Podrace Serolonis Riot Racing 5000

[Nala]

Location: Seralonis

Nala's pod screamed into the last section like a beast too stubborn to die, its engines roaring against the eerie silence of the Mirror Meld. For the first time since the race began, she risked a glance at her chrono. Koda Fett was gone, his engines snuffed, his pod abandoned. That was one less problem. All that mattered now was clawing her way up to the leaders, salvaging something from this cursed run.

But the Mirror Meld did not care for determination.

The first phantom appeared at her flank: her own pod, copied perfectly, down to the scrapes on the hull. Her pulse didn't jump, but her jaw clenched tight. She angled away just as it swerved toward her, shimmering like a heat mirage before dissolving into nothing. A false racer. Trickery.

She pushed harder, skimming along what looked like an open stretch. The walls bent unnaturally at the edges, and she realized too late it was a holo-wall. She yanked her yoke hard, the nose clipping stone, sparks spitting across the canopy. The pod shuddered, its stabilizers groaning as she forced it back into line.

Another illusion came at her. She slammed into it anyway, expecting the shimmer, and instead clipped hard light disguised as empty air. The jolt nearly wrenched the controls out of her hands, alarms howling in her ears. Her stabilizers spat fire, and the whole rig listed like a drunken bantha.

Nala cursed under her breath, fighting for control. Every illusion, every false wall, felt like a blade edge, and she found herself dancing clumsily across the track. By the time the finish line came into sight, she was battered, her pod coughing black smoke and trailing parts like a dying beast. She limped across the line behind half the pack, her position so low it curdled the iron in her veins.

When the sensor registered her finish, Nala didn't even unclasp her harness at first. She just sat there, seething, the taste of metal on her tongue. Then, with a guttural growl, she slammed her fist against the console, hard enough to crack one of the already battered readouts. She shoved the cockpit open, hauling herself out before the pod had even cooled.

On the ground, one boot came down against the side of her pod with a vicious kick, denting the hull deeper. Another followed. The machine had carried her through, yet it had embarrassed her, shamed her. It had made her look less than she was. And that, she could not forgive.

Across the track, Damien Dooku was already performing his victory, his swagger effortless, his win untouched. The way he leaned, casual, hungry for food rather than glory, only made it worse. He hadn't clawed for survival like the rest of them; he had danced above it, untouchable. She checked the times. Her stomach twisted. He hadn't just been ahead, he had been unchallenged from the first lap. A phantom victory.

Her pod hissed behind her, leaking coolant. She didn't spare it another glance. Instead, she turned to face Rathmar Praji , her eyes narrowing as she caught his satisfied smile in the viewing booth. Even through the smoke and lights, she could feel his gaze like a tangible weight.

She lifted her hand, fist pressed briefly to her chest, and bowed her head once: short, sharp, professional. A sign of respect, and also an acknowledgment: the Vigo had staged his spectacle, and she had played her part.

Then she turned on her heel, not sparing Damien, nor the wreckage of her pod, another look. A waste of time, a waste of credits, and worse, a waste of her skill. She walked off into the pits with her fury folded tight around her, a silent storm that would not be forgotten.

Spoiler

Section 1 - 3/20
Section 2 - 11/20
Section 3 - 11/20
Section 4 - 19/20
Section 5 - 9/20
Final Total - 53

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Rathmar Praji

There was an audible click under Braze's thumb as he engaged the red button on his controls. The pod's sputtering engines kicked to life with a violent shudder as a minute line of refined coaxium was bled into the turbines. The volatile reaction burst through the turbines nearly exploding in a loud echoing back fire that echoed across the track, their glow flaring white-hot as the pod leapt forward with a sudden terrifying acceleration.

The surge ripped through the tunnel like a lightning strike, dragging the craft with such force it seemed to skip across the air currents. The Sarlacc's tentacles lashed from the cavern walls, but Braze's pod moved with such unnatural speed that each thrash fell behind him in a blur, the coaxium injector carrying him just ahead of the creature's furious reach.

The patched-together deathtrap tore down the geyser-lined tunnel next as jets of corrosive steam erupted in every direction. His pod weaved through with reckless bravado, paint sizzling and panels warping from near misses and mild splashes that didn't last long on the surface before wind-sheer suctioned it right off the panels. Steering was more a matter of luck than skill. Somehow, through sheer velocity, the pod skated past the last eruption still intact, though smelling faintly of a burning metallic and glue scent.

