Round 6: The Mekhala-Veehra Dash of 2050!

[EmBark]

A note on Al-Miraiya's environment

The Llort Society Protectorate has based itself on the CWD-31 asteroid, more commonly called al-Miraiya d'Hayeli. When seen from other asteroids in the Mekhala belt, it appears as shining as a tiny star, a companion to distant Ophon.

This is a feature of the mirrored flats, vast fields that form the surface of al-Miraiya, a sheen of shining silica, mixed with metal and gemstone all together in some big reflective puzzle. This causes people's stay on al-Miraiya to absolutely require sunglasses or other tools or magic to prevent being blinded. They'll also need thick rubber boots or other tools or magic to prevent from being shocked, unless they never touch the ground.

The llort live in and welcome any guests in their domed residences called lightning domes, for their surface crackles with electric charges. These domes are well-insulated and only dimly lit on the inside, often just from the glow of its residents.

One large feature visible from space (to those that can withstand looking directly at al-Miraiya) is a huge, curved gap, a crevasse called the Mouth of the Emperor since time immemorial. This crevasse goes deep into the heart of al-Miraiya and is where people are officially inducted into the Society as adults.

The VIP Dome

"Welcome! Welcome honoured guests from--" Ambassador Yessikruz Donce stood at the entrance greeting new arrivals warmly. She was short for a llort, tall for a human, at 6 and a half imperial feet tall. Her eyes scanned each of them to assess them in calculation. Those from Veehra received small gifts for their collaboration. Those that had been invited to E.A.T. she directed to a private room for discussions and agreements. And those bearing weapons were requested politely to leave all but one outside the door.

The ambassador held an eye out for any representatives of Caipe Ushere. She was very interested in discussing senatorial duties with them, the Eucrus Alliance and the House of Fire, but even moreso to discuss the matter of the Grey Eminence.

---

Hecaton Karcheras Katos, the most successful llort explorer of the Society, sat in the VIP dome. There was a balcony overlooking the starting line, but the hecaton appeared to have little interest in it at the moment. There were screens to follow more detailed shots and moments in the race anyway. Many racers even let news outlets put recording equipment on their person or their ships. Some streamed it for themselves to a more personal audience for their income and fame.

Karcheras was bored.

He hadn't led an expedition in years and the Protectorate hadn't needed to do a lot of being protected either. His function at the moment was largely one of diplomacy and luxurious leisure. He didn't mind, but it didn't raise his spirits much either. He looked over to the entrance where diplomats welcomed arrivals from other Electors. He sighed, downed another gallon of wine, then rose to meet with some of them as well. Perhaps there would be one among them who had some interesting news to share or a partnership to form for new endeavors.

 

At the Starting Line

~ music ~

Ani-Quin stood with a hand over their eyes (a habit) gazing up at the stars. They were a tall human with long brown hair dressed in sleek black and brown racing gear. They had won the Dash once as a child, but lost in more recent years. Now, this interplanetary race stood to potentially make them a champion once more.

"The stars are right," they said.

"They damn well better be!" A tall green llort woman said, tossing a bag of supplies in her sleek silver spaceship. "I don't plan on dying this race. That's what bloodsports is for!"

She gave Ani-Quin a big grin and the human gave a pained smile back. They hadn't enjoyed watching bloodsports. It had made them feel queasy. Plus, they had nearly died during the last time they participated in the Mad Dash. They wondered what would be different this time around. They'd sent word to Alud Soom on Veehra about the new Dash, both in hopes he would compete and in hopes they could visit the Soom lands without getting shot down.

They paced back and forth beside their new ship, the ground crackling with every step, futile against their thick rubber boots. They adjusted their sun goggles on top of their head. They'd come in handy once it was daytime, especially when they got closer to Veehra, or on the journey back to al-Miraiya and needing to withstand its star-bright reflection.

@BladeofOblivion

 

Mekhala Mad Dash participants from the Llort Society Protectorate

Ani-Quin (human, they/them), in a spaceship resembling an closed metal shell pulled by six thrusters. There is additional shielding and small anti-missile defences built into it.

Guyineber (llort, she/her), in a shining ship with a sleek tip and a back that opens into a seven-pointed starburst shape with green flame thrusters.

Additional note: LSP racers will always need to take the worst option for rolls in any stretch of the race except the last one.

Mekhala-Veehra Dash mechanics

The race starts in region 88, Al-Miraiya.

Mekhala-Veehra Dash: a twist on the Mekhala Mad Dash where racers have to race from al-Miraiya to Veehra and back. Racers have to reach a checkpoint near Veehra, show that they have a container full of Veehran sand, and return with it to al-Miraiya. Since the race goes so far, it is estimated to currently take 60+ standard imperial days, so racers are advised to bring plenty of supplies, especially if they cannot re-supply on Veehra.

