Round 2 - The Mekhala Mad Dash of 2037!

[bc_56]

Regions 90-91:

"Otto, take the helm. I need a rest."

[Affirmative. You will be alerted if the ship is in danger, or when we reach al-Miraiya]

As the autopilot takes over, Lewis pulls up databanks on his computer. He needs everything on that last hazard; after passing through the Ring of Blood with flying colors, he isn't worried about the last warzone at all. The ship cruises at a constant speed under Otto's guidance, not gaining ground, but not losing it either, avoiding the worst of the fighting along the way.

 

al-Miraya:

Finally, Lewis pulls into the final stretch; the Mouth of the Emperor. The dwarven pilot takes the helm back from Otto. "We're nearly home now, Otto."

The glittering crystals of the canyon rise high above the blocky vessel. "Pretty place. Hope the boys are ready to capture my photo finish!"

He guns the accelerator and weaves between rock formations, aiming for the final destination.

[Lleban]

MMD

 

Gas Gas Gas. Kim flooded his overclocked engine with bursts of liquid hydrogen. Dipping and diving through asteroid belts took everything his Kyongdai Cruiser had. Sometimes It was nice though, the scenery was iconic when his viewscreen wasn't plastered with adds.

 

 

 

[TheDarkDM]

The House of Fire Battlefield

Distant fusion explosions lit the night as the Lilin wove through the outer asteroids of the Medeana Expanse. Her identity as a member of the highest echelons of the House of Fire affirmed by her IFF signal, she had no fear of the guided missiles and omni-glaives of her countrymen. The defense lasers of the local insurgency, however, was an entirely different concern. Target lock warnings blinked alive through the cockpit, and Naqi'a's thrusters drove nearer and nearer the protective asteroids, skimming them like ancient legends of stones on the vanished seas of the past. Intercepting the comms signals of Alud Soom and Neon Light Illusion, she opened an intercept channel.

"I didn't think you felt fear at all after that last stunt. What are a few pirates compared to a hyperkinetic shield?"

 

The Khylosen Cluster

Approaching the territories of the blood-crazed Kylosen, Naqi'a reached at last for the newest control node in her ship. A firm press of her palm called up a new holograph display on her cockpit, as a linear rail cannon unfolded from the Lilin's underbelly. Hurtling towards the Ring of Blood, target indicators lit up the mirrored sheen of her helmet, hiding Naqi'a's wild smile. Opening a wide-band channel, she shouted an Old Imperial duelist's challenge and dove into the fray. The Lilin would soon be baptized, in blood and fire.

 

Dwarven Military Operations

The Lilin bearing the stains and scars of victory over the Kylosen, Naqi'a sped towards the final checkpoint. Stray rockets were of little concern as she prepared for a dedicated burn, and it was only fate that allowed her to notice a stray indicator on her targeting hologram. One of the ships that had relayed her signal stranded on a planetoid, with a warhead on a direct intercept course. Aborting her burn, Naqi'a spun around on an intercept vector, her rail cannon charging as she engaged in an entirely new and more lethal race. The red-shifting trail of her rail cannon preceded the comet of her drive plume, a distant explosion spelling the end of the oncoming rocket.

 

The VIP Platform

A ripple of embarrassed laughter passed between the Duke and Duchess at the ambassador's observation, Ana-Tashmetum-taklak's hand motion a practiced sign of parental surrender.

"Yes, our eldest daughter. She has ever felt more at home among the stars than in the embrace of Dur-Shalkhir, and we have humored her passions."

The Duchess' pained smile was a tapestry memorializing her defeat in Naqi'a's grand campaign to join the ranks of the Games' void racers.

"This is her first contest against the cream of Mekhala. We can only hope it does not enflame her passions to new heights."

 

Later

Awaiting an opportune moment, the Duke and Duchess eventually approach High Lady Anathe. Dipping into a bow and curtsey deeper than any granted the other attendees on the platform, the Duke uttered a traditional greeting in Old Imperial.

"May the light shine on you, High Lady. It is an honor to share your presence once more."

