Podrace Calling All Daredevils & Gamblers! || Starship Race & Sabacc

[Aerin Denno]

CALLING ALL DAREDEVILS & GAMBLERS!
Starship Race & Sabacc
Location: Toshara, Outer Rim Territories

​

Hosted by none other than the Outer Rim's Spacers League, the annual Tosharan Junk Belt Circuit is an open race for any starship pilot brave enough to speed through the dense debris field surrounding the windswept world of Toshara. The course begins at Renpalli Station and runs through four legs: the Crucible, ship graveyard, slygel hive, and wreck cluster. Racers are welcome to prepare their ships aboard the station and are invited to celebrate the winner in the cantina on Renpalli's upper level.

PRIZES
1st Place: 10,000 UCs
2nd Place: 5,000 UCs
3rd Place: 2,500 UCs
All Participants: Signature Bling

​

RACER​	LEG 1​	LEG 2​	LEG 3​	LEG 4​	TOTAL​
example​	12​	8​	7 (-1) = 6​	15​	41​

Spoiler: The Rules

Spoiler: The Course

​

On Toshara's amberine surface, gamblers, card sharks, and high rollers are gathering in the capital city of Mirogana. The Pykes, Hutts, and Crimson Dawn have put their knives away (for now) to promote an open-table sabacc tournament in Mirogana's underworld. Tables seating 2-4 players each are free to join, if you have the credits to back your chutzpah. Grab a drink, pound some spice, and bet it all on the cards.

PRIZES
There's no limit to how many games you can play!
Each time you win, roll three d100s to win some loot from the loot table below!
(re-roll duplicate numbers, unless you want to keep duplicate loot)
All Participants: Signature Bling

Spoiler: The Rules

Spoiler: Sabacc Loot Table

​

Ah, Toshara! Lovely, windy... orange - it's the perfect oasis for anyone looking for a good time in the Outer Rim Territories! From traders and local cuisine in Mirogana, to betting on fathier races and playing sabacc, to exploring the savannahs that stretch between the capital to Jaunta's Hope, the sky is the limit. Come and visit the amberine jewel of the Spacers League, a haven for scoundrels and ruffians.

OPTIONAL LOOTING
If you'd like to win, steal, or loot during your time on Toshara, look no further!
Simply roll 1d100 per post where you're looting to gain some treasures.

Spoiler: Exploration Loot Table

Interested Parties
Azurine Varek | Spek Zhio | Dani Stellaris | Mellifluous Magenta | A Phoenix | Pal Veda | Rissk | Mars Raynor | deplorable | Inhye Oh-chai | Sor-Jan Skywalker

[OOC Coordination Thread]​

 

[Dani Stellaris]

Objective 1

Dani was always looking for a less-than-awful way to make some money. And winning a race? That was peachy for her. The blonde from Firefist had her fighter prepped and ready and landed the Pick Up on Toshara. She was more than happy to get out in a starfighter race, even if her skill was more the pod racing and the like. Her fighter, the Slice Hound was designed for a good zero G race every so often and she had no problem putting it through its paces.

The gathered were meeting on the station, and she loaded herself up into the fighter, black and white, with matching racing outfit, and took off. A bit of her SLAM engine got her there, and waving that she was a racer out, she was given permission to land. Finding her landing spot, the blonde was checking the downloads to her ships internal computer. She needed to really find a way to install a way for her R9 Mack to upload and help her.

A co-pilot, reading out the turns and illuminating the map.

As her fighter touched down, she put the fighter in its simple maintenance mode as she stepped out.

 

[Eaton Waters]

Objective 3
Jaunta's Hope
Art Gallery

There was always something to steal here. Toshara had a lot going on for it, but it also had a lot of fools. And right now? Eaton was more than happy to capitalize on that. The thief-turned-racer was down on his luck. The last subspace race he took a nasty hit from a competitor and it threw his A-Wing into the grips of a gravity anomaly, ripping one of the engines from it, and forcing him to limp to a pick up. The green-and-orange racer, his former pride and joy was towed back to Pamarthe, and kept on the Waters landing platform.

Brooke hadn’t been around in ages.

But with that ship broken? He hopped a ride with one of the shipping pilots out of Pamarthe and found himself on Toshara. Eaton had a few ideas, and was dressed as an upper-middle class here. The man had a ship in mind, one that was a bit older, but very useful for a Blubreen like him. The world he found himself on had a lot of different beings, but for now?

