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The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCanon)

This is where all of the Age of Space role-plays are archived.
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evil9731
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The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCanon)

Post by evil9731 » Thu Sep 06, 2012 10:54 pm

Every 4 years a wealthy entrepreneur by the name of William Black hosts a race on his own privately owned moon positioned directly between the borders Dmitrian space and Feilan space. The moon of Vosia hosts no native life besides plants and is perfect for it's intended use. The moon hosts many Biomes on it's small surface, from Ice lands, deserts, volcanic fields, jungles, forests, plains, etc.

!!!ENORMOUS CASH PRIZE!!!

This year marks the 654th race on the moon Vosia. The rules are simple, pass by all checkpoints and cross the finish line. Besides that, it's anything goes. Vehicles, weapons resources, etc. ANYTHING GOES. The race spans more than 25,000 miles of the moon's surface and passes through at least one of each Biome. The race is harsh and some people never even finish, DEATHS HAVE HAPPENED BEFORE. This moon is considered neutral territory between Feila, Dmitri and the Immortals Club meaning ALL ARE INVITED TO JOIN IF THEY WISH. The race typically takes 3 weeks at the least and up to 2 months at most.

RULES OF THE RACE:
-Participants must pass all 13 checkpoints and cross the finish line to win the race. You must remain at each checkpoint for a minimum of 10 hours before continuing on in the race. You may take any path at all of your choice.
-You may not have a flight capable vehicle or utilize flight in the race.
--No vehicle or participant in the race may be air born, powered flight or otherwise, for more than 20 minutes Feila time. Breakers of this rule will be disqualified from the race and be unable to claim victory at any level in the race or claim any reward.
-You may not at any point in the race, damage any official race structures directly or indirectly.
-Beyond these 3 rules, participants may use or do absolutly anything they deem nesacery to win

((RULES OF THE RP:
-Anyone is welcome to join at any point in the RP
-You may post as often or as little as you want
-The first 10 posts acknowledge that all racers are currently at the starting line, all posts after are treated as being in race at this point
-due to the length of the race there will be plenty of non race moments in the RP
-at no time may an RPer in the race treat themselves as being more than 3 checkpoints ahead of the rest of the racers
-due to the hazardous nature of this RP, if you post you acknowledge that your character could die
-use the following template for characters in this RP, I will use my own character for an example
-at a predetermined point in time, a poll will be held to decide the race winner))

***My Character***
Name: Guillaume Mertens
Age: 17
Species: Lynx
Nationality: Dmitrian

Basic Bio: A young engineer from Dmitrian Space, he was fascinated with the vehicles used in ancient wars such as tanks, planes and boats. He was a prodigy and from a young age had been designing and building machines. Although he lacked both the capabilities and materials to build his crown jewel design, a large hover tank that he titled Shockwave. It wasn't until his family won a huge lottery that his dream was realized. The parts for his tank were made to his specifications in a factory and he assembled them by hand while the hover generators were built in a lab and shipped to him near the end. He was taught by a professional instructor how to be operate such a large scale machine. His family trusts him enough to be on his own at only 17 years old, so they supplied him with a small carrier ship large enough to hold his tank and live in comfortably but not overly lavish. The ship is piloted by a droid built into the ship as he has no knowledge of space flight.

Mode of travel: Guillaume has seen fit to use the famous Vosian race as a place to test the Shockwave tank in both speed and power. The forward cab can hold up to 4 people on the seat and has a rear section inside that serves as his living space, a small one room "apartment" with enough provisions to last a year. Utilizing hover technology, the tank is rather speedy, not being slowed down by rolling over obstacles, although hills and "wavy" ground will slow it down. This vehicle is capable of going from 0 - 60 in 1.9 seconds and on flat ground and moving in a straight line the tank can hit a max speed of 120 MPH, but it's normal speed for the race is closer to 80 MPH. The tank in terms of weaponry is equipped with an experimental fusion cannon mounted behind the cab, drawing power from the nuclear engine to fire. It is also equipped with dual machine guns on the nose of the tank for less "flashy"means of battle. The tank is unable to make powered flight although it can achieve glide if driving off from a cliff or ramp and is unable to move over water.