The coaxium boost was still fizzing away in the engines when Braze hit the tractor beam gauntlet. Tractor beams flared on and off in a sadistic rhythm, trying to yank pods sideways into walls of jagged rock. His pod, still juiced up from the injector, didn't so much dodge them as drunkenly out-accelerate them. One beam managed to catch the tail fin, spinning him in a perfect 360 spins mid-flight. Instead of crashing, the boost carried him through the gap sideways, cockpit rattling like a cantina shaker, before the pod righted itself with a lurch. By the time the beams cycled again, Braze was already clear, leaving behind the impression that he had planned the whole ridiculous stunt!
The Hotmess Express was rocketing its way up from nearly last place, outpacing other pods in sheer absurdity rather than actual engineering. As the tunnel split into a kaleidoscope of shimmering illusions, racers would have to sort real track from hologram. Braze's junkheap didn't seem to slow or bother with sorting this out as the pod barreled straight through the false racers and holo-walls, scattering THROUGH illusions like cheap smoke.

A wall of hard-light shimmered across the tunnel creating the perfect trap of a way out of this hellscape of speed and death, but at the last possible second, one of Braze's rattling engine cowlings tore loose and slammed the projection field, shortening it out just enough to flicker open a tiny gap. With reckless glee-filled abbandon, the Hotmess Express jammed itself through he thumbnail slot scraping paint and showering sparks.

It seemed, however, that this little wake-up call and start of cognizance wasn't soon enough nor fast enough to catch up to the leaders of the pack, and had likely only advanced to fourth place. The Hotmess Express sputtered across the finish line in a storm of smoke and sparks, engines rattling as though they might tear themselves free at any second.

Braze cranked the main throttle back hard and yanked on the emergency brake, but instead of slowing, the pod whined like a dying bantha as it skidded sideways, sparks screaming off the hull. The brake cables gave one last heroic snap before tearing loose entirely, sending the pod fishtailing end over end through a stack of safety pylons. It spun out and careened sideways as the racer chose that moment to bail from the cockpit, rolling out across the track. The wreckage finally ground to a halt, sailing in a long, arched drifting maneuver before slamming into a wall, the engines coughing their last before exploding into a haze of smoke and debris, looking for all the world as if he had planned even that deadly stunt. Braze stood up from his roll, unscathed, and moved off the track as though nothing had gone wrong at all.

Dice Roll Results
• First Roll: 8
• Second Roll: 4
• Third Roll: 11
• Fourth Roll: 18
• Fith Roll: 16

---

Total 57:

​

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

​

Ahead the tunnel rippled with light, illusions flickering like mirages in Harlan midday. Tansu was about to slow down, to give herself time to decipher, when her attacker cam screaming back into her lane.

Flames roared from the side of his pod, licking across the gap toward her engines. Warning lights flared red as the heat shimmered against the stabilizers.

"Really?! Guess we're both petty sonsaguns." she shouted over the din, throwing her pod into a skid that scraped her roll cage against the right-hand wall.

At first, the flamethrower missed clean, but the blast of heat seared paint and set her canopy rattling like a drum. Ronhar Tane pressed the attack, and the illusions didn't make it easier. For a split second, there were three of him — one to her left, one dead ahead, one behind.
Her gut told her to juke right. She almost did, but something about the glow was too smooth, too perfect. Illusion.

She punched the throttle and held steady. The false image shattered as her pod blasted through it, the real Ronhar revealed off her port side, overshooting in the gap she didn't take.

A flash of motion caught her eye an open run toward the final stretch. But the Black Sun techs weren't done. The wall ahead looked wide and clear, inviting her to gun it.

She obliged, throttling forward hard, and at the last second saw an unnatural undulation. Jagged stone masked by light.

"Feth's sake" she hissed, dropping her pod low. Sparks flew as she scraped under the false projection. Tansu's engines groaned, her pod rattled, but the track finally straightened out. Ahead, Damien was carving the lead, the last stretch opening wide for the finish. She grinned, heart hammering, and pushed everything she had left into the throttle.

Pods lined up at the end, Damien resting on his laurels, Nala not sticking around, Braze spinning out to pylons, Davik Haize sputtering across, Klar zooming in, and Koda Fett nowhere to be seen.

Tansu pulled up in a wide arc, her pod groaning after the stress of the race. She killed the engines in one motion and didn't wait for the dust to settle and she flung herself out — boots hitting the ground hard, helmet already ripping free.

