Podrace [Pre-Race: Open] The Dantooine Open RP - Preparation / Slice of Life

[Nyva Shei]

The explosion rips a breath from my lips. For a fraction of a second, my instincts take over, and I tense up, ready to react, before my mind reminds me that it's just a broadcast. But the sheer violence of the blast, the way the DFS-100 shatters into a rain of flames and twisted metal, makes me forget, even for a moment, where I really am.

My gaze locks onto the screen. Every detail burns itself into my memory. The shockwave hurls debris across the track, the other racers barely swerving out of the way in time, and the fire dances, fanned by the wind generated by their acceleration. My fingers, resting on my glass, tighten slightly.

"Usher… idiot."

I never believed in his ability to maintain his own machine. Too much arrogance, not enough caution. But something about this feels off. The explosion is too sudden, too violent. A human error? Possible. A fatal mistake? Likely. But sabotage… I can't dismiss the possibility.

I say nothing for now, preferring to observe. The room stirs with renewed energy, the spectators oscillating between horror and exhilaration. Adrenaline floods the air, tension vibrating in the atmosphere. My gaze briefly flickers toward Ova, who reacts in his usual excessive way—caught between anger and amusement. He curses, laments the lost credits, demands a drink.

I straighten slightly, regaining my composure. A smirk brushes my lips as I lift my own glass to my mouth. The alcohol slides down my throat, warming me with a fire far more controlled than the one still consuming the wreckage of the DFS-100.

The mood shifts. The accident becomes just another spectacle, and the race surges forward. The thrill of danger is never far in events like this, and I have to admit there's something intoxicating about the rush. I take a shot, then another. I can hold my liquor, too.

A touch. Warm, firm. Ova has taken my hand. My gaze drops slightly to the unexpected contact before rising to meet his again. For a moment, I let him weigh his own boldness, allow the silence between us to stretch.

Then, I choose to respond.

With a smooth motion, my fingers lace with his. A grip neither too strong nor too weak. Measured, but assured.

I listen to him speak, sensing something beneath his exuberance a thread of genuine intent. He's offering me a job. A bold move. I could ignore it, deflect with indifference or humor, but that's not my style.

I lean in slightly, letting my gaze hold his with a calculated intensity.

"I'm free to choose my contracts. Lyssara has priority in emergencies, but beyond that… I decide where and with whom I work. The Mistress gives me freedom of movement, we trust each other. My mistress autorize me to make my own life you know ?"

I pause, letting the weight of my words settle.

"And I must admit, the idea of working with you intrigues me. You seem to enjoy the thrill of danger as much as I do."

A slight smile tugs at my lips. I pick up my glass, lift the shot toward him, and with a swift motion, down it in one go. The warmth of the liquor blends with the exhilaration of the night.

"Then, to our future partnership, Captain."

I set the glass back on the counter and, without letting go of his hand, turn my attention back to the race. I can feel his gaze on me, but I choose to savor the moment, letting myself be carried by the energy of the night.

I take a third shot the glass is already empty, and I can feel my head starting to spin. I'm tipsy.

I see him coming back to me from eye level and his hand gently squeezing mine I then answer him with a slow gesture still looking away from the race.

"very well in that case I'll have a cocktail!"

Tonight is going to be interesting.

Ova Ziss

 

[Ova Ziss]

Image Credits: HotPot.AI

Objective 1: The Track
Location: VIP Boxes - Dantooine Open, Dantooine Space Station
Tags: Nyva Shei | Lyssara Thrynn | Lord Dvasius | Open​

"Usher… idiot."

"He IS an idiot! Look! He stalled out all of the other racers!"

It was true: the entire back row of racers were stuck on the track and unable to move. Ova chuckled. Things like this were known to happen during swoop races. Swooping was an inexact art, even at the best of times. Ova and the UTA would have to remake, reinvent, and re-manufacture the DFS-100. If the bikes would stall from a mere explosion, that simply would not do.