• First stretch (to Veehra): Roll 2d6 + half Econ or Int (full if using a ruler or heir) for the stretch to Veehra, +1 if using any one (1) civic tech that gives bonuses to exploration or investigation, -1 if the racer is not a native of Veehra.

• The Pickup: Roll 2d6 + half attribute (full if using a ruler, heir or Commander) or 2d6 + WTU Rep to pick up or fill up a container full of sand.
  • Racer must pick a desert region to get the sand from (57-65, 69, 72-75).
  • If they hit TN 12, they successfully pick it up!
  • If they do not hit TN 12, they may retry in a different region. They must pick a different option for their roll.
  • Options for rolls:
    • half Dip for a region from a country to which the racer is native to OR their country is formally allied with (through a treaty or sharing an Embassy);
      • +1 if using any one (1) civic tech OR Artifact OR religion size bonus OR anything else that gives a bonus to any Diplomacy attribute roll.
      • racer may roll 2d8 if their country has a Cultural Identity for any Diplomacy attribute action.
    • half Mil for a region from a country that is hostile to the racer OR if picking it up in an active warzone, but if you roll lower than 12, the racer dies or is kidnapped by locals (racer's player decides);
      • +1 if you have any one (1) Military tech you have that gives a bonus to Tactical Maneuvering or battles.
      • +1 if using an Artifact OR religion size bonus OR anything else that gives a bonus to any Military attribute roll.
      • racer may roll 2d8 if their country has a Cultural Identity for any Military attribute action.
    • half Econ if the racer's country has a Trading Post or Mercantile Support in the region or a Trade Route with the country that owns it;
      • +1 if using any one (1) civic tech OR Artifact OR religion size bonus OR anything else that gives a bonus to any Economy attribute roll.
      • racer may roll 2d8 if their country has a Cultural Identity for any Economy attribute action.
    • full Econ if the racer's country sent Treasure or tech to that country last round or is doing so this round;
      • +1 if using any one (1) civic tech OR Artifact OR religion size bonus OR anything else that gives a bonus to any Economy attribute roll.
      • racer may roll 2d8 if their country has a Cultural Identity for any Economy attribute action.
    • half Faith if the racer shares the region's majority/sole faith or owns the Media support;
      • +1 if it is an organized faith native to Veehra.
      • +1 if using any one (1) civic tech OR Artifact OR religion size bonus OR anything else that gives a bonus to any Faith attribute roll.
      • racer may roll 2d8 if their country has a Cultural Identity for any Faith attribute action.
    • half Int if they do it secretly without involvement of any locals, but if you roll lower than 12, the racer is caught by suspicious natives and cannot continue the race;
      • +1 if using any one (1) civic tech OR Artifact OR religion size bonus OR anything else that gives a bonus to any Intrigue attribute roll.
      • racer may roll 2d8 if their country has a Cultural Identity for any Intrigue attribute action.
    • WTU Rep if picking it up in a region with a WTU base.
      • +1 if using any one (1) civic tech OR Artifact OR religion size bonus OR anything else that gives a bonus to any attributes the WTU specializes in (Buyouts, Resisting Buyouts, Interacting with Mercantile Supports, Exploration, Colonization).
      • Racer may roll as if they had a score of Economy 9 for the final stretch of the race as the WTU helps them out.
    • if the racer is of a country formally allied with the Llort Society Protectorate, or shares an Embassy or Trade Route with them, they may pick up sand in region 75 and roll using LSP's half Econ (+4)
  • -1 to any type of roll if the racer does not have Dust Hardening tech.

• Final stretch (to al-Miraiya): Roll 2d6 + half Econ, Faith or Int (full if using a ruler or heir) for the stretch back to Mekhala, +1 if using any one (1) civic tech that gives bonuses to exploration or investigation, +1 if rolling Faith if the racer is of the Imperial Cult faith, -1 if the racer is not a native of Mekhala.
• Points:
  • You get 2 points for every roll that hits a TN of 12.
  • You get 1 point for every roll that is a Great Success (18+).
  • You lose 1 point for every Pickup roll that doesn't hit a TN of 12.
  • You get 1 point if you rolled the highest in the first stretch.
  • You get 2 points if you rolled the highest for the pickup without needing a retry.
  • You get 3 points if you rolled the highest for the final stretch.
  • You lose 1 point for every roll in a post where you don't describe which techs, Artifacts, religion size bonuses, Cultural Identities, etc. you are using for that roll AND how those are being used. (You may list them in a little OOC note and that will be fine! The post should ideally still feature description of how the racer makes the best use of them, that'd be more fun to see how inventive you get with them. But that is not required.)
  • Most points wins the race!
  • If there's a tie, the winner of the last stretch wins.
  • If there's still a tie, the one who rolled with a lower stat on the last roll wins. (So a +3 Dip would win over a +10 Faith.)
• The winner receives THE MEKHALA MAD DASH CHAMPIONSHIP BELT! (With special Veehran customization.)