Eaton was here to watch. Spacer’s League was gathering support out here, and maybe that was what this galaxy needed, some scoundrels making moves. Jaunta’s Hope had decent hotels, and he made himself a home and base of operations in one. Hard to hide his upbringing, so he’d not stay too long, but people knew he was looking for art, and that was bringing good clientele right in range of his hands.

 

[Pal Veda]

Object II
Mirogana

The water was cold on his face, but not unpleasantly so. Veda took the towel hanging by the sink and dried his cheeks and forehead, then ran his damp hands through his hair, pulling it back. The eyedrops helped hide the physical signs, but inside his head, the spice was certainly starting to kick in. Not that anyone here cared. But if he was playing cards, he wanted his opponents to at least think he was sober.

Veda stopped by the bar on his way to the table and ordered a beer — something light, given his current state. The screens were all turned to the same channel. A pre-race show for the ole Tosharan Junk Belt Circuit. He’d flown it before, back when he was young and dumb. Racing was a kid’s game. People with something to prove. It was a great way to get noticed, especially today, with the various syndicates in town for the collection of events co-sponsored by the Spacer’s League. Fly well, impress the right people, and maybe it turns into a job. Veda had long since earned his bona fides, so he opted to watch from the Sabacc table today.

The pre-race coverage had been on all day, interviewing some of the pilots, discussing ship specs, an in memoriam for those that didn’t quite make it through the junk belt last year. A Corellian StarDrive Flashfire caught his eye as the holocam panned over the ships gathered at the station. Interesting choice. In the right hands, with the right modifications, it could certainly hold its own. He wondered who the pilot might be, but the coverage moved on before he found out.

Drink in hand, Veda headed toward his assigned table and took a seat. “Who’s ready to lose some creds?”

 

[Sor-Jan Skywalker]

Tags: Dani Stellaris
Objective 1: Junk Belt Circuit
Location: Renpalli Station, Toshaal System

​

Sor-Jan’s ship was many things, but meant to be racing while he was on Toshara to collect a shipment of amberine was not one of them.

The Xanadu Fire landed with a small thud in Renpalli’s hangar. BB-7D, a salvaged Imperial BB-series astromech that Miyuki “acquired” during a skirmish with the Ashiga Clan on Kijimi, bleeped as he rolled out of the starship. He joined the young pilot with sensor lights flashing. “This is Renpalli Station,” Sor-Jan said to the droid with a smile.

BB beeped back, curious about what they were doing here. Renpalli was a refueling station for spacers who wanted to skip landing in Mirogana.

“Yeah, I know. The shipment’s below us, on Toshara. But the Junk Belt Circuit is up here!” The boy’s eyes coruscated with excitement.

If BB could purse his lips, he would have.

Instead, he whined a cautious tone. “Oh c’mon,” Sor-Jan complained. “It’ll be fun! We’ll get to see just how fast the Xanadu can go, and I’ll even bet there’s old cluster mines out there you can blast.” That perked the little droid up. BB whirred and beeped as he rolled beside his companion, whose antics never failed to impress.

“Just gotta find where to register the ship,” Sor-Jan said more to himself than the droid. He scanned the hanger with curious eyes, taking in the half-dozen or so pilots who’d assembled for the race. His eyes stopped on Dani Stellaris nearby. He gave the woman a friendly wave and approached her ship, which she appeared to be running through a maintenance routine.

Sor-Jan made sure the woman could see him before he walked closer, so as not to startle her; he knew from growing up on Galaxy Tree station just how little spacers liked being sneaked up on, and his tiny frame was rather easy to miss.

“Hi!” he said with a kind smile. “I’m Sor-Jan. I really like your ship.” Up close, he could really admire its craftsmanship. Sor-Jan appreciated a good custom ship, and Dani’s was certainly a unique piece of equipment.

“Are you racing her today?” he asked, tilting his head. “I’m looking for the registration kiosk, actually. I’m going to race!” BB-7E beeped excitedly, and Sor-Jan pointed to the Xanadu Fire, a dated but reliable AD-1S starfighter.

​

 

[Rissk]

Mirogana, Toshana
The Table
- Pal Veda - Open -
​

Rissk was absolutely terrible at sabacc.

