Wave does indeed take up the chance to shake hands, no shortage of confidence in it on her end either. The glowing bands of her clothes stilled for the handshake before resuming their lazy trailing patterns, a nice touch that emphasised the attention being given Wave thought idly. "I'm frequently outmatched, but rarely outdone Idiori." she says giving a faint smile back and then nodded to her wings. "They should hold their own if it was all pure speed, but I doubt it'll be that simple."

Lowering her voice conspiratorially, Wave straightens her hair and glances over at the Sorcerer working at his Warstrider "In the interest of a fair race I'll give away that despite the choice he made, Uther there you won't have to watch your back for. Our fashionably late final opponent I think will happily do what they need to win though."

She leaves out what she'd do if the opportunity to get ahead arose, but then she was not entirely sure herself. Voice returning to normal, she carries on in her usual calm tones "It'll be good to have someone sharing an interest in strategy at the academy at last, I've been thinking of challenging someone to a game of stones. If we can still bear each others presence after the race, then the offer is there."

Mattel grabbed Mira to prevent the situation from escalating. He put on his best smile, "Now now Mira, they are just mad because they don't have such cute fan club president."

The lunar then pays close attention to the others as they point out the celestials in the Pavilion. He gives the occassional "oooooooohhhhh" and "aaaaaaaaaaawwwwe".

Mattel was totally into being with the fan club, not because there were hot chicks everywhere... but because the Lord Captain was an awesome exalt to look up to.

Idiori looks genuinely surprised by Wave's insinuations concerning Professor Uthar and Desus. She answers in a low voice, "I would be surprised if interference like that were even considered fair game in an Anthegenian race. I thought this was a city whose ruling figure promotes peace? Of course, I could always be wrong. Or... he could just pretend it was an accident."

"Personally though, I think Desus is good enough that he's not thinking he has to cheat. And what could the prize be that he can't get anywhere else?" She shrugs, not particularly interested in discussing the elder Exalt in detail.

Talking of strategy and gaming is much more to her taste. The Southern woman smile broadly at the prospect of Wave's challenge, less physical and more cerebral. "Well, I don't see why we couldn't. I hope you won't have any reason to hate me after we're done here! This is a friendly competition. To the best flier goes the spoils, and so on."

"I mean it, good luck out there. If any one of us beats Mr. Swagger, I'd consider it a day to remember." Idiori gives Wave a salute, fits on her goggles, then urges her moonsilver windblade toward her assigned start position.

Edged Blossom waves energetically at Pebbles' arrival, then laughs out loud at her suggestion. "Ha! You're on!"

Then she turns to Goldfinch and shrugs. "Eh, it'll be fine! Well, maybe not for you if you've got something riding on your win," she amends, innocently cavalier, "but I'm just competing for fun. If I fall, then damn, I deserve the agony I'll get for being that clumsy."

"And, I don't know your mother personally, but I know the name. Crane constantly ambushes me with pop quizzes about current events and political figures! I've had to be pretty sneaky sometimes, just to avoid being bombarded with questions... I suppose that means she's still teaching me something..."

Blossom is full of energy, more than ready for the race to commence. She bounces on her Windblade by the balls of her feet. "Ooh, I think I see the announcers coming. I can't wait!"

Rajha had been more or less letting Edged Blossom do all the talking, but when the little race began, she triggered her wings' transit mode and hopped platformward.

As she landed last of...well, everyone entering the Medium race, she just took her position with a little grin. The festival had gotten her a little dizzy...she shook her head to be ready for the race.

For Iblis, the moment is also one of reverence - not for himself, but for the many mortals and Dragon-Blooded airmen that he has seen fly over the years, people who have given years of service (and in some cases, their very lives) in service of Anthegenia's air defense. The Marshall accepts pictures with great care and genuine gratefulness. He takes the time to look at every one of them and, perhaps to the surprise of those who give them to him, he seems to know each Airman by name (or at least last name and callsign). When handed pictures, it is almost as if he enters a highly nostalgic state, recounting humorous anecdotes and personal memories of what it was like to fly with the pictured airmen to the crowds with a warm smile. The moment is highly emotional for him too, as his demonstration today was also meant to honor them - those who worked through the generations and passed on, either through retirement or for reaching the end of their lives.