Her hair tumbled loose in a wild mane, streaked with smoke and sweat, and a raccoon ring of grime framed eyes that still sparked with adrenaline. Everything below her cheekbones was caked in dirt and exhaust, but she didn't care; the pulse in her veins had her practically bouncing on her heels.

"'Ol Midnight's in good hands I see," she grinned, swinging up beside Damien Dooku and giving his arm a knuckle-quick jab. "Helluva run. I'd say good to see you but, ya made me come second so I'm only so-so on the enthusiasm."

The dimples betrayed her though, her toothsome grin extra bright and shameless against the soot, and wide enough to tell the truth that her tone was in jest. She would've stayed, would've traded more jabs, but her gaze cut to the stands and her heart went with it.

Then she was flat-out sprinting, boots kicking up clouds behind her, arms flung wide. She didn't slow when she hit him. She launched herself, all dirt and laughter and adrenaline, trusting him to catch her. Her legs locked around his waist, arms thrown tight around his neck, and she pressed the biggest, smokiest, dirtiest kiss of his life with a whoop that carried all her joy of survival.

When she finally pulled back, forehead against his, her grin was unstoppable. "That," she panted, still breathless with thrill, "was a lotta fun."

And leaning back further, for eye contact with her sister: "Someone out there messed us up. I could feel ya, then I couldn't so much. Thanks for lookin' out though, you saved me that last run."

Her head jerked back a bit, over her shoulder: "Wanna cheers the winner?"

Spoiler

____________________________________________________________
CHEER SQUAD, WE DID IT! Talsin Lota | Talin Treicolt | Morrow (getting coke instead of gatorade?)
____________________________________________________________
​

 

[Rathmar Praji]

There was no denying the thunderous applause of the crowd in the stands, a sound that enveloped the speedway as the final lap came to an end. From his booth, Rathmar observed with a deepening frown as the situation deteriorated; all the traps had failed, none succeeded in eliminating a podracer, allowing one individual to claim the prize of a Black Crown seemingly through sheer luck rather than skill.

The result was an anomaly, a challenge to all logical reasoning. Only one podracer, Damien Dooku , had successfully navigated the entire course with an extraordinary blend of speed and daring maneuvers, emerging from the chaos of the Mirror Meld relatively unscathed.

"There is simply no explanation...for such luck on the track without possessing insider information. Dooku must have leveraged his well-known name to gain access to a layout," Rathmar reflected, a bitter tone evident in his voice as he spoke to the Majordomo. The Rodian merely returned a faint smile, fully aware that the Vigo's thoughts were far from rational, but who could blame him for feeling that way after losing 100,000 credits?.

His palm dug into the plush armrest of the lounge, as Tansu Treicolt , Ronhar Tane , Koda Fett , Braze , Davik Haize , Klar and Nala crossed the finish line with some semblance of a pod racer left even though most of them would be rightfully scrapped by the end of the event. They had done their best to dethrone the King of the Raceway and had failed....but they had promising careers in the sport so he would keep them in mind should the Black Sun host another one in the future.

"Attention, citizens of Serolonis!" his voice boomed over the speedway's loudspeak. "The Riot 5000 has concluded! The winner, by a considerable margin and an unparalleled display of piloting prowess, is Damien Dooku " A polite ripple of applause from the booth was all he offered, a cold, empty gesture.

"A performance for the ages," Rathmar continued, his voice dripping with faux admiration.

"The Vigo of Ruusan congratulates you on your triumph, Podracer Dooku. A truly... inspired victory. Though before you get your prize there will be an inspection of your pod and review of the recordings for any unfair advantage.." His words hung in the air, a thinly veiled accusation before turning to gather his things from the booth to head down to the Security Station for review.

Spoiler: Race Place

Damien Dooku - 93 Points

Tansu Treicolt - 71 Points

Ronhar Tane - 65 Points

Braze - 57 Points

Nala - 53 Points

Davik Haize - 47 Points

Koda Fett - 45 Points

Klar - 43 Points

 

[Morrow]

An otherworldly tension was gradually building, detectable only by that strange sense beyond the mundane. Every second that went by, it felt closer and closer to having the lid blow off. Morrow waited for that flash he was used to, that inexplicable gut feeling that always told him exactly what would happen next, but it wasn't coming.

Tell you what - I'll be generous. Let's go for a spin in that freighter, ring Razmir on the comms, and let him know you plan to be a good boy. Or..."

"Heh." It may not have been a joke, but it was funny. Obviously, that wasn't happening.