The only reason he found any success at all was because he played against people who didn't know Trandoshan facial expressions. He had an awful poker face, but distinguishing between his people's 'I have a winning hand' smile and their 'I'm so gonna lose' smile was tricky, due to both looking arrogant, and a little savage.

He passed the table on the way to pick up a loan-dodger bounty... and figured, why not? He was new at the card game, yes... but he had also just fallen into a bit of cash by working with the new Confederacy, so why not blow it trying to win big? He had ship maintenance to worry about now, a pet bird to feed

He didn't name himself Rissk for nothing.

Then, perking up, he heard another reason to join.

“Who’s ready to lose some creds?”

"You, I hope." The lanky Trandoshan sat down, flicking his entry fee onto the sabacc table. He hadn't seen the fellow hunter since they'd taken the Pyke job together. "Pal Veda. Good to see you again."

"Thanks for going through all the trouble of divvying up our last score. But I think I'll be un-divvying it, now."

 

[Spek Zhio]

"Renpalli Station..." from his pilot seat, fully naked, he read the Aurebesh out loud, as it blinked on one of the flight panels. "I guess it's as good a place as any. Plus, beggars can't be choosers."

Spek Zhio, the one man skeleton crew of the Azure Alcyone, a retrofitted YT-1930, was having a conversation with his battered starship as he registered an approach vector for the station. It was not the lack of navicomputer, temperature control, automated weaponry, or blown out lights across all three fore portside cabins and connecting passageway, that decreed the ship as being run-down. Those were just some of her idiosyncrasies, albeit not the most significant one. Not that it mattered much. Spek unconditionally accepted Alcyone - his sole travel companion through the vast sea of stars - exactly as she was. No, it was the single, poorly patched, astarboard puncture through the titanium-chromium of the outer hull, that currently made her subpar. A gift from an aerial dogfight on some nerf herding poor excuse for a planet. "Luckily, the inner durasteel is still holding strong, right Alcy? Though, we would be risking a conduit blowout on the sublight if we were to aerobrake for atmospheric entry," the ship replied in her usual manner of blinking lights and buzzes. "That's what I said back in Tatooine, we should really get an astromech! But I guess, this space station is as good a place as any to get you all patched up."

Neither filling in for the roles of captain, pilot, gunner, engineer, cook, and astrogator; nor the prolonged stints spacefaring, spent in solitude; were taking its toll on the man's sanity. He was not imagining a conversation with an inanimate space vessel, but rather actually having one with the heuristic droid brain that served as ship's computer. Azure Alcyone's utmost peculiarity, was that some might dare proclaim her to be sentient. The ship claimed truth to that statement by replying with a kaleidoscopic sweep across the scanner terminal.

"I know, we really had it rough back there on Bestine... Didn't even get to unload those frakkin moisture vaporators, and both your bays are still full to the brim with that mopak. I'm sure I can restore your hull just fine, on my own, but I have yet to see a station on the Outer where credits aren't readily available. Maybe we can make some extra to afford me a nice meal and you some much needed upgrades...

"What do you say Alcy?"

---

​

Unidentified Hangar​

Renpalli Station, Toshara Space​

Toshaal System, Outer Rim Territories ​

​

Local Time : Unknown ​

Local Weather : N/A​

---

Just as the automated docking procedure had completed, Spek was finishing putting on his long red coat, patterned with delicate gold embroidery. That, alongside his exquisite Echani vibrosword and the still functioning brain inside an otherwise inoperational RX-series pilot droid, were gifts left by the previous proprietor of his starship. May the Force be with whoever that kind soul might have been, that had left those items behind on some Corellian scrapyard. Unable to properly see inside his unlit quarters, Spek had been dressing on the main hold, his belongings scattered on top of the dejarik table. His mind wandering, "After I patch you up, maybe I can find a nice little game of holochess or sabacc. You know? At least to cover for my drinks and replace those blown lights." Alcyone beeped in derision, while also causing the lights on the room to blink in rhythmic fashion. "See that you don't blow these as well with your incessant blabbering, missie! Well, if things go south we'll just have to bolt! As usual, keep your sublight fusion running after I leave," he requested, nonchalantly.