Image of Vehicle: http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2012/ ... 5etbnp.png
Last edited by evil9731 on Fri Sep 14, 2012 11:52 pm, edited 8 times in total.
what to say what to say?

so many knives, so little time.

madness makes the world go round, the world go round, the world go round. madness makes the world go round, oh the do dah day!

i am the shadow on the moon at night, filling your dreams to the brim with fright!

CHARACTERS: http://feila.org/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=6222

Like giant monsters AND a good plot to go behind them? Click on this to join the Rise of the Kaiju RP viewtopic.php?f=43&t=6634

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Artashir
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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by Artashir » Thu Sep 06, 2012 11:19 pm

Name: Hassin Patius
Age: 20
Species: Barbary Lion
Nationality: Dmitrian

Basic Bio: The 'youngest' and most rebellious of the Patius Brothers, Hassin shares his worth with his triplet brothers, but he is more inclined to have adventures, dangerous or not, than sit to manage things like Ashrif or observe the progress of the family heritage like Artashir. While he have known to be ruthless or a threat by most, Hassin isn't so cruel enough to not take care of orphans whom he taken himself by former allies or comrades-in-arms, but many believe they are taken as mere apprentices of more destruction. No one but he and close ones could possibly know.
Joining in the race for the thrill, as well as bolstering the family treasury, Hassin eagerly seeks a challenge to his talents and cybernetic power, which holds a dangerous secret that is often confirmed by a deadly energy blast to the body from his left eye.

Mode of travel: On Foot, via his expensive cybernetic enhancement with his already formidable power granted to him by his ancestors of ancient time, Hassin is blinking fast on foot, enough to catch with most vehicles of even racing-models, going 50 MPH on simple jogs and burst up to 94 with cybernetics. With his speed, Hassin is durable enough to last the race with a handful of breaks in between naturally and his strength is enough to tear through spaceship hull. To help him last abit longer, he crafted special modifications to his open-toed boots and system regulations harness.

***

Sitting on a crate, Hassin checked his cybernetic systems for the third time. He never wanted to be caught in surprise by anything, even himself. Everything was correct and up to date. Popping his neck, the black-maned Barbary lion tightened his boots on his digigraded legs with some discomfort before jumping off with little noise, he never liked to use footwear. He was in the main garage for the racers, there was a handful of capable racers, but he believe they would prove a possible challenge. What really got him was the little team of fercats that scurried pass him a while ago, strange little creatures but amusing.

He barely moved a step before he smelled a somewhat unwelcoming scent of a wonderful day of spring minus the pollin and somewhat old pages. "So you came out of the office to see your dear brother race?" Hassin asked, seemingly to himself, but coming from around him was another lion, his fur a golden tan with a cream front to the rest of his thickening black mane, wearing a Feilan politican's outfit and small reading glasses, and a eagle-headed cane in his large right paw.

"Oh brother, do you always have to be so hostile towards me?" The lion asked with mock sorrow. "It is what I do, Ash. You know you enjoy my taunts." Hassin said. His seven-second older twin chuckled lightly and looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes, one a common golden tint while the other glowing deepsea blue. "Indeed I do. Enjoy your race and remember to have fun." Ashrif said.

Smirking, Hassin looked back at him with his own glowing bloodred eye, "Naturally." "Oh, and Art told to tell you to be sure not to kill anyone this time." Ashrif reminded. Hassin nearly gasped at that and looked at Ash, "He's here too?"

Ashrif smiled and nodded before walking off with his tail waving side to side with each step, his right leg seemed to limp slightly.

Watching him abit, Hassin returned his attention to the race, exhaled, and walked away to finish up his preparations.
Last edited by Artashir on Fri Sep 14, 2012 8:48 pm, edited 6 times in total.