But, when Nyva interlaced her hand into his, Ova was staring at Nyva instead. The race and the drinking game with Lord Dvasius became an afterthought. The DFS-100's design flaws were pushed aside.

Ova was staring at Nyva, intoxicated with her presence (and also, intoxicated period). He was thinking some bad, bad thoughts.

It was difficult to tell what was making the Governor so bold tonight. Maybe the boldness came from the liquor, or the excitement, or the comfort, or the rocking speech he just gave....or something else. But Ova wanted Nyva Shel for himself. His eyes lingered on hers. She was wearing a beautiful black dress that complimented everything he liked about Nyva's figure. She was adventurous and curious: everything Ova liked about a woman. She picked a respectable career as a sniper and healer in the military. And this wonderful woman was holding his hand.

There was something else that remained a secret about Ova: Ova was preferentially attracted to 'alien women'. People thought it was just a rumor: a spot of gossip for the tabloids. But here Ova was, trying to knock boots with a beautiful alien woman, and everyone could see it. Rumor confirmed.

"I'm free to choose my contracts. Lyssara has priority in emergencies, but beyond that… I decide where and with whom I work. The Mistress gives me freedom of movement, we trust each other. My mistress authorized me to make my own life you know ?"

"Mistress, huh? I thought she was your boss?" Ova smirked, glancing at Lyssara sneakily, and then back at Nyva. "It sounds like she cares a lot about you, giving you freedom to work and even trusting you. Your work with me would be much of the same."

The bartender handed Ova a cocktail of soda, whiskey, and lemon juice (a "Wookie Libre"). He took a sip.

The bartender would give Nyva her cocktail quickly: Dantari on the Rocks , a mix of a number of liquors topped with a cherry and orange soda.

Ova was slurring his speech slightly. He was getting a good buzz from the alcohol.

"Thanks, barkeep. - Well, I won't judge what you call each other", Ova was talking about Nyva called Lyssara her Mistress. "The Sith, they have some strange "pet names" for each other. You don't even want to know what happens between Sith Masters and Apprentices in their private chambers. They engage in...ahem...a very different type of 'dark side'. I think it has something to do with pain tolerance." Ova chuckled again. He was having a great time. He tried to keep things "PG-13". There could have been sensitive aristocrats around him who would take offense if he explained the acts fully in detail.

If - when - they found a private space, Ova would explain to Nyva exactly what Sith Masters and Apprentices are rumored to do with each other in the bedroom chambers.

"And I must admit, the idea of working with you intrigues me. You seem to enjoy the thrill of danger as much as I do."

"Thank you! - I certainly do enjoy risk. The adrenaline, I feel, takes ten years away from my age! ...but, not everybody agrees with my idea of danger. Have you seen the news article that was published about me yesterday?"

"Hey barkeep, do you have a copy of the Dantooine Chronicle HoloNews on hand?"

The bartender hands Ova a datapad. It has the "Dantooine Chronicle" HoloNews loaded onto it. Ova keeps swiping his finger to the article in question, and then he put the datapad in front of Nyva. It is entitled: 'Governor Ova Ziss Arrested; Dantooine at War!" The article would mention at the beginning that Ova Ziss allegedly shot a Moff of the Empire of the Lost. Ova allegedly shot the Moff in retaliation for the planetary shelling of Bastion.

"Everyone is calling me a murderer", Ova said in a low voice as Nyva's eyes scanned the headline. Ova grabbed one of the shots and downed it, turning the shot glass over onto the counter. "The Sith and Jedi Orders have killed millions, but I am a murderer for shooting one man." Ova shook his head. Public opinion was so fickle. Surely, they would call him a "murderer" today, too, because of Mr. Usher's bike explosion. People might even blame Ova Ziss for the mechanical failure.

Nyva felt a small squeeze. Ova was still holding her hand.