Stepping out into the hangar, from the astern starboard cargo hold of his blue-streaked starship, Spek took a moment to look around. Beneath his coat, he was wearing an open shirt, his red chest laid bare. He was also wearing half a dozen rings of as many shapes, sizes, and materials, unevenly divided between the fingers of both hands. An equal amount of bracelets followed suit, although a particular silvered one was thus hidden in plain sight. Half-concealed beneath the long red outer garment was his vibrosword, the Kingfisher. Fully concealed, however, was the Mercury-Class Energy Pistol, holstered alongside the sheathed sword on his left hip. Safely stored on the opposite side, and inside his utility belt's pouch, were his interlocking lightsabers. A prized possession from what now seemed like a previous life. A time before the Padawan became the smuggler he was today.

Eyeing a kid hailing from a starship as ancient as his and, as sure as his was, surreptitiously harboring aftermarket upgrades galore, the Zeltron heard him say something about a race to another nearby spacer. Making his way towards the two, he made sure that the dial on his pheromone-suppressing bracelet, on the right wrist, was properly set. Just because his species could produce chemicals that were able to influence someone else's disposition, to a certain degree; same as he could achieve in a similar yet heightened manner, by employing the Force; did not mean he opted in doing so. In fact, Spek Zhio prized his and everyone else's free volition above all else. The bracelet was there to make sure it was so.

"Hey there, bud!" he addressed the young man. "Sorry to eavesdrop, what's that I heard about a race?"

He warranted that racing should not differ all that much from fleeing from syndicates or law enforcement. While he lacked any experience on the former, he had plenty with the latter.

"Oh! The name's Spek Zhio, by the way," he offered an outstretched right hand for the boy to shake, before also including the woman in his field of vision, "it's Zhio with a zh, like in treasure or prestige!"

---

Dani Stellaris Sor-Jan Skywalker

 

[Mars Raynor]

TAGS: Pal Veda | Rissk​

With some repairs of the Empress long overdue, Toshara became a necessary a port of call for Mars Raynor. He'd taken to the local cantina for a breather when all the holoscreens of the establishment switched to the long anticipated Tosharan Junk Belt Circuit. For hours now, the pre-show of the race had enthralled Mars as he eagerly waited for the start.

Time passed him by in a blur. Chairs were moved, tables were shifted, outlaws and crime lords poured in, and the day turned into night when a rough hand shook him off his trance.

"Aluka marake vu dali, eka eka." came the gruff voice of a Weequay.

"Huh?" Mars blinked in response."

"Aluka marake vu dali, eka eka!" the Weequay repeated and Raynor finally assimilated the heavily accented Sriluurian.

"Buy in? What buy in--oh."

Somehow, he had completely missed that his table was long gone, replaced with a sabacc table. Strangers stared at him, cards already in their hands. Angry Gamorrean snouts loomed behind them, pointed straight at him.

"Uh... how much?" hardly much of a choice now.

"Talfek hurlana kes."

"A THOUSAND?!"

A snout oinked from the shadows.

"Okay, here, here." he plucked a hand inside his spacer jacket and reluctantly pulled out five two-hundred chips, then handed them over to the Weequay.

A pair of cards were slid in his direction. The game began.

--
OOC/: I know there's a fun loot table, but if y'all interested we can supplement it with a 1k UC bet each. Winner takes the pot.

 

[Pal Veda]

Rissk Mars Raynor

“As I live and breathe, if it ain’t my favorite reptilian bounty hunter!” Pal chuckled, his demeanor slightly exaggerated from the spice. “Looks like you found someone to stitch up that hole in your chest, eh?” Last time he’d seen Rissk, the Trandoshan was bleeding out from a knife jammed straight into his sternum by a Mandalorian merc. That was fun. They needed to do it again sometime.

Pal took note of the other man at the table, obviously a bit out of it, half-arguing with the Weequay security. But he managed to come up with a thousand-credit buy-in for the first round, so he wasn’t just some drunk that had stumbled in. Maybe he was putting on an act to throw off the competition. Didn’t matter. Pal would take his money regardless.

Digging out his own credits, he handed over a thousand in exchange for a pair of cards. Before taking a peek, he looked around the table, watching Rissk and Mr. Aloof for any telltale signs. Then he started questioning his own perception of reality, dopamine levels still abnormally high and thoughts a bit disjointed. I better just play my own cards for now. Always a good strategy, right?

He slid his cards a bit closer and turned up the corners, taking stock of his hand. Time for some Sabacc!

 

[Lossa Aureus]

Toshara, Outer Rim Territories
Wayward Jumpsuit and Armor
Lightsaber, Turmoil, Concealed Blaster, Nasty-Stabby, Dual Broken Core Daggers
Skiptown

​

Ealier
The Outer Rim was seeing an uptick in activity. And certain crowds always found their way to such activity in her memory.