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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by Bigfox3 » Fri Sep 07, 2012 2:52 am

Name: Big Mann
Age: 25
Species: Fennec Fox
Nationality: Edwinish, Feilan

Basic Bio: His work in the field of mechanics has certified him as a genius in the area. He's worked with high profile companies of the time (all under private contracts to avoid media hype), and lives a very average suburban life with his fiancee, made cushy by the patents he's made that allow them to live comfortably while he continuously works on projects in his lab. Hearing about the race inspires him, as his mettle as a genius could finally be tested.
Mode of Travel: Having researched the race and learned of its varied terrain, he decided to pull out an old project of his, VICTORYA (Vehicles In Control Towing Ominous Riders Yielding Abilities). In order to be able to participate, he'd have to combine the vehicles into one. The project took him weeks, but the final result was something to be proud of. Considering he liked the acronym but needed a renaming, he called the project VICTOR (Vehicles Increase Combined Travelling On Race-course). The machine transforms into one of the seven original vehicles for usage at various points in the race. It's default form is an air/space jet with a blue and yellow motif, accented with purple and orange at the recommendation of his fiancee and their best friend. The remaining six vehicles carry usage in varying stages of the Biomes: a rocket-powered fireproof 4WD truck with a red motif, a jet-engine boat/submarine that can be used on any wet surface with a golden and sky blue motif, a tunneler built like a golden tank with varying drills to drill through mountains and the like, a racecar for the smooth portions of the track to maximize speed, a stealth ATV with built-in camouflage to lose the competition in forested areas, and a small jeep with a labcoat-white color to keep an eye on it as it was one of the smallest vehicles and easiest to drive in tough to get through areas. Each 'vehicle' was also equipped with a communications center, appropriate weaponry and defenses, a music player area, a Big Gulp-sized cupholder, A/C and cushy seating.
The Dessert War never happened, but I'm deluded enough that I've convinced myself I already won. :3

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`/-(_)-\=~~~~
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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by JamesG » Fri Sep 07, 2012 9:14 pm

Names: Dook
Genders: Males
Species: Fercats
Number: 22

Appearances: Fercats are brown, as this exception to the rule proves.

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3294/243 ... 98888b.jpg

Otherwise, they are semi-anthropomorphic ferret/wildcat hybrids that are very short and wear colourful waistcoats. They dook a lot and are prone to stare at people with their beady eyes.

Biographies: The Dooks are possibly related to each other, or otherwise just a very close group of fercats. They are thought to communicate exclusively by their thoughts and feelings with each other via implants. They have a remarkable ability to synchronise their movements and combine their efforts, however this can lead to difficulty when there is only one task to be done. Usually, one fercat acts as a spokesfercat for the rest.

Mode of Travel:

http://twistedsifter.sifter.netdna-cdn. ... r-1938.jpg

There are several stations aboard this mighty machine, each with its own important role. They are as follows:

Captain Dook - Stationed on the dashboard, has ultimate authority and is the spokesfercat for the group.
First Mate Dook - The second most prestigious position aboard falls to First Mate Dook, who operates the car's horn.
Navigators Dook and Dook - two fercats allocated to the passenger seat with all of the navigation equipment. Sextants, GPSes, Radar, 4Didar, an old book of maps and Mazan phrasebook.
Steersfercat Dook - Operates steering
Chief Engineer Dook - Operates accelerator and car keys
Assistant Engineer Dook - Operates brakes, gears and handbrake
Trainee Engineer Dook - Operates air conditioning and musical selection
Deckhands Dook - 14 auxiliary fercats.
"You can't just remain a root forever. Eventually you grow and change into other things, like stems and leaves and such. Are a tree's leaves an insult to its roots?" - Sade

"It is easy for a statesman, whether he be in the Cabinet or the Chamber, to blow a blast with the wind of popularity on the trumpet of war, warming himself the while at his own fireside; or to thunder orations from this tribune and then to leave it to the musketeer who is bleeding to death in the snow whether his system win fame and victory or no. There is nothing easier than that; but woe to the statesman who in these days does not look around him for a reason for war which will hold water when the war is over." - Otto von Bismarck

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Larcen
Duke
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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by Larcen » Fri Sep 14, 2012 12:51 am

Names: Tracey Arlington LeGore (driver) and Oare la Nimic (navigator)
Species: Coyote and Egyptian Fruit Bat, respectively
Genders: Male
Ages: 77 and 24