[Rocket Relm]

Alud And The Straightway

 

18 hours ago, BladeofOblivion said:

Show this

Hm. Another voice. A piercing shell into the solitude. Buck up, it's something, food for thought, and promises of food up ahead. Yes... lets put out a signal to chat before the grand finale.

"Anyone there? I'm probably speaking into the void, but incase I'm not, I figure it'd be nice to chat with the fellow racers. I may be too far behind though, but at the very least I won't break my losing streak."

During the Race -- The Long Straightaway, or the first Warzone (depending on who you ask)

"Bold of you to seek the attention of others.", Alud replied over comms. "Try not to broadcast your location to pirates without cause - though perhaps it will be an entertaining diversion."

 

"I have no reason to fear, but thank you for the concern, and I wish you well."

There was a certain kind of loneliness on this journey that Neon was on. The spirits of others and the streaks of the stars reminded it of what the point of the struggle was, and was worth a refreshing breath in and of itself. Plus, it's not like there was anything truly of danger on this track.
 

---

The Ring Of Blood

 

Nuclear weapons everywhere, and the squid was charging through a more direct path. Having devoured some number of the beings and having taken a nuclear blast or two, it clearly showed a spectacle of blood and rocks and everything that was flying around. Another racer on the track passed by, and they were already far behind, conveniently with the Moonsoul Cruiser serving as some distraction.

Deeper and deeper the battle went, with the propensity for getting lost seeming more apparent. Or maybe it was just a giant laser, nuclear or otherwise, messing up navigation. Regardless, adrift into the depths, the illusion went about battle as if it were a boss fight. Putting of sparks and explosions, being whittled down while making its way through the smaller individuals and fleets.

Neon Light Illusion looked back towards the race track. It was about time to end the foolishness. The feasting was fun, but there was business to attend to and enough time had been wasted in the open depths of space messing with an unknown but extremely carnage fueled species.
 

---

 

A giant fusion fission explosion filled the depths of space within the Ring Of Blood, dominoing into several others smaller explosions from the strangely fueled ships.

[Lumaeus]

Race Time

Step 1: Make Car Go Space

As soon as the the countdown reaches two, Velocipede Excelsior slams on the gas. He's played enough racing games to know that this will give him a speed boost when--woah woah wait no brake stop! The car had started moving instead of revving up, and he almost crossed the starting line. That would have been an instant disqualification, but he saved it just in--wait, shoot, it started! Go, go, go!

He's lost a bit of time, but he'll catch up. He speeds forward across the ground, moving faster and faster. In just ten seconds, he's hurtling past 70mph. Fifteen more and he's at 80. The car thudders and bounces on the rock as the speedometer moves higher and higher. 81, 82, 83...84......85............86........................87

Almost there. He looks around and realizes no one else is in sight. Is he already that far ahead?

87.5...87.6...

Almost

.8

 

 

.9

 

 

88 miles per hour! As soon as he hits that key threshold, he flips the TURBO switch, and 1.21 gigawatts of electricity course through the Oily Thunder, immediately detonating the first bombConventional, of course, don't worry about it, which sends the whole contraption hurtling into the sky. Gravity being what it is here, it goes and goes into space. Now it's time to wait.

After a fair bit, long enough to be polite about the radiation, the soon-to-be champion of champions pulls a lever and the trunk of the car pops open, and slowly, slowly a package floats out, just behind the vehicle. Now comes the fun part.

Velocipede Excelsior might not know much, might not get stuff, and might not understand things, but he has determination, which is more important than anything else. And he's determined to win. And that determines his course of action.

What's the best propulsion system in the universe? Khylokian Fusion 'sploders, probably. What's the downside? 'sploding, probably.

But what could prevent someone from 'sploding?

A chorus of conventional bombs blows up along the lower left side of the car in a deafening harmony with a twin set along the top right. This immediately sends the Oily Thunder into a barrel roll. Rotating 50 times per second is a h*ckuva headrush, but Velocipede had trained for this for literal days. At this point, his instincts are so strong that every time he faints immediately, muscle memory bashes his head against the NUKE button.

And as the Khylokian Literal Atom Bomb That Propels Ships blows up, an unconscious Velocipede Excelsior rides the wave towards sure victory.