 

Post-Race After-Party Banquet

???

 

OOC

The race will officially start in a few days! You will be free to make the rolls for any and all stretches of the race after that in the days and posts to follow. Until then, feel free to describe your arrivals, banter at the starting line, diplomacy at the VIP Dome, etc. Enjoy! And stay dashing!

 

Edited April 9 by EmBark (see edit history)

[bc_56]

Of course the dwarves have returned. They love the races, and they wouldn't miss this for the world. Their champion got 2nd in the last Mad Dash, and with new upgrades to his ship, his crew is sure he'll have better luck this time.

Lewis Norris directs the pit drones to lower the bulky dwarven vessel to the starting line. "Easy does it now. Don't scratch the paint." Judging by the enlarged cargo space at the rear of the ship and the thrusters even larger than before, the engineers have been hard at work modifying it for the new format. The dwarf's spacesuit is highly decorated with his numerous sponsors' logos, advertising all manner of products from around Dwarven space. His ship too bears these identifying marks. "Right! Set 'er right there, boys. Perfect." The veteran racer admires his craft. This time he'll succeed for sure.

VIP Dome

A pair of notable dwarves arrive here as well. Leading the way is the Chief Executive of the Industrial Coalition himself, Hammond Durham. He looks like he's done well for himself, having gained some weight and possessing many new decorations on his spacesuit. Following behind him is a younger dwarf with slate-grey hair and beard. He seems to be carefully observing everything that transpires.

The Chief Executive nods politely to the ambassador. "We'll be wanting the EAT lounge, which way?"

[EmBark]

The Starting Line

@bc56

There is a crowd gathered in the open public domes near the starting line, and from the stands there comes an uproarious cheering as Lewis Norris arrives at the starting line.

"LE-WIS! LE-WIS! LE-WIS!" The crowd chants his name. With Valus Vile reportedly occupied on Veehra with her military duties, Lewis is by far the favourite to win the race according to many. There are llort wearing fake beards and shirts with various logos and prints on them from the Dwarven planetoids. One of them probably is not aware that his shirt says "BARBECUE FUCKS, DRINK PETROL YOU CAT" in another language, like a bad tattoo chosen just based on vibes. They clearly don't care. They're here to cheer on their new champion.

 

The VIP Dome

Ambassador Yessikruz Donce bows before Hammond Durham as he arrives with his entourage.

"Welcome, honoured Chief Executive. The EAT lounge is this way. Allow me--"

"--allow ME to personally escort you, honoured Chief Executive." Karcheras Katos interjects. He makes no attempt to look at the llort ambassador with whom he's worked so often. The dwarves have arrived and that means this is officially his kind of party now. Yessikruz takes a step back. The line her mouth turns into makes it clear she's not pleased, but she makes no move to stop the hecaton. Fine, there are others that can use her more delicate attention.

"We made sure to stock the lounge with the best whiskey." Karcheras begins as he walks with the Chief Executive. "Although if you want to try Petrol Barrel Moonshine, I've got some vials too."

Judging by his tone, the latter comment seemed a joke. The hecaton knew he should not say such things to most political figures. However, with the dwarves... it was always worth a try.

[bc_56]

Starting Line

Lewis grins at the assembled crowd through the helmet of his spacesuit. It feels good to be a fan favorite. He taps his headset mic. "Ready to broadcast, Otto?" [Affirmative.]

"Hello, Al-Miraya!" Ever the showman, Lewis waves his arms to his fans. His helmet radio broadcasts his words out to the crowd. "Win or lose, we're going to have a great race for you tonight! Who's ready to rock?!" He pauses a moment. "I can't heeeaaaar yooouuu! WHO'S READY TO ROCK?!!!"

He's fully intending to give the race everything he's got, but he's much less assured in his success than the fans are; the competition has gotten better since

 

VIP Dome

"Ah, good to see you again," The Chief Executive greets the hecaton gladly. "Thanks for the warm welcome. Let me introduce you to my successor: Martin Cooley." He gestures to the younger dwarf. "I've heard of the stuff. I'm sure a sample couldn't hurt." With a name like "petrol barrel" it's probably not good, but the dwarves like their brews strong. "Even in such a short time, Tekhum has changed a lot. I hear the House of Brimstone is testing long-range craft to reach the outer planets?"

[Featherscale]

The Combined Commonwealth of Glix 

Chif'Blak was a temperate, moderate Glix.  He was not a Slingidite extremist like Snimt, an iconoclast like Glim, a libertine like Rofl, or mighty like The Hammer. He was just an elderly Worker lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. 

And no one could fault him.  He brought food for hatchlings and gravity for the poor.  He was a point that the rule of law could coalesce around when Snimt had his breakdown. 