As the time for the races approaches, however, Iblis diverts his attention momentarily to Atmadja, grinning at her. "Looks like it's going to be your time to shine, Red." Iblis says, tilting his head to the side. "I wanted to fly the Firebrand over to the race area to see you before the race, but your being here just simplifies everything." With that, Iblis reaches over the Kazei's waist and pulls her towards him, pressing his lips against hers in a big, heartfelt kiss.

Leaning back, the Air Marshall grins at the woman once more, then nods. "You should never leave for a sortie without your lucky charm. Now go and show 'em what you've got, Red. I'll be watching."

Comet comes to the one floating platforms, he looks around for any airships which have not yet departed into air yet. Look which one is available to accept passengers....

"Only my pride and dignity. They seem to command quite a high price on the markets today, but fortunately, mine appear to renew themselves every little while." He grinned. "It's probably due to my extraordinarily large ego, which I plan to use as a hot air balloon for this particular race." Pause. "Although, now that I think about it, my health and mobility appear to be pretty important as well. I prefer to have Agony as a very distant parent; one I treat with the utmost respect, and who visits rarely, if at all. "

Strangely dizzying girl. He wondered vaguely if he had been quite that hyper when he first started ou--no, really, you're probably still halfway there right now. Even with that wonderful mood damper you have on. But then again, this wasn't quite the time for introspection, was it?

"I don't suppose you have some of those questions about my mother on hand, do you? It's one of those.... ah, oddly morbid curiosities. Oh, hello, Pebbles; Rahja. No free pass for you, I'm afraid; but the best of luck, and the offer of  communal heartbroken-sobbing bardive when we're done."

Atmadja receives Iblis' kiss and returns it... eliciting a few sighs of longing from the crowd, and a few of irritation. Not everyone is a romantic.

She doesn't seem to care though, holding onto the Marshal for a blissful moment until she glimpses over Iblis' shoulder the last of the racers assembling on the platforms.  "Whoops, going to miss my cue. Thanks, love, and..." She leans in, whispering something into his ear that concludes with a wink.

Then she fits on her helmet and leaps over the railing of the balcony where the Iblis Club is gathered. There's a few gasps as she free-falls, rather than bursting into Essence or artifact wings like the other flyers. Atmadja doesn't seem concerned at all, though, letting out an exhilarated shout as she belatedly activates her jump harness. "Don't worry, I'm okay!" she hollers. From below resounds a piercing, hawklike cry and the roar of Essence vents, as a blur of red, orange and gold passes by to catch her from below.

The red jade and flame-painted warbird hovers as Atmadja slithers into the cockpit on its back (not a typical warbird feature, as they're usually ridden rather than piloted warstrider-style) and disappears inside. Its vents flare anew as it climbs rapidly upward, banking to circle the Festival area from high above, before diving to land amidst the young Celestials on the medium platform.

"Hello, fellow racers. Atmadja Kigal-Usha here." Atmadja's voice filtered through the cockpit has an oddly metallic tone to it. "Believe it or not, flying's a hobby for me. This baby's not military owned... if it were I'd be in a lot of trouble!" She lets out a tinny chuckle and waits, her warbird perched on the platform rather like a real bird, except much bigger and made of jade.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:58, Fri 16 Oct 2009.

The Anansi club members get herded along past two more bridges to the last airship still taking tickets. They and other ticket-holders tap their feet impatiently, craning their necks at the starting platforms.

"Geez, it's really about to start!" opines Mira, walking with Mattel. Her cheeks are still faintly pink from when he pulled her away and complimented her before. Myra smiles and quietly sing-song taunts from behind, "Mira and Mattel, sitting in an airship..." and Elmira looks forlorn, glancing at the distant Invierna.