Step 2: Space Seaweed

Velocipede Excelsior wakes up with his left side entirely shattered, his eyes crimson with broken blood vessels, and no other ships in sight. Whether it's because he's so far in the lead or so coated in kelp, who can say? Probably both, really. He's great.

But he'll have to maintain that lead. And right now, he's stationary. Luckily, he has a plan for just such a situation.

"They don't call it the Oily Thunder for nothing!" he grins, and he presses the OIL SLICK button. Immediately, like the car coats itself in an oily coating like a hagfish in mucus. "And now to slip out. That was the Oily. Here's the Thunder."

Some more bombs. Another nuke. And another loss of consciousness. No more injuries though, because the kelp did slow the barrel rollNow, whether it was raw skill, the impact of a nuke, or some kelp trawling kind soul who dragged the unconscious Excelsior from the maze, who can say? It was probably skill though..

Step 3: Glix Diplomacy

Honestly, if there were any sign of other racers, Velocipede would try cutting it closer, but they must all still be so far behind, so a few bombs in front of the Oily Thunder slow him down enough to just cruise through Parrot's Perch like a low flying ISS but instead a car. It was super cool.

Step 4: ZOOM

Velocipede Excelsior waits until well past Glix space, and then presses the ZOOM button. More barrel rolls (modified on the spot to be less bone breakingly fast, since it worked back at the kelp), more nukes. It was mad expensive, but let's be real: riding the shockwave of a big old bigbomb is fast. And even without knowing he was behind, our homeboi begins to catch up.

Step 5

: A Ring Of Blood

Velocipede Excelsior has a plan. Using Khylokian engines means that the nasty little guys (complimentary) will treat him as one of their own. And the plan works!

Which doesn't help out at all.

Harried and attacked by the nasty little guys (derogatory), the Oily Thunder jutters through the checkpoint-- increasingly speedy, reasons Velocipede, since every hole in it surely increases aerodynamism. The only saving grace of the sector is that the blood was no big deal. After all, what kind of car doesn't have windshield wipers?

Step 6: A Pit Stop

Okay, sheesh, this is getting extreme. Does anyone realize it's like a warzone out here? When he gets back, Velocipede'll tell the organizers so they can reroute everyone else. It's a good thing he's so far ahead.

Wait. What on Sansargeddit?? There's another ship nearishby. A ping on a sensor display thing that the pit crew had put in but that a real racer didn't need to use so he'd ignored it until now. Is there somehow someone else so far up ahead of the rest of the racers? On some forsaken planetoid for some reason? Well now he's gotta investigate.

A whole lot of conventional bombs later (hm, running low) and Excelsior's cruising around some nothing rock in the middle of a belt of nothing rocks. And soon enough, there's a ship up ahead. While some kinda comet burns ever brighter in the sky, Ani-Quin is down here dealing with some sorta mechanical issue. Velocipede knows exactly what to do.

The Oily Thunder pulls up next to the panicked racer, and the hood opens. Throwing a (broken, AGH!) arm over the side, Velocipede leans over at his rival and only potential equal in the race.

"Having a little trouble there?"

 

Edited February 16 by Lumaeus (see edit history)

[BladeofOblivion]

Quote

12 hours ago, TheDarkDM said:

The House of Fire Battlefield

Distant fusion explosions lit the night as the Lilin wove through the outer asteroids of the Medeana Expanse. Her identity as a member of the highest echelons of the House of Fire affirmed by her IFF signal, she had no fear of the guided missiles and omni-glaives of her countrymen. The defense lasers of the local insurgency, however, was an entirely different concern. Target lock warnings blinked alive through the cockpit, and Naqi'a's thrusters drove nearer and nearer the protective asteroids, skimming them like ancient legends of stones on the vanished seas of the past. Intercepting the comms signals of Alud Soom and Neon Light Illusion, she opened an intercept channel.

"I didn't think you felt fear at all after that last stunt. What are a few pirates compared to a hyperkinetic shield?"

7 hours ago, Rocket Relm said:

"I have no reason to fear, but thank you for the concern, and I wish you well."