But... but... he wasn't exciting.

He would show them.  For once, in his long, dull life, he would shine. 

He carefully studied the rules, flaunting Slingidite traditions regarding intent versus meaning.  He contracted one of the dire Battle Lawyers under the Suzereignty of The House of Fire, to ensure there was not some human misunderstanding on translation.  He sought out an Etceteran clerk-lich to offer a second opinion.

When they all came up the same, he submitted a point of clarification to Al-Miraya.  

The answer was unambiguous.   A vessel needed to have one pilot and no crew.  Scale and cargo were not addressed. The Raum team that entered previously were hyper-minimalist, not even offering a sealed cockpit. 

Chif'Blak decided to err in the other direction.

He double checked with the Elder Brother of Blak, and selected a Barracks that was serving as an administrative hub.  

Then he carefully, with clear airgapping the controls, and a dedicated command module, built a spaceship around it.

A serious bureaucrat like Chif couldn't harry off for half a year to be in a race.  But... he could take his work with him.

And so, the Blak Comet was wrought. 
 

 

The VIP dome

A Herald, with the signature top hat and the typical rotary flying harness, floats, as though there were no gravity. It is a mark of the power of his psi that no one noticed him enter.

 

"I speak for the Outer Duma and Chif'Blak, their head. I speak for a plurality of the Inner Duma, as well."

 

"We Glix are concerned about Coedd and deeply interested in your project. We are willing to share with you that, after consulting with various Mekhalan governments, we have reached a compromise. Those of our population effected by the outreach of Coedd and backing their irredentist agenda will get their wish. They can go home. The rest of the universe belongs to Slingid, in his persona as The Emperor, or The Primarch, the Bard, the Progenitor, or whichever name we choose to identify the force which drives progress."

Edited April 9 by Featherscale (see edit history)

[Frostwander]

VIP Dome
Queen Chalise leads her contingent into the VIP dome. She walks as usual with measured steps, clearly practiced and rigidly steady despite the difference in gravity from her homeworld. Just behind her glides Magister Sage Angé Jénou, the head of Lyceam Ichroma and of magical development in Caipe Ushere. The magister takes a more dainty pace, and those paying close attention may note her boots do not quite touch the floor, as if she finds the prospect of getting dust on them distasteful. Various functionaries, assistants, and a single cavalier accompany them but remain unobtrusive to the assembled guests unless called on.

The Usheret queen greets Ambassador Donce with a cordial smile and a nod. "We are grateful for your invitation. We look forward to this opportunity to speak more directly on matters of the Senate and the E.A.T., and to this upcoming entertainment." One of the functionaries presents a small case with several bottles of fine vintage wine, a personal token of appreciation for the ambassador; a second case also rests nearby to be shared among the VIP attendees.

A few minutes into the conversation, the tap of boots announces a new presence. She wears a white flight jumpsuit and gloves, a faint radiance of electronics glowing within the fabric. The suit is nearly skintight, hugging her figure except for the addition of a vivid red skirt draped from her utility belt to just above her knees, and a long vibrorapier hanging from one side. A small red heart over one breast of the flightsuit matches the skirt. The woman's face is youthful and cheery, a hint of rose on pale chicks, and her wavy copper tresses sway loosely as she saunters into the VIP area.

She struts directly up to stop at Queen Chalise's side, looking up to the Ambassador's face. Her red-stained lips curl in a flirtatious smile as she is introduced, "This is Lady Charyti d'Partout. She has been making something of a name for herself in Verglass and elsewhere lately, and is here to enter the competition."

The redhead gives a flourishing bow, "A pleazure to meet you. The crew is already getting the Peregrine ready," she indicates one of the screens, focused on a sleek cutter decorated in pink and red. "I simply had to come in to meet our hosts before we began. Anything less would be uncivilized."

Charyti holds out her hand to take that of the ambassador, then lifts it to her lips and plants a genteel kiss on the back. "And I would hate to have missed meeting you."

Starting Line

The PEREGRINE is a small vessel, with a rose-and-heart emblem on one side of the cutter hull and a bird of prey painted on the other above the vessel's name. Thrusters adorn the back, while retractable fins on either side allow for maneuvering and deploying of solar sails. A shaded canopy on top gives the pilot a three-hundred-and-sixty degree view from the cockpit, which adjoins the single narrow cabin and storage space. At most the vessel could accommodate a flight crew of three; in this competition, it will be Lady d'Partout alone. 

Several mechanics and engineers work to complete last-minute tests and checks at the starting line as Charyti descends from the VIP box. Several utility drones give their greenlights and ready tones before inserting themselves into seamless slots in the hull custom-fitted to them. The maneuvering fins whirr and shift through thirty different positions. Primary and secondary fuel lines are examined, and internal controls are primed for liftoff.