Comet, meanwhile, stands at the large platform shared by all the airship rides. Most of the airships have already lifted off, but for the transport ship with the long line that Mira, Mattel and others are at, and the luxurious theater ship Harlequin. Maybe he could cut into the transport ship line? Many of the people at that line look plainly dressed; Dianora's hard mote would be worth plenty more than their tickets.

On the other hand, the Harlequin lacks a line altogether... but it looks like they're already setting up to pull up the stairway entrance and depart. There's two people in colorful diamond-patterned tights, belled tunics and caps assisting the takeoff from the ground, one the blonde that gave most of the announcements, the other a man with blue hair (a wig? or not?) and the physique of an acrobat.

Comet was eager to see the races from the sky....but that long line is likely long wait and likely miss some stuff. But Harlequin other hand has no one waiting but they are about to depart.....although such high luxury is not his 'usual' comforts what he seeks he thinks it more practical term; less traffic get in and definitely better viewing spot.

So Comet rushes quickly to the bridge which is pulled off and Comet shouts, while waving the hard mote; "WAIT! Do you still got space in the ship!?" Then Comet sees it is too late already, ship is departing and pulling slowly the connection bridge off the platform. He then decides gamble with his life, he slowly takes deep breath and pockets the hard mote into vest pocket, crouches low, hands touching the platform floor and then with spurt of speed runs hard towards the bridge!

Heart pounding his boots thunder on the platform floor rapidly, his open vest flapping in motion of the air which through Comet is surging through fast as he can! Teeth gritting he then leaps on the bridge from edge of the platform, attempting to take grip on the bridge and climb up on it while ship is pulling it in.

Edged Blossom laughs delightedly. "You're a funny man, Goldfinch. I dunno, there's plenty of egos in the Deliberative that could make pretty massive hot air balloons, don't you think?"

She pauses, mock-flinching when Goldfinch asks her to recall the Peregrine question. And she thought Crane was the only one who wanted to quiz her... "H-hey! You caught me off guard! Seriously, I don't remember much of anything right now. Um, she's a Twilight, but she has certain standards... what was it? Fae? Demons? Well one of those things she doesn't like summoning. She's er... a lot older than she looks, and spends more time off doing her personal stuff than in the debate room. Damn, I wish I had seniority so I could be lazy and pretend to be useful!"

Then the last of the Medium level racers arrives, the only one in an automaton vessel. "...Oh come on. A warbird? Are those even legal? Oh, but you're the Terrestrial, so you need us to be handicapped." This isn't said rudely, rather Blossom seems to genuinely believe this to be true.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:32, Fri 16 Oct 2009.

Comet leaps, and manages to stick his landing, hanging on as the stairway / bridge is retracted into the theater ship. The two Harlequin attendants left behind on the platform gasp and gawk at him helplessly.

"Hey, hey, wait a minute!" shouts out the blonde jester. There's nothing to do about it now, the Harlequin will be behind schedule if it tries to reconnect. "You don't even have a ticket!"

The blue-haired man next to her nudges her hard with his elbow. "Shhh! That kid's waving around a mark from the Silvered Midnight. D'you really want one of HER people stalking you 'cause you refused him?"

"Oh... crap!" The blonde looks a little paler, and continues to speak with her companion in a hushed voice. They watch the Harlequin float away toward an ideal vantage point near the start of the races.

Theater Ship Harlequin

Just inside the theater ship, two crewmen (also in colorful jester themed outfits, of course) work to pull the entrance shut. They glance at Comet quizzically, but they make no comment, figuring if he got past the attendants he's supposed to be here.

The Harlequin is large enough to be a multiple-decker, and it seems Comet's stepped into a corridor of one of the inner hull levels. The entire interior of the ship appears to be mainly crafted of fine Eastern wood panels embellished with green jade tracery, and now and then glittering green gems embedded into the wood. The windows are all patterned in rainbow hues of stained glass, depicting fanciful animals and scenery.