There was a certain kind of loneliness on this journey that Neon was on. The spirits of others and the streaks of the stars reminded it of what the point of the struggle was, and was worth a refreshing breath in and of itself. Plus, it's not like there was anything truly of danger on this track.

During the Race -- The Long Straightaway, or the first Warzone (depending on who you ask)

"Oh? Perhaps you are more familiar with these pirates than I, as a local.", Alud replied over comms. "I had thought they might be a worthy challenge akin to the warriors of my people. Disappointing."

---

 

During the Race -- The Second Straightaway, or the Second Warzone, or even the Third Warzone (depending on who you ask), AKA Et Cetera HQ

Alud Soom knew in the back of his mind that the Kildoran had likely already reached the Mouth, but he could still see the flying battering ram up ahead on long-range sensors. He grimaced too as the strange woman from before screamed past him, and even that Velocipede character was gaining from behind. Bah. He needed an edge. Fortunately, he had one in mind - the locals of this segment of Mekhala were strange to him but he had done some reading on the InterplaNET before entering, and he knew this segment would take the racers around Et Cetera HQ, who had largely cut contact and defended their airspace from the living, the vicious ghouls.

But he had read that there was something precious to them and in short supply - Star Sand. Concentrated space dust, tricky to gather en masse. He breached their airspace with aplomb, happily taking this risky shortcut over Iris' protests. When the first warning shots whizzed by, he opened communications, leaning on the translation suite that had been installed - there was a use for it after all!

There was an easy deal to make there - they would want valuable Star Sand more than they particularly wanted him to BE dust. And he'd been gathering space dust for weeks: His ship's cabin dust filters alone had needed replacing twice, with the old ones sitting in the increasingly light cargo space where he kept food and water.

"Et Cetera," he said, "I am looking for somewhere to offload a crate of concentrated star sand. Is this the place?"

The shooting stopped, and he followed the helpdesk flowchart for a bit...until he zoomed past the landing point. Immediately the tone of the call became much more hostile, and two ships began to tail him - though they weren't shooting. Did they plan to board?

"Apologies, friends. I'll jettison it for you, no payment necessary. A pleasure doing business."

 

The airlocked crate of used filters shot off to the side, and just as he'd hoped the tailing ships chased that instead...though the shooting resumed. Too little, too late, though; he was already outside the effective range of the station's weapons, and the stunt had shaved off some time as he progressed toward Al-Miraiya once more. The finish line awaited ahead.

[EmBark]

During the Race -- Region 90, the Second Warzone

15 hours ago, TheDarkDM said:

Dwarven Military Operations

The Lilin bearing the stains and scars of victory over the Kylosen, Naqi'a sped towards the final checkpoint. Stray rockets were of little concern as she prepared for a dedicated burn, and it was only fate that allowed her to notice a stray indicator on her targeting hologram. One of the ships that had relayed her signal stranded on a planetoid, with a warhead on a direct intercept course. Aborting her burn, Naqi'a spun around on an intercept vector, her rail cannon charging as she engaged in an entirely new and more lethal race. The red-shifting trail of her rail cannon preceded the comet of her drive plume, a distant explosion spelling the end of the oncoming rocket.

5 hours ago, Lumaeus said:

Race Time

Step 6: A Pit Stop

Okay, sheesh, this is getting extreme. Does anyone realize it's like a warzone out here? When he gets back, Velocipede'll tell the organizers so they can reroute everyone else. It's a good thing he's so far ahead.

Wait. What on Sansargeddit?? There's another ship nearishby. A ping on a sensor display thing that the pit crew had put in but that a real racer didn't need to use so he'd ignored it until now. Is there somehow someone else so far up ahead of the rest of the racers? On some forsaken planetoid for some reason? Well now he's gotta investigate.

A whole lot of conventional bombs later (hm, running low) and Excelsior's cruising around some nothing rock in the middle of a belt of nothing rocks. And soon enough, there's a ship up ahead. While some kinda comet burns ever brighter in the sky, Ani-Quin is down here dealing with some sorta mechanical issue. Velocipede knows exactly what to do.