Unless someone that knew her was present, she was an unknown beneath her armor and helmet. Keeping her identity hidden for the time being as she tried to search for the leads she needed to fulfill her end of a bargain. It helped that she had nicked a new to her jacket from the being that had politely informed her about the meeting place to boot. Her stride was slow, careful, assessing each being that passed her by. The system in her helmet caught each face to examine in more detail later.

For now, reading the body language of each and slowly finding those mirroring her own careful study.

Bodyguards for someone she'd guess. Near enough the first one she had missed had made a lazy effort to keep an eye on her. And given some sort of signal to another.

Passing her off to the next as she made a circle around the booths. Honing in on the someone she had been told to meet. A hand waved her over, a Rodian surrounded by others as she stepped into the circle, not yet interrupting the atmosphere of fun. Met with a myriad of faces that looked her up and down as the Rodian nodded to themselves before pointing at her.

"You been asking about a certain someone. I might know where that certain someone be." The words buzzed even through the helmets translation system, tilting their head as if seeing something about her. "But, you don't look like the type I should giving info, huh? Maybe, you prove you belong around here?"

Present - Hangar - Skiptown
Dani Stellaris Sor-Jan Skywalker Spek Zhio

”Stupa. Fething. Sleemo." Each word passed through the helmet speaker with a sharp hiss that came out as static at the end. The voice more robotic than organic as her hands busied themselves checking through the vectoring systems of her engines.

Having to show her resolve to be in the Outer Rim according to the Rodian information broker by taking part in this race. Not that she minded entirely. Was just a bother she couldn't slide credits his way instead of spending time speeding through space. Competing with others. Maybe shooting at the other competitors while she was at it. But a bother no less as the spanner clicked finally in her hand.

Now sure each system was well within clearance as she shifted and rubbed her exposed hands against a rag pinned beneath her leg.

Others were starting to gather as she slipped the armored gloves back on and observed the ships gathering. A starfighter, likely to be well ahead of motley pack no doubt had seemed the first arrival besides herself. An interesting looking starfighter had been second on the scene, and likely did very well for itself in atmosphere with all the wing-foils it had protuding from it.

A YT-series had arrived just a bit ago, and looking like it had just ejected itself from the scrap heap to boot. Her eyes had settled on it longer than the others, wondering how far it would make it as the captain of the vessel appeared.

Another zeltron.

Thankfully hidden behind her helmet, the deep frown at potentially being recognized had her reining in her own pheromones to the point of complete absence. Keeping a wary eye on the man as she gathered up her tools and moved towards the cargo pod of her own ship.

"Gonna make someone crash today. Gonna make an asteroid... smash... today?” Pausing on the ramp as she tried to figure out the next part of her rhyme.

 

[Rissk]

Mirogana, Toshana
The Table
- Pal Veda - Mars Raynor - Open -
​

Rissk chuckled at Pal, waving a careless hand. That was right, he had been considerably more stabbed, when they last saw each other. "Nah. I'm T'doshok. We heal quick, and we heal clean." And he didn't exactly want to blow his share of the score on a doctor's visit so soon.

As the cards were slid in front of him, the Trandoshan pinned them down with a clawed finger. He took the chance to scope out one of the other participants at the table. Another human, darker hair, obviously a little distracted. The bounty hunter pursed his lips, showing a bit of concern. "You doin' alright, ssstranger?"

Rissk peeked at his cards, and tried his best not to squawk in surprise.

 

[Mars Raynor]

TAGS: Pal Veda | Rissk​

"You doin' alright, ssstranger?" asked a voice from the table. Mars peeped over his cards, meeting the curious gaze of a Trandoshan. The reptilian seemed far... smaller than the usual representatives of his species. Interesting.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m good. You?” he replied with an honest smile, addressing both the Trandoshan and the rest of the table as his eyes flicked over the other players.

They all had the look of seasoned sabacc pros—like they’d played their whole lives. Daily. Maybe even while in the refresher.

And he? The occasional card enjoyer? He was somehow supposed to win here or say goodbye to a nasty amount of credits. Or his face, if he chose to just leave. Courtesy of the snouts lurking about the table.