A crewman glances at Comet and points toward a staircase of polished cherrywood. "Over there's the way up to the top deck."

Comet balances on bridge until he gets inside, he studies the fine ship structure and was pleased see it was made from eastern lands sturdy tree. Which ironically also his village huts and houses were made also but likely less refined kind.

When crew member pointed to the stairs Comet nods and says; "Oh, thanks from pointing it out. This ships look big enough get lost in." Comet proceeds to the stairs and go to top deck. He somewhat wide eyed looks on displayed wealth and quality spend on single ship! He had never traveled such top quality ship. But also in presence of such wealth he feels more like a sneaky peasant despite he has impressive hard mote in his pocket (which wealth value he barely understands). Not to mention he is chosen of sun which itself brings merits what he is not even aware or acknowledging.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:46, Fri 16 Oct 2009.

The Races

The announcers Edged Blossom pointed out are a trio of air elementals from the Emporium. Sultan Aqil-al-Hezbah, a Lesser Air Dragon, has come personally to oversee the Races, along with two elder Cloud Elementals, a male and a female in ornate wind-crafted kaftan and sari, respectfully. As creatures natural to the air they need no platform to stand on, simply floating toward a position reserved for them between the Expert and Medium platforms.

Storm clouds and lightning swirl around the vast serpentine body of Aqil-al-Hezbah, who thunders: "The Festival of Journeys Race, sponsored by the Emporium of Aerial Conveyance, will soon commence!"

---

OOC: I am not likely going to write detailed posts for NPC racers once the race begins. As much as I've been loving to write all these fun NPCs, I'm starting to burn out. :) So barred any bursts of inspiration, it will be mostly their dice vs. the PCs' dice+stunts.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:32, Fri 16 Oct 2009.

Mighty as the elementals may be, their arrival is vastly overshadowed by Desus, who disembarks from the First Rule of Conquest riding a flying automaton steed of pure orichalcum and white jade, its saddle and ornamental bridle studded with diamonds. Thrusters on the hooves provide an extra burst of speed and maneuverability in tandem with the Essence repulsion field focused on the wings, emitting a potent haze of white-gold Essence. Those familiar with his hobbies recognize the automaton perfectly resembles his favored mount, a winged simhata custom bred for him by Bright Shattered Ice.

The man himself wears a handsomely cut flight coat in a hunter green and white, trimmed in shimmering gold embroidery along the shoulders, sleeves and torso, paired with white breeches with golden stripes up the legs and a dramatically flowing pure white cloak. Orichalcum shimmers at the torque around his throat, his oversized belt buckle and graces his perfected boots. His swagger stick is sheathed like a sword and attached securely to his saddle harness.

Desus guides his automaton simhata to settle gracefully between Wave and Marek (who has since boarded Wings of Gold, crouching at the ready at the start position). He turns and smiles amiably toward the two female Expert racers, turns again to salute Marek languidly, then spreads his arms in a gesture to the air elementals as if to say The star has arrived, now you may continue.

For all his vastness, Desus' reputation is widespread, and none, not even an essentially immortal Dragon, wish to anger him. So the Air Dragon does not immediately continue, allowing plenty of time for the elder Eclipse's throngs of fans to cheer, shout - and in some cases, even faint! - at the sight of him. The hero of countless wars, negotiations and troubles throughout Creation elicits no less than a standing ovation from nearly every mortal, Exalt and spirit who witnesses him arrive.

"Very well," utters the Air Dragon, his booming voice only barely managing to quiet down the ecstatic crowd. "Contestants, take your places. The rules are as follows: Remain airborne by means of the artifact you signed up with, or be disqualified. Stay within the limits of your designated race track, or be disqualified. Refrain from direct physical attack on fellow competitors, or be disqualified. Use of Essence techniques, Artifacts and Hearthstones supplementing flight are allowed, so long as they do not allow you to entirely transcend space or time, render you invisible or give you complete control of another contestant's mind or heart."