Appearance:
Tracey: Tracey is gangly, but his driving muscles are well-toned. He wears a button-down shirt, often plaid, with black jeans and cowboy boots, topped with a ten-gallon hat. Also, don't forget the turquoise belt buckle. For fancy occasions, he dons a silver bolo, a black shirt, and the hat gets a feathery ornament on the front. Tracey suffers from middle-ear and mild brain damage as the result of being kicked in the head by a mule as a pup. Whether or not it was an anthro mule is uncertain, for he seems to change the story every time. As a result, when he's not behind the wheel, Tracey wobbles and staggers as if intoxicated. Don't worry, he's had just as much experience not falling down as he has racing. His right eyelid droops, and the left corner of his mouth is pulled back in a perpetual, uncontrolled grin, revealing one solid-gold canine tooth. By the way, if you have trouble understanding what the heck he is saying, just remember: You ain't the only one.

Oare: Oare is far more conservative. He has an actual wardrobe, and is able to dress for most any occasion. In the car, he wears a set of sleeveless coveralls...you know, like race car drivers wear. Helmets interfere with his cybernetic implants, so he avoids them. Oare has something of a fashionable mullet of straw-colored hair. Not hick, more early 1990's sitcom. His large, apple-green eyes are always darting to and fro, reading the lips of everyfur in the room, gathering as much information as he can. A curious sort, he finds he learns more by keeping his mouth shut and ears open than the other way around.

Trading Card Information:

Tracey: Hailing from the backwoods and cutting his tires running moonshine, Tracey LeGore is a living legend of racing. With several championships under his belt, he easily ranked with Feila's winningest drivers, if not the top rank. The only problem is, most of his fan base is in retirement homes or has already been recycled. Tracey is getting on in years, and senility is beginning to set in, but he is convinced his racing skills are still sharp. Though he's past retirement age--in fact, he technically IS retired--Tracey has been winning trophies since before the other contestants' parents were conceived. His first racing win was at the age of six. The grisly ol' coyote in the ten-gallon hat (because helmets are for the sissies who crash) brings a lifetime of experience to the race, though his social skills and judgement are beginning to age. Tracey entered the Vorsian Race just to prove to the young guns that he still has it. But because he is used to driving on smaller tracks, Tracey needs a guide. He found...

Oare: This bat is the strong, silent type. Ok, at 5'6", 98lbs, maybe not so strong, unless you're talking mentally. In that, he's brilliant. Born deaf, modern cybernetics have restored his hearing...so long as everything is functioning properly. Oare's hobbies are reading, dance, and raising ancient varieties of fruit from heirloom seeds. He is something of a racing fan, but not the dye-one's-chest-fur type. Oare's greater passion than out-and-out racing is stunt driving. Lucky for him, his boss is like Richard Petty crossed with Bo Duke. The bat was selected by Tracey based on a chance meeting at a garden store, oddly enough. Seems the coyote's farming roots and the bat's hobby crossed. Tracey gets on Oare's nerves with his antics at times, but Oare is paid well enough to stick around.

Vehicle: The Flying Apopanax

Welded together by Trace's own posse of backwater colony rednecks according to his own designs, the Flying Apopanax is a repulsorlift amalgamation of all things overkill. Starting with a frame fabricated of I-beams for durability, it is supported by repulsors from a mining hauler to keep it off the ground, even after death-defying cliff jumps. The main thrusters were harvested from a heavy suborbital smuggling freighter, employing the extra power built into it for escaping pursuing authorities. For nimbleness and ease of control, Tracey hacked off the cockpit of an older sports car. And because Tracey is keen on self-reliance, the Apopanax's (Oare came up with the name. Tracey figured it sounded fancy enough to work) main cabin came from a large recreational vehicle. Most notably, on the rear of the craft, Tracey has added a modification, "a ol' moonshiner trick" borrowed from centuries-old technology--he has mounted two hand-fabricated afterburners, concealed behind retractable panels, just for an extra boost of blinding power. The entire craft appears to be a junkyard hit with a black-hole generator, liable to fly apart at any moment, but durability was something Tracey built to overkill as well. The vehicle is deceptively solid and capable of reaching ludicrous speed, especially for its size.
Last edited by Larcen on Sat Sep 15, 2012 12:34 am, edited 1 time in total.
"Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read." --Groucho Marx