“Hit me.” he told the dealer and a card was swiped in his direction. Raynor picked the card, and nearly exploded into laughter as he discarded one card off his hand for the newly dealt one.

--
Initial hand: 3 & 6
First round hand: 6 & 6 (after swapping the 3 with the 6 from the new roll)

 

[Pal Veda]

What a crappy hand. Six and three. Maybe a six and five were worse? Whatever, it was just the first round. Pal‘s eyes went back to the other players. He had no idea how to read a Trandoshan in Sabacc. His dealings with them were usually more violent, and the only expressions he really recognized were rage and pleasure. Maybe expressions was the wrong term — rage and pleasure basically looked the same. Wicked smile, long tongue, licking lips. He found himself licking his own lips as he was lost in his thoughts. Maybe a little too much spice?

Pal took a sip of his drink then reached into his jacket. Before he could even clear his pocket, he felt a strong Weequay hand on his shoulder. “Hey, hey!” he exclaimed, “Calm down!” He slowly withdrew a small container, carefully showing it to the enforcer. “Just a little nic-pouch. It helps me concentrate.” The hired security squeezed, then released with a light shove, warning Pal that he wasn’t playing around. The smuggler opened the container and popped one of the small pouches into his mouth, enjoying the immediate flavor while waiting on the slight cognitive enhancement to kick in. Maybe it would bring him out of the clouds a bit. Undeterred by the Weequay, Pal turned to him and said, “Grab me another beer while you’re up, eh?” The enforcer was obviously not impressed with the joke, but Pal noticed a waitress nod and head toward the bar to fetch another drink.

Mr. Aloof took another card, and Pal noticed an obvious shift in his demeanor, confirmed by his discarding of one from his original deal. “Get what you were looking for?” he asked sarcastically. Pal was a talker. You start talking early, then it’s less noticeable when the nerves hit and make it harder to hold your tongue. But he also wanted this stranger to start moving his mouth to get a better read on him.

Pal turned to the dealer and motioned for another card. Not bad, but not great. He combined it with the three and discarded the six into the burn pile.

——
Original hand: 3 + 6
New hand: 3 + 1

Rissk Mars Raynor

 

[Inhye Oh-chai]

An even dozen speeder bikes were parked outside the stables.

As many people plus a few passengers were inside the homestead about twenty five meters away. The lights in the living room and kitchen on the first floor illuminated the cool Adras night like a gigantic glowbug's thorax, warm golden light shining out of clear windows against the near-pitch dark. People—Human, Near-Human, and Non-Human—milled around in the warmth of inside. A wide holoscreen hanging on a wall played the pre-race coverage from Toshara. Across the room, a fire crackled behind the iron grate of a wood stove.

"C'mon, Hye, it's just a little fun," said one of the spacers in attendance, leaning back against one of the kitchen counters. His words had an ever-so-slight slur to them; Inhye wasn't sure if it was the drink or simply his natural tendency. Both were plausible. He was on his third beer if she had been counting correctly. That in an of itself didn't bother her. What did was how he was the guest of one of her work acquaintances, yet referring to her like they were old friends.

She wrapped a rectangle of dried seaweed over the bottom edge of one of the rice balls that still needed it. "I gamble with tilth, not talons," she replied, turning to him with a smile.

"...What?"

A Duros came up behind the first spacer and draped his arm over his friend's shoulders. "Leave our gracious host alone, Olin." Before he lead Olin away, he mouthed, "Sorry."

With a sigh, Inhye turned back to the platter. She just finished wrapping the last jumeokbap when the doorbell rung. She slid the towel off her shoulder to wipe off her hands, then made her way to the front door.

Aerin Denno​

 

[Eaton Waters]

Objective III

To say he was bothered by this world was only minorly true. Eaton was a son of aquatic worlds. Its where he felt the most competent and confident. He could make Toshara work if that was where the Spacers’ Alliance was going to be, hell, he’d even fall into line and make use of his skills for the group. But first things first, he had to prove to them, and to himself, that he was worth it. The last time he raced he wrecked his fighter, and maybe that was for the best.

He should have something a bit bigger in his line of work, anyhow.

Setting up a Niathal as a racer and blockade runner was smart. It could have some guns, but he had the plans to unload most of those. Be there to fight off a few fighters and help those that were going to be trapped under an Imperial arm. He didn’t like putting his neck out a lot, but maybe it could help him if he did? Only time would tell.