The cloud elemental with distinctly female appearance picks up where Aqil-al-Hazbah leaves off. "As you may already have seen, the Medium track allows for much more leeway in terms of airspace. The limitation is that one must pass through each floating ring in the correct numbered order. If you have done so correctly, the ring will flare with the hue and characteristics of your Anima. Some of these rings may move, be surrounded by obstacles, or require tight maneuvers to reach in quick succession at high speed."

Her male counterpart lifts his voice to the wind, conveying his description of the Expert track to competitors and spectators alike. "Expert level competitors, you will be flying within the confines of the Deadly Sidewinder Canyon, two miles below our current position. Once you have entered the canyon at the designated start point, you cannot for whatever reason rise above the height of the canyon walls until you have reached the finish line, or you will forfeit the race. Nor can you ever allow yourself or your mount to land on the ground, for the very same reason. But beware: the canyon may at times bend sharply, narrow considerably or place unexpected obstacles in your way."

"By participating in this race you agree to abide by these rules. If they are unsatisfactory, leave now." Aqil-al-Hazbah gives a cursory pause to allow racers to leave; apparently it's not something that happens often. "Very well! Medium and Expert racers, begin on my mark!"

The crowd, driven wild by anticipation, shouts along with the Air Dragon. "THREE! TWO! ONE! ...START!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:54, Tue 20 Oct 2009.

Theater Ship Harlequin

The top deck Comet reaches is as wide as a banquet hall, full of wealthy Terrestrial and high profile mortal patrons in their best clothes, sharing sparkling beverages and morsels of food. As the Races are the main event of the moment, the Harlequin's actors and actresses are mingling and relaxing with the rest.

There are many servants rushing about in green vests, white shirts and black pants, bearing drinks and snacks with a distinctly Eastern theme, or coats and wraps fetched from the guest closet for those who find the higher altitude more chill. The airship's band of string players and trumpeters plays an energetic tune for the revelers, and everywhere people are dancing and tapping their feet, if they're not leaning against the railings with magnifying lenses, attempting to get the best view possible of the races as they commence!

At the raised rear deck, a throne of oak and walnut cushioned in green velvet has been set down, surrounded by attractive men and women in fanciful winged costumes and ballroom masks. Perched on the seat with a wine goblet is a good-looking man with reddish brown hair, wearing dark leather slacks and a deep green captain's coat accessorized with a white cravat and gloves. He is Brazen Emerald, the captain and owner of the Harlequin.

Comet gets stared at a bit oddly. He's not a servant, as he lacks the green vest, yet he doesn't seem to fit in well with the patrons. Eventually, Emerald gestures to one of his lovely attendants, and the woman (in a floor length green gown studded with black crystal beads, and a matching green, black and silver-beaded mask) jubilantly weaves her way through the crowd toward him. "Hello, fine fellow, happy festival! Are you looking for someone?"

Excellent Airboat Gale VI

The relatively ordinary transport ship provided by Fortuna Gale's Shipping and Transport is already nearly full by the time Mira, Myra, Elmira and Mattel reach the ticket takers at the front of their line. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me, they did the countdown already! Hurry, tickets everyone!" Mira insists, then claps a hand on her mouth. "Oh no, Mattel, you don't have one yet, do you?? You've got money on you right? Pleasesayyoudo."
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:22, Sat 17 Oct 2009.

In mean time Comet has moved over side balconies which gave view to the races. He noticed races are nearly starting and he waited how races will progress, as he recognizes few of the riders in vehicles so with anticipation waits how they would fare.

When the masked woman came close Comet turned face her and replied; "Happy festival for you too! Well no, I am just watching races here. Very good view I say, the pilot had picked good spot for it." Comet had not got so much interest to other entertainment provided by the ship nor touched any the treats. He is plainly here to get good view of the races.

He has avoided bump too close with other patrons out of politeness, but yet despite what Wave had told Comet about 'natural authority for being exalt and solar' he still does not feel entirely comfortable to swing that way socially. Comet takes his recording necklace and from window starts record the races, then suddenly races starts and he checks his amulet is in right angle for good visual data.