Charyti struts across the field, taking advantage of the lower-than-Sansar gravity to leap up the prow of her ship to the open cockpit. She unfastens her swordbelt, placing the rapier into a fastener in the cockpit and lifting a helmet from the pilot's chair. The helm matches her flightsuit, white with a red heart emblem on one side, and a transparent seal in the back allows her red hair to still be visible once donned. Standing on the edge of the cockpit, she turns to the other racers, arms sweeping out as she bows elegantly, then waves at the crowd and the camera drones. With an almost preternatural sense of timing, she turns to one camera just as it focuses in on her, winks, and raises a hand to blow a kiss to the onlookers.

[EmBark]

The VIP Dome

@bc_56

Hecaton Karcheras Katos greets Martin Cooley warmly. He fishes a few vials out of a breast pocket and hands some to the Chief Executive, keeping one for himself.

"Tekhum is brimming with renewed purpose, I say." He says. "The House of Brimstone is indeed working on such an invention. I believe the mere hint of our desire for exploration into the outer orbits may have catalyzed their engineers' ingenuity. The House of Brimstone is known for Seeing what some others cannot. A most valuable ally. And as such, the same has sowed the seed for the Exploration Alliance of Tekhum. I drink to that. Cheers." He raises his vial and downs it, shivering as the taste violates his being and his lime-green light briefly sputters out his back in a flame-like pattern.

---

@Featherscale

Ambassador Yessikruz Donce inclines her head to the Herald of the Glix.

"On behalf of the Protectorate, I'm glad for your outreach, Herald." She says. "I hope the Glix can resolve this internal dispute peacefully. We have a private room reserve for discussions for the Exploration Alliance of Tekhum. If you'd care to make any points of address there, I'm sure others are more than interested in hearing you out. I can have one of my attendants guide you."

She waves one of them over, who brings refreshments for her and the Herald and then bows upon being told to lead the Herald to the conference room.

---

@Frostwander

At the arrival of the Usheret queen, Yessikruz bows deeply. "Honoured Queen, I am grateful you would grace us with your presence here. May your vinyards be ever bountiful. Consul Hanyeo has more than once remarked that we should invite those of Caipe Ushere more often, even if only for the tasteful gifts you bring."

The ambassador smiles as she accepts the gift of wine. A prized good. She'd make sure to rub it in Karcheras' face later, before offering to share some with him. What else were friends for?

"Yes, the acceptance of my Consul into the Senate has been a topic of much discussion and elation here on al-Miraiya. There was of course no insult meant to your person or Elect. We had not expected the position of Grey Eminence to change. With that in mind, however, my Consul intends to make the best use of it that we can. Your advice as a veteran in the position would be of value greater than the finest crystal weave."

---

The arrival of Lady Charyti d'Partout shakes things up a bit. Few racers are so closely associated with any of the VIPs that they enter the VIP dome, and even beyond that any of the racers naturally draw attention. The Lady is by no means an exception, quite the contrary. The ambassador inclines her head at their introduction. "How do you fare, Lady d'Partout? I am ambassador Yessikruz Donce. I, ah--"

At the Lady's bow and the kiss placed upon her hand, the ambassador finds herself with a sudden affliction of speechlessness. The light glowing in her eyes and the crevices of her horns increases just enough in intensity that those paying attention might notice it.

"I'm... a pleasure. To make your acquaintance as well, Lady d'Partout. I hope your flight with the Peregrine will be most swift and civilized."

 

Starting Line

The crowd goes absolutely nuts over Lewis' crowd work. His helmet broadcast amplifying him to the audience forms an intensely close parasocial bond between them. It easily attracts the attention of other racers too. Ani-Quin looks over at Lewis and grins with a nod of approval. They've seen Lewis' skills first-hand the last time they participated in a Dash. They're eager to try to beat them this time around.

---

When the Glic and Usheret ships arrived, Guyineber took a deep breath.

"More racers arriving. It's starting to feel more real." She said. This was the first time she'd participate in a Dash. Despite her boisterous personality, she remained a lot less cool than Ani-Quin was. Certainly when she remembered their story about almost dying in a warzone and being saved by a nuke. The news from Veehra about active wars and rebellions there did not ease her spirits.

The Glic ship appeared highly unusual. She was curious how far it would get in the standings.

The Usheret ship was much smaller in comparison. More like her own. But with a much more confident racer. Guyineber laughed nervously when Lady d'Partout bowed at the racers and the audience, and she gave a little salute in return as a form of greeting.

Why am I so nervous? I'm one of the most competent flyers there is. She thought to herself as she opened the cockpit of her own ship. But not with a ship. Just on your own power. Something not possible for an inter-orbit Dash.

Emperor's shins, she was starting to sweat.