Anticipation was unbearable, and Morrow was tired of waiting. "How about this instead...?" he offered, feigning banter. As fast as he could manage, he drew the SE-14r from its holster and fired from the hip without even parting his cloak. A red bolt screamed from the barrel, punching a hole through the black fabric that concealed the weapons and whizzing towards the hunter in front of him.

Panic at and around the concession stands broke out immediately.

_____________________________________________________

Arris Windrun | Talin Treicolt | Damien Dooku​

 

[Arris Windrun]

Red-hot plasma tore through fabric, then synthflesh, and scorched the subdermal armor beneath even that.

Arris had plenty of reason to be proud of his efforts. For one, she used a very similar tactic in her fight with Mercy . However, that fight also changed the cyborg's definition of 'threatening' and 'lethal.' It wasn't that Morrow couldn't kill her; she had no idea, but a light blaster wasn't going to push her into that headspace.

She maintained her grin and didn't even bother to draw her weapon fully. Why would she? Her co-processor already marked the target during their conversation. She could likewise fire from the hip and aim for his head.

She aimed for his knee.

Her left holster tilted up, Ambassador still tucked inside, and let roar an energy-wrapped slug. A noise that would certainly carry, but not sound anything unlike a podracer backfiring. There were, of course, the panic-filled screams in the immediate vicinity, as the crowd scattered.

Only a flinch between his shot and hers.

 

[Talin Treicolt]

The terror that arose from the concessions area interrupted all thought of after-party planning and the congratulations of their winner. Talin turned, peering over the pit and area, lookin' to see what all the fuss was about. A cold spike was driven into her spine as she realized Morrow had still not returned with her drink. Without waiting up for any of their friends, Talin clambered over the makeshift barrier and began sprinting up the rows of chairs, takin' 'em in steps of two.

The crowd thickened after she broke the main aisle, and she was pushin' against a stampedin' herd tryin' to get away from the source. Body upon body fought against her, slowin' her down. Whatever had been dullin' the force had died away; Tansu's presence remained finicky, but Morrow's sense of danger flooded their bond like a river. Her hands dropped to her blaster, unsheathin' it from holster, and one shot was fired straight into the air.

That cleared a path real quick.

Talin could see them now - backs turned, but tension rackin' their shoulders.

"Hey! Blondie!"

Without hesitatin', she dropped her blaster to line up with the woman's form and let loose a volley in their direction.

_____________________________________________________
savin' u ig: Morrow | hands off: Arris Windrun
wtf gang: Tansu Treicolt | Damien Dooku ​

 

[Damien Dooku]

Damien sauntered up to meet with Rathmar Praji following his victory in the race, and his attempted call to his friend leaving him high and dry without a response. He rolled his eyes in response to the pompous affair that followed, though his attention soon shifted away from the adoration of the crowds and the Vigo alike once he spotted the familiar visage of his friends some distance away, their body language and demeanor giving him the impression that something was going on that he'd been obliviously unaware of at the time.

"The Vigo of Ruusan congratulates you on your triumph, Podracer Dooku. A truly... inspired victory. Though before you get your prize there will be an inspection of your pod and review of the recordings for any unfair advantage.."

He nodded along with the Vigo, though truthfully he was paying very little attention to what the man was saying. He spotted Tansu Treicolt a good bit of distance away from them, and his demeanor shifted rather tense upon seeing her fawn into some guy's arms and lay a kiss on his lips that cut deeper than a Krayt Dragon's maw into a Bantha's hide. He clenched his fist around the Black Crown, momentarily gritting his teeth as he seethed with something between anger and jealously that was anything but subtle.

"...Do what'cha want with the thing." Damien would eventually reply, tossing him the ignition keys to the pod without hesitation. "I won with nothing but skill, chief. You'll figure that out soon enough."

It was the sudden appearance of a blaster bolt ringing into the air that would snap him out of the rising wave of jealous doomerism consuming his soul by then. To no surprise it was Morrow who fired the first shot, and that confirmed to him that lingering around to revel in his victory was off the table. Not that he wanted to linger around anymore in the first place after what he'd just seen, anyway.

Without wasting a beat, Damien slapped a slip of paper into Rathmir's hand. "My account and routing number. I expect those credits there within a week."

Damien whipped his blaster pistol from beneath his jacket despite still being on stage. He got a running start towards the edge of the stage before leaping far into the crowd, the bystanders clearing a path for the victor as he rushed towards Morrow and Talin without missing a beat. He flicked a switch on his pistol with his thumb, changing it into stun-fire mode as he lined up with the woman engaging his friends. He assumed they were a bounty hunter or just some Black Sun-aligned goon, but the last thing he wanted was to lay down a hail of deadly shots into a crowd of relatively innocent people.