The Oily Thunder pulls up next to the panicked racer, and the hood opens. Throwing a (broken, AGH!) arm over the side, Velocipede leans over at his rival and only potential equal in the race.

"Having a little trouble there?"

Ani-Quin stared wide-eyed at the approaching warhead and sent a swear-filled prayer out into holy space. When the Lilin changed course and shot its rail cannon and took down the warhead, a flash of light going up all too close overhead, Ani-Quin cheered and threw their hands up. They turned their comms on.

"Emperor's Blessings be upon you and your House, Naqi'a! I thought I was a surefire goner. I'll have to repay you later somehow."

They let out a breath. The adrenaline subsiding, their legs felt week. When the Oily Thunder pulled up next to them, Ani-Quin just managed a wave in return.

"You could say that, mister Excelsior. It seems my ship got damaged just before the Ring of Blood and now it's full of blood in places where there shouldn't be any. My ship's not starting back up. I don't suppose you're either a stellar mechanic or have a co-pilot seat in your ship?"

 

During the Race -- at the VIP Platform

15 hours ago, TheDarkDM said:

The VIP Platform

A ripple of embarrassed laughter passed between the Duke and Duchess at the ambassador's observation, Ana-Tashmetum-taklak's hand motion a practiced sign of parental surrender.

"Yes, our eldest daughter. She has ever felt more at home among the stars than in the embrace of Dur-Shalkhir, and we have humored her passions."

The Duchess' pained smile was a tapestry memorializing her defeat in Naqi'a's grand campaign to join the ranks of the Games' void racers.

"This is her first contest against the cream of Mekhala. We can only hope it does not enflame her passions to new heights."

"One's children can be one's greatest joy even as they can be one's greatest frustration, all at once." Ambassador Yessikruz Donce smiled. "It seems a constant of the universe among the living."

She looked at the displays showing the progress and stunts of some of the racers. The announcer's voice came over the speakers, somewhat turned down to not interfere with conversation too much.

"At the very least, should her passions be enflamed by the contest, such drive furthers skill. Such drive enflames others. A great and noble quality to have. And should her passion for racing be doused, well, then she remains safe and focused on other duties. A situation where either outcome could be a victory of a sort."

Turning back to the ducal couple, she steered the conversation elsewhere.

"Speaking of victories, on behalf of the Llort Society Protectorate there is a potential agreement I would like to discuss with you, if you'd be so kind as to lend me your ear?"

[Lumaeus]

Rivals to Friends to Lovers

"Heh. Thought you might say that." Velocipede Excelsior smiles. "We've got two choices. One, we can stick around here and fiddle with that hunk of scrap until those slowpokes who think they're racers start to eat into our lead. Two, you hop into this thing and we win together. Dibs on the belt tho."

Velocipede leans over and, using his good hand, pushes open the passenger side door.

"There's just one seat, but if you don't mind getting a little cozy, we can blow this pop stand together."

SHOULD Ani-Quin choose to join Mekhala's most ungrounded racer, thing's'll get fun. If not, I guess VE still needs to get off the planet, so just ignore the speech:

"We don't have enough supplies to really get airborne and make it through the rest of the race, so we've gotta do something they always told me was impossible: the terrestrial barrel roll."

The doors lock as Excelsior pushes down on the gas. The Oily Thunder bounces and jolts across the surface of the planetoid, occasionally clearing the ground, but never high enough. Not until an almost invisible hill. The soon-to-be Champion is ready, and as soon as the car has five seconds of airtime, he hits the sequence of buttons to start the car spinning, and while in a state that can disperse the damage, he drops his penultimate nuke.

If anyone were conscious for it, it would be a heck*va 'splosion.

 

[volthawk]

Normally, heading all the way to Mekhala just to see a race would seem like a rather absurd proposition for the de facto ruler of Eilif Dhaoine, but with Giomad taking over the country's military affairs and an interesting proposition from the host country playing on his mind, Clagath had made the journey nonetheless.

Even if he hadn't, there would still be spectators from the Dhaoine present. Some of the sealga, that particular blend of adventurer, hunter and troublemaker that had scattered across the stars with the advent of Eilif Dhaoine on the world, had naturally made their way to watch the race as well - none had made it onto the VIP platform this time, although some had tried their luck bluffing that they were part of the Eilif Dhaoine delegation, but they were scattered among the common crowd of spectators and having a good time of it.