[zabbarot]

The VIP Dome

The delegation from Kish arrived onboard the Archmage's personal flagship, Gift of Light Shatters Ignorance. The golden pyramid unseated from the massive jet black palm of the the stylized ship to float gently down and dock with the VIP Dome. A dozen merchants and magi spilled out and conducted sufficient fanfare for the arrival of the Archmage. It had been nearly a decade since their last public appearance off Kish. Their face was gaunt. Their hands were nearly skeletal. It would seem that they was wasting away, and yet the air around them hummed with power. The fire in their sockets flared are they looked around the room.

 

 

"We have prepared a demonstration," the mages voice was soft, but cut through the room. They raised one hand and projected an image of the prototype racing ship into the air above their retinue, "A racing ship has been retrofitted with a reignited thaumonuclear reactor core. This is one of the ancient engines maintained by the core seers of the House of Brimstone in the lost age of exploration. We have rediscovered the ancient magic, and reforged the enchantments. This ship will win your paltry race."

 

The merchant-captains in their retinue smiled. The boss had a certain way of drumming up business.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Starting Line - A bit later

Divine Fire Scours the Unworthy was a small ship built around a core clearly meant for a much larger ship. The core shined like Ophon and a mock solar system circled the ship as part of an intricate spell circle that warded off harm and pulled it through space on a wave of warped materium. The cockpit was an empty room of smooth black metal. The Archmage hovered alone in the center of the room. From there they stared directly into the open core of the ship, working quiet incantations to sooth the miniature sun inside. It was ready to race. It wanted to race. Only the Archmage's will kept it from burning through the void before the race even started.

Edited April 11 by zabbarot (see edit history)

[Elemental]

The VIP Dome

Llewellyn Cade Silverfang hadn't been to Mekhala for thirteen years when he as a young assistant Minister of the Crown and had to handle the disappearance of the Ishtahnos's chosen racer and most skilled test pilot only to find out that he'd eloped, with a pirate of all things! To say it was embarrassing was quite the understatement and he'd slunk back to Veehra before the party had even started. This time though, things would be different. He was the full Minister of Industry now and he'd made damn well sure that their new racer, Elias Rutherford High Mountain got to the starting line at least! He takes one last look at the staging area to make sure Elias hadn't run off with anyone and then steps into the dome. He wears a stylish black suit in the Ishtahn style with a heavy fur-lined coat of black aurochs leather over top. Around his neck he wears a neckerchief of white, his lower face is covered by a scarf of the same with a simple grey pattern woven into it and of course he wears sunglasses so that the brilliance of the Mirror Flats doesn't blind him.

He nods his head politely to Ambassador Yessikruz Donce and holds out a hand for them to shake. "The people of Ishtahnos once again thank you for the invitation to compete in the Mad Dash. This time we have managed to actually get a racer to the start line," he says, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder to make sure that yes, Elias was still there.

The Starting Line

Elias watches with some consternation as his pride and joy, the Eclipsing Eagle, was moved into position at the starting line. Were it just a stock standard high speed courier fresh out of the royal shipyards he wouldn't care so much, but the Eagle had undergone extensive modifications, some of which he hadn't tested or told anyone about and so each slight jostling caused him to wince. Once it was safely down he approached for the pre-flight checks, pausing to wipe a mark off the hull plating.

In appearance it was an unremarkable vessel, about twenty metres in length, sleek and aerodynamic for atmospheric flight. The glossy black of the hull plating gave it the appearance almost of a knife or spear and silver ornamentation does an excellent job of hiding any joints in said plating as it gleams brilliantly in the light of Al-Miraiya. Large windows tinted almost black cover the cockpit to give the pilot as much visibility as desired. Twenty metres was a bit large for a racer, but Elias was seven foot four even in human form and he didn't fancy being in a cramped long range fighter for a couple of months, plus the extra room allowed him to fit in a larger, overclocked Stevens Engine to fuel the main drive. Speaking of the main drive, five fusion driven engines are mounted at the rear of the craft along with chemical thrusters at key points on the hull for more precise manoeuvres, their presence well concealed by silver decorative elements and as a final means of thrust on the return journey approximately fifty metres of golden solar sail were furled up in the hull awaiting deployment.

Once he's as satisfied as he's going to be that everything's not going to blow up on him he gives the golden calligraphy proclaiming the ship's name to anyone who can read Ishtahn a polish and steps away to stretch his legs. He definitely does not look like a pilot, he's much too big. He towers over most and his shoulders are much too broad. Plus he's not even wearing a flight suit, choosing instead to dress in a typical Ishtahn cold-weather style with a long fur-trimmed leather coat and a pale blue scarf around his neck. His long brown hair has been pulled back into a loose ponytail and his eyes are covered by a pair of dark goggles that do nothing to detract from his rugged good looks.