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evil9731
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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by evil9731 » Fri Sep 14, 2012 8:51 pm

Guillaume walked around the Shockwave, clipboard in hand, checking off items on his list as he inspected them. NOTHING could go wrong, not only was this race the perfect testing ground for this design, but if it was successful he would gain contracts for more designs not to mention that the cash prize could keep him afloat for 3 lifetimes. He ran his hand along the smooth painted metal. having taken extra time to paint it himself, rather pleased with the purple color and neon green detailing. Climbed over the left tread and walked on it to the back of the tank and opened a hatch to take a quick glance at the nuclear engine inside. Pleased with what he saw he checked the last item off his list and closed the hatch before throwing the clipboard away over his shoulder. "And DONE! I got this in the bag! And even if I don't I'm gonna make it hell for the others." He grinned mischievously as he patted the massive Fusion Cannon with his paw.

He hopped down from the back of the tank and walked around to the side, climbing into the cab and sliding over to the operator's seat and doing a quick check of the panel, pleased with his work thus far. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms behind his head, putting his feet up on the dashboard. He pulled a small hand held data-pad from his pocket and pulled up the profiles on his fellow racers. Each person had free access to these profiles, although HOW they were going about the race was left off. "A team of Fercats... O... K... Strange, but worth noting. Coyote and Bat team, I know that coyote, dude shouldn't be racing anymore. Big Mann... I can't tell if that's his real name or not, engineer like me, I expect alot from him. And Hassin Patius. Rich man racing, he'll be down soon."

(POST: 2)
(REMAINING POST TILL START OF RACE: 8 )
what to say what to say?

so many knives, so little time.

madness makes the world go round, the world go round, the world go round. madness makes the world go round, oh the do dah day!

i am the shadow on the moon at night, filling your dreams to the brim with fright!

CHARACTERS: http://feila.org/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=6222

Like giant monsters AND a good plot to go behind them? Click on this to join the Rise of the Kaiju RP viewtopic.php?f=43&t=6634

Artashir
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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by Artashir » Fri Sep 14, 2012 9:56 pm

Ashrif entered one of the top skybox that overviewed the starting line, meeting the fresh scented air that was accustomed to his box. Inside, three people occupied the box; a well-dressed red vixen secretary and uniformed Ussuri brown bear bodyguard stood on either side of the middle seat, where the third occupant sat, the oldest of the Patius triplets in a black suit that fitted perfectly with his powerful build and dark brown pelt.

"How is he, Ash?" The elder asked, running a metal claw around the rim of his half-empty wine glass as he stared out at the tangy fruit mixture. "Excited as usual." Ashrif answered with a light chuckle before sitting down next to his brother in a chair a foot to his right. "As usual." The elder repeated and drank most of the mix.

"I wonder how he will do in this race." Ashrif thought outloud, "What do you think, Artashir?"

Art licked his muzzle to get a little bit of the fruit mix off his cheek, "He'll do fine and he should behave, his kids are watching this race too. If he loses this one, it wouldn't be a big loss to any of us anyway." Ashrif chuckled at Art's last comment.

"Brother, you shouldn't be so careless for our finances, what would Kaname say?" He teased and the elder Patius stood up, standing before the sturdy glass window, putting a large metallic paw behind his back.

"When you command a pyramid like ours, it tends to happen, but you know I am always careful with our finances, Little Brother." Artashir said and finished off his drink, feeling his violet-colored left optic glow in emotion. "Besides, we have already suffered greatly from the family curse once...and I don't attend to let that happen again."

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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by Bigfox3 » Sat Sep 15, 2012 1:48 am

Big grew wide-eyed as he re-read the rules for the race, driving up to the starting line in his Jeep. "Flight mechanisms are forbidden save for a period of twenty minutes within the entire race. Anyone exceeding this limit will be disqualified...well I suppose that helps, gives me a bit of wiggle room for escaping close calls, but I guess I can't fly through the whole race." His attire for the race was his usual casual wear; jeans, tennis shoes, and an open button down blue shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. If he was operating his machinery in varied climates and strenuous situations, he was gonna be comfortable. At least that was the logic.