Clagath himself had only brought two of his inner circle along with him, his champions and representatives whose skills had helped cement his position at the top of the Eilif Dhaoine government and who had in turn been rewarded by him. His clothing is...rather simpler than one might expect of a man of his station - he doesn't wear the elaborate shimmering sgiath-loinn that many Dhaoine had shown off in the Arkhive's banquet a few years ago, the chitin he wears being a simpler piece of non-powered armour covering his chest with iridescent black chitin, and in turn mostly concealed behind a dark green greatcoat (it's unclear to the casual observer whether more light armour is hidden underneath), the man looking more like a general than someone in a position that was rapidly becoming something like kingship.

The two flanking him as he takes his seat in the VIP platform seem to have put a little more work into their looks, though. The woman to his right wears a full set of personalised chitincraft gear, clearly made for practicality and field use rather than having a ceremonial role but still being made with care to look cohesive and...if not beautiful to everyone, a striking piece of art in its own right - a look that's rather more striking when complemented with a bàscail head mounted on a rope slung over her shoulder, some sort of large insectoid monster with blade-like mandibles. The man to his left, meanwhile, has chosen to wear the sgiath-loinn, a shimmering and glittering coat embedded with many small iridescent scales and pieces of chitin, and unlike his counterpart chooses to not put any of his trophies on display.

For now, he doesn't actively approach anyone and instead focuses on the race with an imperious look on his face - if any of the other representatives here had business with Eilif Dhaoine, they knew where to find him.

[The Snark]

As the race's final hours approach, a boxy vessel resembling nothing so much as a shipping container with engines strapped to the side pulls in to the landing fields at al-Miraiya, well away from the canyon that marks the finish line. None of the Castaways have entered the race this year; though a few of the younger Loop-born showed an interest, the Imperial drive engines are still a scarce enough commodity that their use is strictly controlled by the Logistics and Rationing Group, which had deemed the Mekhalan Mad Dash too risky to allot a ship to. The decision was accompanied by no small amount of judgment and side-eyeing by the older Loop-born; they can't forbid the youth from risking their lives on foolish stunts, but at least this particular avenue of perilous thrill-seeking is closed off for now.

Attending the race as spectators, however, was not only permitted but encouraged. Eight Geralds, two Rhondas, a Jamie, a Tina, and a Mary-Anne/Sadie couple are here. Some are here to scope out the track in the hope that the LRG will have relaxed their grip on spacecraft by the time the next Mad Dash comes around; some are here to meet and greet their peers among the Mekhalan Elect; some are here as interplanetary tourists. All of them are looking forward to the afterparty.

[EmBark]

During the Race -- The Second Warzone

12 hours ago, Lumaeus said:

Rivals to Friends to Lovers

"Heh. Thought you might say that." Velocipede Excelsior smiles. "We've got two choices. One, we can stick around here and fiddle with that hunk of scrap until those slowpokes who think they're racers start to eat into our lead. Two, you hop into this thing and we win together. Dibs on the belt tho."

Velocipede leans over and, using his good hand, pushes open the passenger side door.

"There's just one seat, but if you don't mind getting a little cozy, we can blow this pop stand together."

SHOULD Ani-Quin choose to join Mekhala's most ungrounded racer, thing's'll get fun. If not, I guess VE still needs to get off the planet, so just ignore the speech:

"We don't have enough supplies to really get airborne and make it through the rest of the race, so we've gotta do something they always told me was impossible: the terrestrial barrel roll."

The doors lock as Excelsior pushes down on the gas. The Oily Thunder bounces and jolts across the surface of the planetoid, occasionally clearing the ground, but never high enough. Not until an almost invisible hill. The soon-to-be Champion is ready, and as soon as the car has five seconds of airtime, he hits the sequence of buttons to start the car spinning, and while in a state that can disperse the damage, he drops his penultimate nuke.

If anyone were conscious for it, it would be a heck*va 'splosion.