 

[XaraXunia]

Image Credits: HotPot.AI
Objective 3: Track Betting, Pazaak, Nightclub & Skullduggery
Tags: Whottoomuzz Chantin | Xoff Chantin | Parvati | Mikremx Tremsi | Open​

When Mr. Usher died in the swoop bike explosion, Xaraxunia cackled along with some of the other people watching in the Cornerstone Club on the station. XARXARXARXAR! Szzmoothszzkin idiot cooks good! How you like that fireball?". If you can't handle the heat, then get out of the racetrack! , the bug thought to himself callously.

When Azurine pushed into first-place, the insectoid jumped up onto his feet and began roaring happily, pounding his fist on the counter and knocking back his sickly-sweet drinks FIVE THOUSZZAND CCCREDITZZZ ON AZURINE!", he shouts enthusiastically, producing credits from his coinpurse and pushing them in Xoff Chantin and Whottoomuzz Chantin 's directions. He offers up the gamble without a second thought.

As Mikremx Tremsi walks in, he would see Xaraxunia up on his spindly and buggy feet, cheering raucously for Azurine. He would also see the insectoid try to place a bet in favor of Azurine winning lap one. The race had only just started.

 

[Nyva Shei]

I gave a slight smile when I heard Ova mention the word "murderer." I tightened my grip on his hand, my eyes gleaming with amusement as I took a sip of my cocktail. I paused for a moment, then spoke in a calm voice, filled with the cold confidence expected from an elite sniper.

"A Moff, huh? A real hero in the making. A simple target for me. " I raised an eyebrow as I looked at him. "If you're being called a murderer for that, then I must be a monster. Trust me, i am a demon, you're a Angel. " I let out a small laugh, my voice becoming more pointed. "I could tell you I've taken out more than just people with a single shot, but that might be risky to talk about here with all these eavesdropping ears."

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to make it more intimate. "The missions Lyssara gives me, they're never as simple as they seem. It's not about killing; it's about making the threat disappear... discreetly, efficiently, without anyone hearing the shot." I paused, locking eyes with him, then continued. "And if you think I'm going to fall into the cliché of the reckless warrior who kills to build a reputation, you're wrong. The life is nothing for me, i am the death. I don't care about this articles, that's made me laughing. "

I sat up straight, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "I'm Lyssara's apprentice, and I've learned a thing or two about control... the art of making someone vulnerable without them ever knowing they're in danger. Like you, right now." I laughed softly, my voice cold and teasing. "Don't worry, Ova, I don't plan on shooting you in the back tonight."

I took another sip of my drink, savoring it before I looked back at him with a smirk. "You're not so bad for a politician." I tightened my grip slightly on his hand, my eyes locking with his with an intense gaze. I laughing so hard for this black joke! But, for me i have kill lot of people, and i am a sith acolyte Lyssara training me in the laboratory, she learning me the force and the secret of a dark lord.

Ova Ziss

 

[Ova Ziss]

Image Credits: HotPot.AI

Objective 1: The Track
Location: VIP Boxes - Dantooine Open, Dantooine Space Station
Tags: Nyva Shei | Lyssara Thrynn | Lord Dvasius | Open​

Ova listens carefully to Nyva. He slowly drains his drink, until it is about two thirds empty.

"If you're being called a murderer for that, then I must be a monster. Trust me, i am a demon, you're a Angel." [..]

"PAH! An angel!" Ova chuckles. "Well - I try to be good. And I do accept your compliment." He smiles at her. Such beautiful, intense yellow eyes.

"I could tell you I've taken out more than just people with a single shot, but that might be risky to talk about here with all these eavesdropping ears."

Ova leans in, whispering to Nyva. "What do you say, after the swoop races, we find somewhere private to continue that conversation?"

