier part of the track when a racer had the opportunity to lock-in, and little chance of colliding with someone else. So that's what he did. He was certain at least a few of his competitors would conk out at the start. It always happened, between bad pit crews and sabotage.

Kurt was counting his lucky stars as he weaved through the jagged clusters of primordial red stone. On the other side, and no worse for wear (yet), the maw of Beggar's Canyon loomed in the distance across the field of sinkholes, inviting the speed demons to tempt their fates on one of the tightest turns Tatooine had to offer...