Meanwhile, in a room adjacent to the lions, two vixens, one Arctic the other Red, were dressed very prettily for the occasion. The arctic fox girl had aqua-colored fur and silvery hair, her violet eyes examining all of what she could see of the course. She was wearing a navy leather jacket cut at navel length over a pretty fuschia dress with a flared skirt and a flower shaped from the material of the blouse joining either side of her neckline over her heart. The red fox was more conservatively dressed in a bittersweet red turtleneck with dark brown dress slacks. They wore matching heels to indicate that they were there together as friends.

When they were seated, the red fox activated a digital holographic monitor and started gather information on the course to send to Big. The arctic fox tested wore an old-fashioned headset and tested her communications frequency with Big, "Big-sweetie, are you at the starting line~?" she asked him sweetly, being his girlfriend. Big was delighted to hear from her, "Yes I am, Relena, and I can hear and...see you loud and clear!" he said as his visual portion of his communication system kicked in. "How can you SEE someone loud and clear, Big?" the red fox caught him on his slip-up. "You know what I meant Tala," he countered, to which she bit back, "The only two people that ever do are seated here in this room." Tala was their mutual best friend, and she really acted like an older sister to the two of them even though Big was the oldest. The two girls also were very intelligent, each skilled in various areas of expertise, proving the old adage of foxes being clever even when Big fought it.

"The race will be starting soon enough, are you receiving the information I'm sending you, Big?" Tala continued. Big affirned, "Yes, and I'm planning out routes now with the parameters of the race in mind. There's a pretty clear stretch to the first Biome, so once I'm there, I'll get back with you, okay?" Relena cheered, "Good luck~ <3" and giggled at him. That got Big fired up, and he figured he'd startle the competition by transforming the car immediately.

After pressing a button, the Jeep began to elongate, and the cabin closed in on itself. The paint was slightly holographic, and so it was able to change from the white of the Jeep to the standard yellow-and-blue motif he'd used on the jet for what was becoming the race car, sleek in design and ready for action. "Transformation capabilities, check, weapon and defense systems, check, communications, check, music, check when I'm done talking to the girls, refreshments..." he pressed another button and a cup materialized in the big cup holder, filling with his favorite soda and extending a bendy straw to his face so he wouldn't have to bend over. He took a sip, "Check."
The Dessert War never happened, but I'm deluded enough that I've convinced myself I already won. :3

My Character Library
Click here to see my Deviantart page!

Image

`/-(_)-\=~~~~
/Gamma\==-------
'OoOoOoO'
'SPAMMA TANK' GAMMA Created by Shade
Advanced AI Tank

Big's quick link to the IRC chat box for those who can never find the thing, like me! 8D

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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by JamesG » Sun Sep 16, 2012 5:16 am

Dook.

Dookdook. Dook.

Dookdookdookdookdook!

The Dooks dooked. All was going just as the Captain had foreseen. The plan to buy a spaceship to lease it to a bad debtor to get him sent to a debtor's prison-ship to convey a message to their shady contact inquiring about the sugar bowl that they needed to settle a deal with the Immortal's Club in order to retrieve the silver kettle in which a group of otters had hidden their car keys for the Mustelid New Year traditional practical joke had gone perfectly.

Dook.

The fercats had formed a comfortable pile of slinky, brown furred bodies on the seat of the car, paws and pink noses sticking out at odd angles. They were quietly resting before the race they had entered. Their reasons for entering the race were as mysterious as the fercats themselves. Nobody knew quite how rich they were, or where they came from, or if they were actually an extension of the Immortals Club. Certainly, an uncountable amount of shiny, shiny prize money was enough to tempt anyone with a fast motor and a penchant for deadly endurance racing. But was there more? Did the fercats race because deep down, no amount of money can replace the thrill and roar of the motor, the wind blowing in their masked faces, the sense of being truly alive?