What he had that evening was a date. Not with anyone person in particular, but with an event. And stepping in, he was making sure to flash the fight smile to the right people, and to watch those that he knew to be a problem. Security, and anyone dressed too much like they’d be best used serving at a gym.

Under his jacket was a knuckler, and by his knock-off shoes was his honor blade. He was ready in case it went back, but to everyone else? He was a blonde blubreen with glasses (better to record what he was seeing), an expensive datapad, and an even more expensive drink order.

With the martini in hand, he made a slow pass of the event.

 

[Dani Stellaris]

The blonde was more than happy when she saw more people showing up to the station. She was hoping that this race was going to be a fun time. It seemed almost like the course could be haunted which was probably, mostly, not true, but Dani liked to be a dreamer. She got that from… someone. Her mother, maybe? It didn’t quite matter where right now. The woman was stepping around her fighter, and surveying the other arrivals. She’d had some experience, like maybe a few months, aboard an Alliance carrier as part of a fighter squadron and that really ran her raw, and unlike most pilots, she still looked over her shoulder each and every time a ship came in.

She liked this though, everything felt so fun and just relaxed. And all the new racers. The fighters were fun. She looked at her fighter, the Slice Hound had recently undergone a new paint job, yellow and dark green. Was it exactly the most pretty? No. But did it fill her with thoughts of sunshine and plants?

Yes, yes it did.

Anyone who knew Dani knew how important plants and growing things were to her, and she did work a good alternative fuel to her personal swoop to reduce its impact, but for her mobile-home-freighter and the Slice Hound had to run on standard fuels. But even then, she would do her best to offset what damage she did.

“Thanks, kid!” She said as Sor-Jan came over. She gave the Slice Hound a gentle pat, as Mack, her astromech tweeted something in her ear. “Rebuilt her myself! And yeah, definitely racing today! Based on yours, I think we’ll be having some real fun today!” Did this race do fighter handicaps? Some did, based on engines and space frame. And with the arrival of the Zeltrons, looked like they definitely had a race on their hands!

Sor-Jan Skywalker Lossa Aureus Spek Zhio

 

[Sor-Jan Skywalker]

Tags: Dani Stellaris | Spek Zhio | Lossa Aureus
Objective 1: Junk Belt Circuit
Location: Renpalli Station, Toshaal System

​

"She's beautiful!" Sor-Jan said, nodding with a smile. He knew firsthand just how impressive custom-built ships were. They might lack fancy chromium plating like royal Naboo ships or cutting-edge technology suites like Alliance or Imperial starfighters, but they had one thing that none of the rest had: heart. "I can't wait to see what she can do!"

Any other day, Sor-Jan would've stood right there for hours picking Dani's mind. Or, at least for however long she could stand him until his curiosity became too cumbersome to satiate. But if the young Skywalker wanted to actually join this race, he needed to shove off and find the registration kiosk. Just as he made to leave for the core of Renpalli Station, the voice of a stranger -a Zeltron pilot by the looks of him- caught the boy in his tracks.

Spek Zhio was his name, and Sor-Jan responded in kind. "Mine's pronounced like soar and John," he said with a smile.

"We were talking about the Junk Belt Circuit! It's a race around Toshara's debris field, and it's starting soon. I was going to find the kiosk where I can register my ship. That's her over there," Sor-Jan pointed. "The Xanadu Fire. And this is Dani's ship."

He wondered how many others would be joining them in the race. Himself, Dani, and Mr. Zhio, and the black-helmeted woman who'd just arrived and stood on her landing ramp make four already... this was going to be exciting! But also tough, he reasoned.

​

 

[Rissk]

Mirogana, Toshana
The Table
- Pal Veda - Mars Raynor - Open -​

The dark-haired human responded easily enough. Maybe he'd just been a bit frazzled, was all. Rissk shrugged. "Oh, I'm just peachy. Thanks for asking." And only getting peachier, given his starting hand. "Just makin' sure you won't get all huffy when I take your money, 's'all."

He didn't know much about this card game... but he did know a one and a two was the best non-sabacc hand you could get in the game. Things were looking up, if only his luck could continue. He tried his best to get a read on the others- but just like humans were often at a loss for Trandoshan expressions, so too was Rissk awful at getting a read on humans.

Pal tried talking with the stranger again. Good. Rissk joined in, friendly despite the atmosphere, and the rough guards. "My name's Rissk. What's yours, stranger?" He procured a new card, briefly glanced at it, and smiled that sharp, enigmatic Trandoshan smiled, before throwing it back.