He looks around at his competition and is honestly a bit nervous. He can't match the elegance of Lady Charyti, the boisterousness of Lewis Norris, the ancient mystery of the Archmage of Kish or the comfort that comes from the homefield advantage possessed by the Protectorate races. The only person who looks less like they belong in this world of professional sports is Chif'Blak, and the Archmage of Kish of course but when you're that old no one can tell you you don't belong right where you are. It'll be better once the race starts, he thinks, then he can just put on the first of many audiobooks and chill out for a few weeks.

[EmBark]

The Starting Line... Starting!

@FriendlyHeadcrab

One of the announcers took position in the platform of their lightning dome. Their sunglasses gleamed in the light of the first rays of Ophon rising over the horizon of Al-Miraiya. Their voice came through to the audience loudly and more softly to any racers who decided to set their channels to receive it.

"It is that time again, lords, ladies and gentlethem! People across the spectrum and from every gene pool and arcane persuasion! It is here! It is now! It is the MEKHALA-VEEHRA DASH 2050!"

A horn blared. The lights went on.

 

"On your marks!"

Red One

"Ready?"

Red Two

"Get set!"

Red THREE

"GO!"

GREEN!

OOC

Until and including on Friday next week you're free to make your rolls for the race and decide what bits of the race you want to describe! There's the kickoff on al-Miraiya, the trip to Veehra, the pickup of sand in one of the dust desert regions on Veehra, the checkpoint in Veehra's orbit, the trip back to Mekhala, and finishing on al-Miraiya again.

Since it is an endurance race, stopping is possible and coasting mid-flight is possible, so remember your racer doesn't have to be in their seat and actively steering the entire time. They can open communications to other racers, they can make a pit stop in other regions, they can eat, drink and be merry. Prooobably don't want to sleep though, despite it being a long race.

Oh and please put all your rolls in a single post in this thread.

@Elemental @zabbarot @Frostwander @Featherscale @bc_56 + anyone else who still wants to join in... you can do so until Friday!

[Elemental]

The starting line

Elias watches as the race nears its beginning, his eyes fixed on the countdown as the gentle thrum of the idling fusion drive of the Eclipsing Eagle providing something slow and steady for him to match his breathing to. Once the light goes green though all thoughts of calm flee his mind as he pushes the throttle into high gear. With a silent roar the five primary engines shoot forth a blinding blaze of brilliant white fire, tinged ever so slightly red, and the Eclipsing Eagle takes flight. Indicators all across his dashboard begin to light up, green, green, gold, green, red? No wait, green! He releases a breath he didn't realise he was holding as he devotes full attention to the flight.

The holo display that came up over the window displayed a countdown and a graphic of Al-Miraiya receding into the distance along with his projected course. The seconds ticked by slowly, but as soon as the countdown reached zero he slammed a switch to activate the afterburners for a prolonged burn. This was the moment of truth, if the magnetic containment failed then the experimental fuel mix would melt the thrusters and then probably ignite the fuel tank.

There was a sudden jerk as the acceleration intensified, the Eclipsing Eagle shooting forth with a trail of blinding white fire behind it. A few of the many green indicators temporarily flicked to red or flashed worriedly, but after a moment all was stable and as the burn came to an end his course was perfectly aligned with Veehra's position in about thirty days. Now he just had to hope he had enough fuel to slow down...

[EmBark]

The Starting Line

Guyineber looks to her left at Ani-Quin's ship. They exchange thumbs-ups. She looks to her right at Elias' ship. The Eclipsing Eagle is a great sight in her opinion. She hopes it and all the other ships can give her a great challenge... but still that she will beat some of them.

As soon as the lights turn green, she rams her foot down on the pedals and her ship shoots forward so fast and noisily that she doesn't hear the straining of the pedals under the strength of her feet. The ship glitters in the light of Ophon's sunrise as she veers towards a rock formation that resembles a ramp, races across it and gets launched into the sky... into holy space.

 

The First Stretch (to Veehra)

Guyineber did not go very fast compared to many of the other racers. She was still getting used to a lot of controls of the ship. If only they'd had ships that she could just send her own personal magic through to control it the way she could control her body and flight path. That would have been so much easier.

She pressed a button and accidentally turned the radio on. "Is that... music? No. Voices? Anyone there?"

Edited April 17 by EmBark (see edit history)

[bc_56]

VIP Lounge

The Chief Executive downs the contents of the vial without complaint. Slowly a smile forms across his face. "That's good stuff. I may have to acquire a share in that brewery. Thoughts, Martin?" The younger dwarf seems less pleased. "It's strong, but it lacks flavor." "Ah, you're still young. Your palate hasn't developed yet."

"Now where were we? Oh right, exploring. My people are quite keen on gathering the resources of the outer planets. There's all sorts of wealth out there just waiting to be discovered. I expect we'll see you out there?"