He smirks, and then speaks a bit louder and more business-like. "Did you say that your boss might like to have a private audience? I would love that. I'll need to give one to the race's winner anyways, and I'd love some...muscle...in the chambers." Ova looks down and then up at Nyva's naval, a very deliberate moment. Nyva's curvy dress left little to the imagination. Ova was muscular himself. His arms would look large in the white-and-gold Imperialist uniform. Ova usually wore a leather jacket and jeans, which hid his muscular figure.

"The missions Lyssara gives me, they're never as simple as they seem. It's not about killing; it's about making the threat disappear... discreetly, efficiently, without anyone hearing the shot. And if you think I'm going to fall into the cliché of the reckless warrior who kills to build a reputation, you're wrong."

Ova finishes his cocktail. He lowers his voice, looking around. "My dear, I'm a businessman. I understand danger - maybe in a different way, but I do. I have many enemies because of what my father Raiyan and I did. Danger isn't new to me" Ova hiccupped. "I'm not trying to show off, I promise. But I know what I am up against."

"The life is nothing for me, i am the death. I don't care about this articles, that's made me laughing. I'm Lyssara's apprentice, and I've learned a thing or two about control... the art of making someone vulnerable without them ever knowing they're in danger. Like you, right now."

"Hahaha! ...you're joking about killin' me, though, right?" Ova did genuinely look worried. Nyva looked like she could kill a man like him!

"Don't worry, Ova, I don't plan on shooting you in the back tonight."

"You would aim better than that!" Ova couldn't help but laugh at his joke.

"I'm glad that the news article doesn't mean anything to you, either. If I was a soldier, like you, they wouldn't have bothered to say anything." Ova smirked, and muttered to Nyva, "Maybe I ought to shoot them like I shot the Moff. - Hahaha! Listen to me talking! I sound like I'm from a karking Space Western!"

Ova is given a whiskey shot by one of his friends, a Rodian who said he's from Dantoo Town, and the friend thanks Ova for the great speech. Ova was getting hammered. Ova stood up unsteadily. He has a healthy buzz from the liquor. Ova downed the shot, and shook the guest's hand enthusiastically. Ova felt a bit bummed, because he had to release Nyva's hand. But, he hadn't seen the guy since Dantoo Town!

Ova turns behind him to Lord Dvasius , clapping his shoulders happily. "Hey Dvasius, that's eight for me, and--how many for you? Point is, I'm winning!"

Ova waves his hands all around the room, then flips his cape aside. Ova deliberately shows Nyva and Dvasius his holster. He has a fancy, brand-new cracker slugthrower on his hip. The writing says: UMAC. It is slightly larger than a regular pistol.

The Governor pretends that he is taking the gun out, while beaming. He is only miming the movements. He's making a show for Dvasius, Nyva, and the Rodian guest. "PUT EM UP, MARLEN SULARON, you warlord son of a Sith!", Ova calls out loudly to the entire room, acting out a climactic battle. A few voices chuckle.

Ova mimes dodging blaster fire, and then shooting Marlen Sularon with the invisible gun. Ova turns to the side slightly, and he pretends to be Marlen now. He pretends to be riddled with bullets, and then he collapses into the bar stool, pretending he is dead. The Governor sits up in his chair with a huge grin on his face. There is a smattering of drunken, disinterested applause at the performance. Ova mutters to Lord Dvasius .

"If that Warlord son of a [*hic*] son of a Sith Marlon ever came here, I'll blast him with The Lost's starship! Bwahahaha!"

Ova sits down, laughing the whole time. He was being boisterous and jolly, knowing that he was in good company, and that the days of him being a diplomatic lapdog were (mostly) over. The Diarchs would delegate that job to somebody else, leaving Dantooine to act independently under (mostly) Ova's rule.

Unless, you know, the Diarchy decided to go to war with the whole planet.

"You're not so bad for a politician."

"You're quite amazing yourself."

In response to this flirtation, Ova became bolder. This time, he leaned forward with his left arm and tried to stretch his arm fully around Nyva's waist.