Mattel goes with the flow but is very lost for words as they approach the transport. Maybe he should have let on more to how uncorfortable he is with flying on someone elses terms.

Patting himself down visibly looking for the money "not there" he face reveals is own sarcastic dissappointment. "I don't think I'll be able to make it. But I'll be ok. I'll be here when you land. I promise."

As they enter the transport he waves, he turns, and joins the other fans of races.

In reply to First Headmistress (msg #56):

Upon announcement of the race's beginning, Rajha began to shoot forward at maximum speed, the circular mark of the Night Caste burning on her face as she began moving forward-sideways in hopes of cutting straight in front of Five White Pebbles, the opponent she considered to be the greatest threat (at least at the moment) and forcing the Lunar to expend time slowing down or dodging around her. Without taking time to see whether she succeeded, a beat of Rajha's glowing wings sent her in another angled direction, down and almost straight towards an obstacle.

As she almost hit the floating orb, she kicked off against it with her foot and launched herself into the first line of rings.

Pebbles shifts to her "war" form as the countdown begins and the reasoning behind her ridiculously tight bodysuit becomes apparent, as her beastman shape is significantly smaller than her human form, the suit merely becomes comfortable once she's shifted.

Shape chosen, Pebbles begins to call upon  her essence while the rules are being read off, slowly her caste mark firms up and her anima banner begins to form.  Pebbles reflects to herself, as time seems to dilate, that it's the first time she's actually dipped into her peripheral essence to show her banner off.  Fittingly, it doesn't glow but rather steals ambient light from the surrounding area, causing every random reflection and glimmer to somehow be right behind her and shining in the eyes of whoever gazes upon the small Lunar.  At the same time her body steals shadows, darkening until she becomes an inky black silhouette against the ambience.

11:30, Today: Five White Pebbles rolled 4 successes using 11d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 3,1,7,5,9,7,6,4,4,7,1. First Race Roll.

Pebbles ostentatiously pulls the protective goggles down around her eyes as the countdown reaches zero, and waits a brief moment for the rest of the pack to tangle up ahead before she moves, stretching all four of her wings to maximum extension.  She dashes, and there's a sudden thunderblast as she breaks the speed of sound for about ten yards after starting, gaining altitude to go over the rest of the pack.

11:30, Today: Five White Pebbles rolled 5 successes using 11d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 8,2,7,6,5,5,4,1,8,8,8. Second Race Roll.

Spotting the first set, a horizontal ring followed by a vertical one normally requiring a 90-degree turn (and indeed, only able to spot it at such range because of her vision-enhancing gear), Pebbles unlatches her wings and stands on top of them in preparation, then performs a lengthy dive, rolling through the first ring and stepping on the second to get a small boost before landing back on the wings and latching them in place.

11:30, Today: Five White Pebbles rolled 3 successes using 11d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 3,1,4,10,1,3,3,2,2,9,5. Third Race Roll.

Theater Ship Harlequin

The masked woman smiles at Comet's compliment about the view. "We aim to please, sir!" As Comet finds a spot to pull out his Recorder, she remains nearby, nimbly dodging the crowds to keep up with him. She continues in a friendly voice as she peeks over the railing to get a glimpse of the Medium racers speeding off of the platform, humming to the tune of the trumpeters. "Isn't this exciting? Oh, and Captain Emerald wants you to know he'd like to meet you, now or after the races. May I ask your name? Mine's Dania."

Excellent Airboat Gale VI

Mira's face falls when Mattel deigns to join them. Suddenly she doesn't seem all that excited about the ride, and the hand holding her ticket hangs limply. "C'mon Mira, let's just go," says Myra, nudging her forward before the people still in line behind them get irate.

"O... okay... see you later Mattel." The Anansi Club girls give their tickets (Mira looking reluctant, as she glances over her shoulder) and are ushered into the airboat. She gives him a half-hearted wave and watches his red head disappear into the crowd, until her friends drag her toward a better viewing spot on the deck. By now the transport ship has already taken the last of its passengers, and disconnects from the platform, drifting up and away.