His pistol erupted with a volley of stun bolts aimed at catching them from behind and effectively jumping them alongside his friends. Three guns to their one, he hoped it was enough to scare them off if the volley of surprise stun bolts didn't hit their target.

<"We're leaving-- now."> He spoke up over their shared commlink once more.

Morrow Talin Treicolt Arris Windrun Rathmar Praji

 

[Koda Fett]

He sauntered up to the finish line a touch late and without a podracer, on account of it being a crumpled mess of scrap metal somewhere out in the desert sea. It became clear to all that he was worth little and less as a racer, with the Black Crown needing to be earned elsewhere.

But, not all was lost. An Imperial sought the winning podracer, wishing for it to become their own in exchange for a nice sum of ten-thousand credits. An easy enough request to oblige. Made even easier with the winner darting off to tend to some urgent business, which no doubt involved the ringing blaster fire. Business, but not his.

A crew of pit droids came clunking out across the sands to tend to the winning pod for purposes of validating legitimacy, or even ensuring the opposite. This was Black Sun, after all. Though in a lazy, sweeping kick, the bounty hunter's boot crashed into the center eye of the lead droid. It flattened itself into a square, deactivating. He leaned against the pod, waving his blaster at the other droids that only quaked as much as a droid could.

"I want my credits now," he broadcasted to Ronhar Tane .

 

[Morrow]

As soon as Morrow fired, he strafed left instinctively. He wasn't quick enough. Flesh tore and cauterized near-instantly as the returned shot carved a deep swath across the outside of his knee. A yelp escaped him as the leg buckled, falling to a knee and catching himself just in time with a hand splayed against the dusty floor. Twisting, he raised his blaster to fire again from the ground. Before he could, a familiar voice rang out behind a sudden salvo.

"Hey! Blondie!"

Morrow used the distraction to rise on his good leg. A hand snatched forward, seizing a confused protocol droid by the mechanical bicep. He yanked the droid between himself and the hunter, then planted a palm hard into its back to send it stumbling toward her. Throwing himself backward, he landed supine over the Huttaburger counter and followed through into a roll and landed on the opposite side. He landed on his injured leg, crying out with a curse as he recoiled. A Duros worker hiding likewise behind the worktop jumped up at the sight of Morrow's blaster and ran for the back exit.

<"We're leaving-- now.">

<"That schutta shot me in the leg!"> he replied after a small episode of fumbling his commlink out from beneath his cloak. It was clear he wasn't going anywhere on his own.

_____________________________________________________

Arris Windrun | Talin Treicolt | Damien Dooku​

 

[Arris Windrun]

Talin Treicolt 's timing was inexplicable.

Arris was about to aim for Morrow 's other knee until the woman bombarded her with small fire. A shiver ran down the cyborg's spine, warning her moments before the plasma discharged. She held up her right arm like a poor excuse for a shield. Some of the hits scorched that metal; others tore through her synthflesh and melted the armor beneath.

She was about to turn her attention back to the mark until a second rescuer arrived. Stun bolts were an interesting one. They reminded Arris of her duel with the Emperor's Hand, when the Sith Shadow applied a brilliant display of mechu macture to fry the cyborg.

Allyson poured the absorbed energy into the air between them. She sent it back into the cybernetics, aiming to ionize Arris's systems with a violent pulse.

The scoundrel felt the energy numb her nerves momentarily, before it was absorbed hungrily up her spine, destined to be swallowed whole by her co-processor. It reminded them both of that fear during those all-or-nothing moments. One gutter trash cyborg versus the galaxy, as it were. It also reminded her of the power that followed.

She had to give Morrow credit, though - he was very lucky these two came when they did. Maybe he was about to win the lottery, too, who knows. That luck seemed to extend even further when, as soon as Arris tried to make sure he was crawling for good, a poor protocol droid was suddenly thrown against her chest.

"Bah!" She exclaimed and stumbled back.

Lucky and slippery. He'd have to wait.

She drew her second gun, one in each hand now, and turned to face Damien Dooku and Talin both. She was also careful to keep Morrow's general direction in her periphery, even if he was currently out of sight. Smoke rolled off her burning synthflesh, and her grin replaced by a mannequin's stoneface.

One she recognized as another mark, but the other she did not recognize at all.

Arris really should've seized the moment, but instead she waited for them to make their next moves.