Initial Hand: 1 & 2
End of Round One Hand: 1 & 2

 

[Spek Zhio]

"Well Sor, that sounds exciting!" Spek remarked, with a carefree smile, "Mind if I join you? Me and Alcyone there could do for some lighter excitement, for a change!"

There were two kinds of people. Those who judged a datapad by its desktop wallpaper, and those who at least took the time to check the operating system. Analogies aside, ideally you would have the capital for both but, when having to choose between form or function, true spacers always opted for the latter over the former. Dents and outer hull damage from a recent skirmish over the skies of Bestine, would cause his ship to drag under atmospheric conditions. But, on the frictionless vacuum of space, even a tin can is able to fly, given that the proper propulsion is being provided. Aside from the style points, a nice glossy finish and a couple of fire stencils would not help in neither of the aforementioned scenarios.

However, other things would.

The sharpest eyes would be able to spot that the patchwork hull of the Alcyone was actually hyperdrive-grade titanium-chromium alloy reinforcing its durasteel, covering quadrants where a deflector ray shield would be more prone to disruption from enemy fire. Those same eyes might be able to also spot the aftermarket sublight afterburners, particularly the aft coupled fuel injectors denoting a fusion reactor thrust assisted by an acceleration motor, or the ancillary ion stream deflectors on the several starboard and portside gimbaled thrust vector nozzles, along the ship's profile. For all of its shortcomings, this and more, made the Azure Alcyone a starship well above its class in terms of speed and maneuverability. Particularly in the hands of a skilled pilot such as himself. And, although Spek Zhio would love to have the spare credits to pay for that glossy finish, her unassuming appearance, often a source of underestimation, just gave them both another edge over the competition.

Knowing this, he was not about to judge the other competitors while the gears were still in landing.

"Dani, is it? A pleasure to meet you and your wings. If you don't mind, I'm going to follow this ace here and register for the upcoming race," he placed a hand on Sor-Jan's shoulder. Spek was being amicable in earnest, without a drop of sarcasm in his tone. "Will you be joining? Losers buy the first rounds after the race!"

He looked at the young pilot and narrowed his eyes, in jest.

"Provided you're old enough to have fun!"

---

Dani Stellaris Sor-Jan Skywalker Lossa Aureus

 

[Mars Raynor]

TAGS: Pal Veda | Rissk​

The Weequay's eyes narrowed as the scoundrel across the table reached for his jacket, his temper already running hot. But instead of a weapon, out came a nic-pouch. Then when that problem was resolved, the guy grinned Mars' way, tongue dripping with sarcasm. "Get what you were looking for?"

Mars blinked, wondering if he'd given himself away. Was his face really that transparent? He must've looked too pleased with his cards, despite the tired, slouched posture of a man who'd spent the last twelve hours marinating in cantina smoke. He felt his mouth twist into a smile he didn't even know he had.

"Find out, eh?" Mars flashed the guy an honest grin. The 1,000 Underworld credits buy-in had rattled him at first, but the nerves wore off fast. He was back—his usual, easygoing self.

The Trandoshan, who'd been mostly quiet, chimed in, "Oh, I'm just peachy. Thanks for asking. Just makin' sure you won't get all huffy when I take your money, 's'all."

He introduced himself as Rissk. Mars couldn't help but smirk. A Trandoshan named Rissk playing sabacc? It felt a little too on the nose. Maybe it was fake, but who cared? Mars gave him a polite nod anyway.

Rissk asked for his name in return.

"Mars—" he started, then quickly cut himself off, eyes darting around the cantina. The place was crawling with unsavory types. No way he was saying his full name. The Hutt bounty was still hanging over him, not to mention the Alliance Marshals offering a nice sum for a tip-off. "—hyperspace explorer for hire," he finished, scratching the back of his head. Why'd he say that? He shrugged it off. Being a hyperspace explorer was still something to be proud of, bounty or not.

"What about you guys? What do you do?"

Before anyone could answer, he caught the dealer's eye. "Oh, stand," he said, lifting his hand from the cards, keeping them flat on the table. His pulse quickened just a little.

--
Initial hand: 3 & 6
First round hand: 6 & 6 (after swapping the 3 with the 6 from the new roll)
Second round hand: 6-6 (stand)