 

Ani-Quin considers the options. Their ship was well-made by their standards, but they also had made it largely with a box of scraps. All it would take would be one more unfortunate encounter with a warhead and they'd be done for. Naqi'a wouldn't be around to save them a second time.

"One second." They said. The grabbed their bag and everything else else loose around the cockpit they threw into it. Then they hopped out of their cockpit, opened a panel on the side of one of the thrusters, and decoupled something. Then they hopped to the Oily Thunder and scooted in next to Excelsior, bag in their lap, holding on to some device with a crystalline material in it.

"I'll need this one for my next ship." They explained. "Thanks for the assist, mister Excelsior."

They strapped in quickly as the Oily Thunder was closed up and was already underway. Ani-Quin fumbled a bit with a music player to liven things up for the final stretch of the race.

Then Velocipede Excelsior dropped a nuke.

Fraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak--!!

Edited February 17 by EmBark (see edit history)

[Lumaeus]

(Sorry, busy weekend. But since I won't get in on time, sorry, tldr is Velocipede navigates back, lands in a crash that ruins the vehicle, is shocked others got there first but it's probably because he's a Big D*rn Hero who saved AQ, and then the durat pitfolk make a comment about how it's a better result than last time, implying he's always the worst. Just wanna be in place for the finale.)

[Silent_Interim]

On 2/15/2024 at 11:35 AM, EmBark said:

During the Race -- on the VIP platform

"There is quite nothing like it, indeed," Yessikruz said, again joining the High Lady in conversation. "It is physical and competitive, yet with a different kind of violence than one sees in martial competitions. It engages your every body part, yet it also asks the most of your vehicle. Mechanical parts, electrical hardware, software programming, the team support behind the racer, the audience cheering them on, it all comes together in a climax of the heart."

She noticed the glimmer in the High Lady's eyes, similar to that wistfulness she'd seen in veteran racers past their prime, but at least they had a satisfaction to them that their careers had been glorious and ended through choice, not accident. Yessikruz wondered if there was some medical solution, but she dare not say it out loud. That would likely be improper, let alone that it might bring unnecessary pain.

Yessikruz bowed her head. "Of course, High Lady. We are most grateful of the Emperor's gifts and the guidance he provides through you and his other extensions of self."

Anathe's face does, indeed, turn wistful as she listens to the ambassador's musings on the joys of racing. "Yes... yes, quite." She seems dissatisfied somehow, though, like there is a subtle disconnect she cannot quite identify. She gives an ineloquent shrug of her shoulders. "But I serve the Emperor in the way that is given to me, not in the way I might desire. It is the most any of us can do."

Coming back to herself, she shakes her head slightly to clear it. "I thank you for your company. Please, if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to reach out to me at the Embassy; even if I cannot help directly, I am sure that I can offer advice."

On 2/16/2024 at 9:07 PM, TheDarkDM said:

Later

 

Awaiting an opportune moment, the Duke and Duchess eventually approach High Lady Anathe. Dipping into a bow and curtsey deeper than any granted the other attendees on the platform, the Duke uttered a traditional greeting in Old Imperial.

"May the light shine on you, High Lady. It is an honor to share your presence once more."

The High Lady acknowledges the Duke and Duchess with an inclining of her head, though she faces slightly in the wrong direction. One of her drones looks directly at the couple. "May the light shine on you as well, Duke and Duchess. It is my honor as well. And you honor me with your choice of tongue; it has been quite some time since I have had the opportunity to exercise it. I was sorry not to have the chance to approach you at the coronation, but my attention was... elsewhere." She turns her face directly to the Duke, and gives the impression of looking right through him through her blind eyes. "I am sure you can forgive an old woman her foibles."

[EmBark]

During the Race -- The Mouth of the Emperor

With incredible speed after death-defying acceleration, Velocipede Excelsior and Ani-Quin make it to the Al-Miraiya planetoid. Ani-Quin tells Velocipede where the Mouth of the Emperor is, but it is visible from space, not hard to miss. The checkpoint, located within the mouth, is not hard to find, but in the maze of the canyon's crevices and with sharp edges and lightning all around it's not an easy feat to make it through in one piece.