"L-look Mira, they're flying already," Elmira says, gently tugging on Mira's arm as they join the spectators, while Myra points and shouts excitedly. "WOW! That one there's going so fast she's just a blur!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:50, Sat 17 Oct 2009.

Wave tenses up as she grips the edge of the platform in preparation for the start of the race, staring down at the canyon entrance she mouths the final countdown to herself. Already bathed in light, Wave stares at the Canyon below picking out the exact spot she was going to aim for and a rough route that'd keep her out of a dead end. She concentrates until the image is burnt into her mind, the canyon below and the voice of the start up all she can sense as every other minor detail flits away. On the call of "START!" she takes off from the platform like a shooting star, hand pulling her down into a dive, the wings scythe through the air with a piercing screech and a trail of essence from her clothes drapes out behind her.

The ground seems to rush up to meet her and a great cloud of dust is churned up into the air as her wings splay out and turn the dive into a rapid forward thrust. Wave had lost track of the other racers already, relying on her training to warn her if danger was coming her focus instead set entirely on the upcoming track. The canyon was a twisting, turning affair and wide as it was at the speeds Wave was taking it she had to react with lightning reflexes to avoid ending up a Solar shaped indentation in the Canyon's side.

The canyon wasn't without other obstacles though and as she flew she encountered a large corridor filled with natural stone structures, the tops still thick and heavy with rock still untouched by time while the wind tunnel below had carved the pillars supporting them into long thin strips. Collapsed sections allowed the people above to see inside this natural web of traps for the fast paced Exalt and Wave weaved through them without cutting her speed an inch.

By now she couldn't even see what was coming up, her caste mark blazing bright on her head and her own personal essence mixing in with the rest of her costume making her an iridescent blur that flowed around the pillars like water. Drawing deep in herself to fine her reflexes to a keen edge she managed to make it three quarters of the way through the deadly maze before a sudden gust of wind blew her off course, the tips of her wings clipping a support and sliced it neatly in two. It was pure luck she wasn't sprawled into one of the many pillars surrounding her as she tumbled sideways, twisting through the air to try right herself she her feet manages to find purchase on the canyon side. She didn't allow herself to stop, bounding along the side in great leaps with her wings powering out large flaps to try put her safely back in the air. On the fifth jump it caught and she was away again, diving through the last of the obstructions and into the long stretch before the tunnel down.

Her collision wasn't completely without consequence though, the sheared pillar dropped its great rock down into the canyon where it landed with a thunderous crash a great wave of sound rumbling up the canyon and shaking its sides. Wave lets out a mumbled curse into the rushing air as she sees rocks begin to cascade down from the Canyon's sides the thrum of the sound having shook them loose. She has no time to lose though and meets the deluge of rocks head on, her Great Daiklaive whipping out to neatly cut the first one in two, flying right through the gap she's parted and twirling to make a fan of steel in front of her that turns aside two more.

The sound given off by clashes of Orichalcum on steel is further punctuated by great flashes of white essence and as Wave's anima flares into life, the typhoon of golden essence whirls away smaller rocks all by itself. Her progress made with the blade adds to the effect, boulders trying to halt her are either turned away or split into pieces as she streaks for the small entrance, the typhoon twisting to catch up. The entrance to the race track below is barely big enough to fit her and sparks are throw up as her blade and wings scratch grooves into the side, the typhoon roars in after her, swirling down into the small opening until the golden glow fades away leaving only clouds of dust still settling from the impromptu landslide.

"Oh, probably, but they've all been disqualified. Lord Sol doesn't like anyone blocking his view of Anthegenia." Ah, but it's almost time now, wasn't it? He spotted Lord Anansi's ship rising up into the blue above him, and wondered if he was being watched right now. Probably. "As it stands, however, we're still currently doomed to serve as the pitiable entertainments of our elders--so, best of luck, Lady Blossom. I'd wish you more, but I need it for my own."