[Elemental]

1 hour ago, EmBark said:

The First Stretch (to Veehra)

Guyineber did not go very fast compared to many of the other racers. She was still getting used to a lot of controls of the ship. If only they'd had ships that she could just send her own personal magic through to control it the way she could control her body and flight path. That would have been so much easier.

She pressed a button and accidentally turned the radio on. "Is that... music? No. Voices? Anyone there?"

Elias was getting comfortable, at this point there was literally nothing for him to do for weeks so he'd started making himself a cup of tea as he listened to the latest hits from Ishtahnos. He was just adding a pinch of cinnamon as a reward for not blowing the ship up when an indicator started blinking. With slight panic that almost caused him to drop the precious cinnamon he realised it was the communications array. He flicked a switch and heard the last bit of Guyineber's message.

"Hello, you've reached the Eclipsing Eagle, what can I do for you?" he asked. His Low Imperial was heavily accented and the sound of an Ishtahn singer could be heard in the background. His eyes scanned the holo display. He didn't exactly have a sophisticated detection system, but near as he could tell everyone was on course and no one was spiralling off out of control. That likely ruled out a distress call, not that he could do anything if it was. This burn was calculated, he had only enough fuel to slow down once. That thought did admittedly give him a bit of anxiety.

[Frostwander]

On 4/10/2024 at 5:36 PM, EmBark said:

The VIP Dome

@Frostwander

The arrival of Lady Charyti d'Partout shakes things up a bit. Few racers are so closely associated with any of the VIPs that they enter the VIP dome, and even beyond that any of the racers naturally draw attention. The Lady is by no means an exception, quite the contrary. The ambassador inclines her head at their introduction. "How do you fare, Lady d'Partout? I am ambassador Yessikruz Donce. I, ah--"

At the Lady's bow and the kiss placed upon her hand, the ambassador finds herself with a sudden affliction of speechlessness. The light glowing in her eyes and the crevices of her horns increases just enough in intensity that those paying attention might notice it.

"I'm... a pleasure. To make your acquaintance as well, Lady d'Partout. I hope your flight with the Peregrine will be most swift and civilized."

Lady d'Partout's eyes catch the glow increases from the ambassador. "You are a pleazure, indeed. And thank you. I would be glad to ..."

Whatever she was about to say is cut off by an announcement echoing from the monitors calling race pilots to final preparations. "Ah, you will forgive my sudden departure, but I must go prepare for an even more abrupt one. If all goes well, though, I will be back a day or two before the other racers, and perhaps we can meet again to celebrate!" Another flourishing bow and a wink, and she turns and exits the VIP dome.

On 4/12/2024 at 11:58 AM, Elemental said:

The VIP Dome

Llewellyn Cade Silverfang hadn't been to Mekhala for thirteen years when he as a young assistant Minister of the Crown and had to handle the disappearance of the Ishtahnos's chosen racer and most skilled test pilot only to find out that he'd eloped, with a pirate of all things! To say it was embarrassing was quite the understatement and he'd slunk back to Veehra before the party had even started. This time though, things would be different. He was the full Minister of Industry now and he'd made damn well sure that their new racer, Elias Rutherford High Mountain got to the starting line at least! He takes one last look at the staging area to make sure Elias hadn't run off with anyone and then steps into the dome.

Llewellyn's glance at the staging area catches just in time to see Charyti blowing a kiss in Elias' direction.

On 4/12/2024 at 3:41 PM, EmBark said:

The Starting Line... Starting!

"It is that time again, lords, ladies and gentlethem! People across the spectrum and from every gene pool and arcane persuasion! It is here! It is now! It is the MEKHALA-VEEHRA DASH 2050!"

A horn blared. The lights went on.

 

While she plays to the crowd, and keeps a flirtatious posture toward her fellow racers, Charyti ensures she still has time to confirm the pre-flight check with her launch crew, and by the time the countdown begins is harnessed comfortably into her pilot's seat, helmet sealed. Eyes scan continuously over the readings of dozens of micro displays, broadcast frequencies listening for the start signal in her earpiece and from the dashboard speaker. One hand rests on the main directional flightstick, the other above the primary ignition, tracing circles around the bright blue button, caution cover already removed.

Then the countdown ends and four lights on the display synchronize to the start sequence.

GREEN.

Her palm slaps down onto the ignition and the explosion from the thrusters behind her presses her back into the cushion of the seat. Her right hand flicks through a series of switches to re-trigger computations of flight paths based on the exact moment of launch. Her left remains on the stick, applying microthrust corrections to alter course to match her optimal path now projected onto the interior of her canopy. A second display tracks the relative position of her fellow racers, and she tweaks the thrusters again to ensure she is clear of their trajectory.

For the viewers, the rockets at the back of the PEREGRINE burn orange, and leave a long billowing plume of white smoke as the ship surges upward. Over the racer broadcast channels, her pilot's voice is heard laughing uproariously with delight.

Edited April 18 by Frostwander (see edit history)