"Right! Left! Other left!" Ani-Quin shouts. "There's a diamond spike up ahead! The wall over there is thin, we can break through it! That path is more filled with lightning, do the other one! Not that one, that's where the altars are!"

They zipped through flashes of white and red and green and blue and pink and soared for split seconds through pitch black darkness of a cavern tunnel so deep down one might wonder if that was the Throat of the Emperor, before bursting out again. The flags and lights that marked the checkpoint were up ahead and they flew through, then out of the Mouth again, back to safety... for what measure of safety one could say they had at the speeds they went, with less maneuverability, punctuated by hitting the lip of the Mouth as they came out.

Smoke trailed the Oily Thunder as the finish line came into view and the butt of Alud Soom's ship just ahead of them.

"Step on it! STEP ON IT!" Ani-Quin shouted in urgent excitement. They would be disqualified, but Velocipede could still pull ahead! Foot by foot by imperial foot they gained on the Veehran prince, the nose of their ship coming into view from the sides of his cockpit.

Then they blew through the finish. One much less graceful than the other, as the ship came down and left a deep furrow in the ground.

The ship was dead.

They were not.

Ani-Quin laughed loudly as the flames rose up around them and the two of them hurriedly open the cockpit to get out. As they stand outside the wreckage, the loud voice of the announcer came over the speakers in the distance, calling out racers passing through. Ani-Quin slapped Velocipede Excelsior on the shoulder. "Welcome to the Mekhala Mad Dash!"

 

---

 

After the Race -- The Ceremony

"Thank one, thank all for coming to the Mekhala Mad Dash of 2037!" The announcer called out. "The winners are up on the scoreboard! We would like to make everyone aware that in the Mekhala Mad Dash, the most important thing is participating, the second most important thing is winning, and the third most important thing is surviving! We shall prepare the stage for our champions. In the meantime, we'll have a moment of silence for those who were lost to us..."

On the giant screen behind the announcer, and all the smaller screens throughout the venue, a list of names came scrolling by, with short clips showing their unfortunate demise.

[...]

"And with that moment over, let's go to our champions!"

The scroll still kept going, but now there were larger names imposed over it in a clearer colour and font.

"In third place, Nsott'Blihg the Glix!" A montage showed some highlights from Nsott's participation in the race, pulling in their sails for the space-kelp maze, braking just in time and just enough for the blue shields in Glic space to not obliterate him, chanting the Jy'mar mantras against claustrophobia before entering the Ring of Blood, and finally their photo finish against a Khylokian raider.

"In second place, Lewis!" A montage showed their failed attempt to break through the space-kelp maze by force, having a drink, fighting off raiders, taking a nap, and zipping through the glittering canyons of the Mouth of the Emperor.

"And in first place, our champion of the Mekhala Mad Dash of 2037, coming all the way from Veehra to show her ride and her Mad skills, it is VALUUUUUUSSS VIIIIIILE!"

Music sounded, lights flashed, flags waved and Valus Vile was invited to come onto the stage to accept the champion's belt.

The Mekhala Mad Dash Champion's Belt

 

OOC

Feel free to still add in how y'all finished, how you respond to the ceremony, and enjoy the after-party!

 

Edited February 18 by EmBark (see edit history)

[Elemental]

After the Race on the VIP Platform

The Ishtahn representative, Llewellyn Cade Silverfang, Assistant Minister of Industry, seemed completely unconcerned by the results of the race. Indeed, had been completely unconcerned with the entire race since their racing vessel and its pilot had failed to make an appearance. Fearing the worst every available Ishtahn ship had been dispatched to scour the system for signs of the lost pilot, anything that might be a clue as to their whereabouts, but nothing. No wreckage, no demands for ransom, just gone.

At least until now.

"What do you mean you're in Agbada?" Llewellyn hissed angrily into his long distance communicator as the prize was being awarded, "You found a nice little b and b by the beach? What the hell does- YOUR HONEYMOON?" – he looks up and smiles politely at a few nearby people who heard him raise his voice and then returns to trying to be quiet and failing – "We've had the fleet out looking for you! WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD JIM."