And then, of course, Atmadja drops in with a... huh. Wow. "Considering she's part of the Anthegenian Airfleet, Blossom, I don't quite think she needs us at a disadvantage as much as we do her." He grinned. "Try not to crush us too badly, will you, lady? I don't quite know your name, but from what I've seen of the display flight earlier..." And the race gets to get a little harder with every passing second. Ah, Sol. At least there were only... three? two? Ah. One second.

...no, wait, there weren't any more.

START!"

A lovely thing about modern magitech: what with all the high speeds, impossible accelerations, and, depending on vehicle, sometimes the absolute lack of anything in front of your face, Meru's many Twilight engineers have worked to give some degree of protection to the poor aircraft pilots, ensuring errant stones or pieces of grass didn't decide to take their own high-speed trip through skin, into flesh, and possible make a pit stop at the nearest random organ. Of course, the slower, heavier transports didn't need such innovations, and the high-flying airships already had more than enough armour--but things like the Windblade? Its original designer simply must have had some sort of strange irony in mind. Razor winds were as dangerous as anything else--so they made sure to reduce them into gentle, flowing, breezes, which both helped to keep the rider cool and made him look awesome.

Especially if he had a cape on. Then he looked really awesome.

For a moment, the air blurred about the platform, as five magitech craft buzzed to life from their idle states... and, in the space of a second, there was nothing left but the choking, roiling dust. (It was entirely possible that Anthegenia, clean as it was, had specifically put dust on the platform just so it could roil up when the fliers sped off. Special dust. Honestly, real dust wouldn't roil in such a roiling fashion, but...  no one would actually go and make special grit for these things, right?)

(But then again, it was the High First Age.)

Goldfinch, however, was (at that point) in no real state to ponder the strange supply/demand formulas for special dancing dirt; the no-sand-to-the-face systems were great for, well, deflecting dust and all, but distracting himself with economic equations would probably set him up for a nice Anthegenia-to-the-head. The age-old war machine would take him on and scrape him off, possibly all within the same minute, while absently counting the clouds in the sky.

Let's see... well, actually, this isn't half as bad as Professor Rolick's original practice course. Sure, there were several competitors with him, but--look! No walls of lightning! Or giant circles of fire! Sure, there were circles, but at least they weren't, for example, trying to eat him alive. He hoped. They wouldn't kill anyone in front of... well, a few million or so people, right?

...er.

Yeah. Probably.

Besides, Peregrine would object.

Nevertheless, Goldfinch tucked into a quick roll as he approached the yawning gate, turning Windblade and flaring cloak into a perfect circle of gold as he spun through the ring. Sure, if it suddenly caught on fire he was pretty much screwed, but if it was going to shoot anything at him the cape would catch it, and the orichalcum vehicle would probably knock it away--so, obviously, it was going to explode in golden flames. He almost swore.

...ok, actually, that looks pretty awesome.

Bright golden birds streamed after him in a thundering wave, a pure white star shining in the heart of the ring as it spun, half-immolated in a bright corona of sunlight. The flock followed him as he flew, ethereal wings carving a path across the sky in glowing, half-seen bodies, and he almost (almost) didn't see the next ring when it came; and that, too, exploded into glory, a second--no, third brilliant light in the noonday sky. A part of him exulted at the sight; who didn't wish his name so blazed across the sky?

But he had a race to win.

(He was grinning; a strange, savage smile, filled with a kind of pride he wasn't quite sure was really his. Even if he lost this, well, if he lost this race, this moment more than made up for it.)

The third ring was in front of him, on on impulse, he let his essence flood through both he and the craft itself; let his own anima light up in a storm of towering fury, his flock joining the rings' children as, blazing in the light of the Crowned, the Windblade took him scything through the third and final ring of this leg, and drawing the bridge of birds in a perfect arc across the sky. Do you see that, Mother? This is who I can be.