Dook.

The beady eyes of the Dooks betrayed nothing. No joy, nor fear, anger, love or hate. Just beadiness. As they solemnly assumed their positions, Captain Dook mounted the dashboard, and beadily eyed the starting line. He judged the other contestants with those dark, judging eyes. None but a fercat could tell his judgement. As if they all suddenly had shared a private joke, the swarm of Dooks began dooking loudly again. Some speculated the group was a hive mind, through cybernetics. Others thought it was more a fraternal bond that helped them coalesce their thoughts and actions.

The vehicle they had chosen, whose keys were mentioned to have been contained in the silver kettle, was bold. Black. Swishy. It had sweeping lines and a tall grill that covered the quiet hum of the nuclear engine. It had an automatic champagne server that poured out glasses for two. It had an ejection seat for no discernibly practical reason. Brown leather seating that permanently smelt like New Car. The wheels were white instead of black. It was bulletproof, heat-proof, child-proof, idiot-proof and it had sensors to detect when that bastard is going to pull out right in front of you and it's YOUR RIGHT OF WAY DAMNIT. In short, it was a very valuable piece of machinery for very discerning Dooks. The silver kettle mentioned earlier sat in the passenger seat, shining gloriously in the sun and bringing joy and good cheer to those that beheld it. It was truly a magnificent kettle.

The fercats waited, pink noses twitching.

Dook.
"You can't just remain a root forever. Eventually you grow and change into other things, like stems and leaves and such. Are a tree's leaves an insult to its roots?" - Sade

"It is easy for a statesman, whether he be in the Cabinet or the Chamber, to blow a blast with the wind of popularity on the trumpet of war, warming himself the while at his own fireside; or to thunder orations from this tribune and then to leave it to the musketeer who is bleeding to death in the snow whether his system win fame and victory or no. There is nothing easier than that; but woe to the statesman who in these days does not look around him for a reason for war which will hold water when the war is over." - Otto von Bismarck

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Larcen
Duke
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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by Larcen » Tue Sep 18, 2012 10:30 pm

As the crowd started to gather in the stands and behind their telescreens, a pair of bats landed on the skybox. Who needed to wait for the official shuttle when you had your own wings? Cila and Jarix alighted on the skybox and banged on the glass for someone to let them in.

"Vai, you vere right, dear. Ve should have jusht vaited like everyvun else," Cila said, rubbing the knob-like wrist of her wing. Stupid hard glass hurt.

Jarix rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to reply without saying I told you so, because he totally had. "Don't worry, my love. Someone will be by soon." Cila took his hand in her wing and smiled, and the two of them perched under the roof of the skybox. "So your cousin is in the--which one again?"

Cila shook her head, smiling. "Like I have told you, the...ahm...vhere on earth is Oare, anyvay?" She asked rhetorically, squinting down at the field. "Has that crazy coyote gotten losht--?"

But before she could finish the question, a rumble that shook the skybox's windows came from below. A chimera of a hulk, roughly the size and almost the weight of the purple and green battle tank, hovered and jolted into the garage, a little late. Inside, the long shot legend cursed at his designs. The Flying Apopanax's engines were geared for high-thrust action to move a much larger vessel, much MUCH faster. Therefore, this 5mph idling was hard to control, for it required a fly's weight of pressure on the accelerator, getting it into a confined parking space in the garage. The entire bay filled with black smoke. Finally, mercifully, Tracey extended the landing gear--harvested from a private hover yacht--and killed the engine.

"HEY BOY! AH SAYED..." Oops...Oare had turned his ears off for the duration of the parking sequence. Tracey had refused his help at first, so Oare had shut out the cursing. But now it was time to turn them on.

"...YOU LISS'NIN?!" Oare cringed and nodded. "Oh," the coyote apologized. "Well blink yer eye-bawls 'r sum'm. Crim'ny heck, boy. Anyway, I'mma look 'er o'er 'fore the rayce. Why'ncha fetch m' a col' drank whal I does it?" Oare rolled his eyes and nodded, before wandering off.

Meanwhile, Tracey clambered around his vehicle, running checks. And by running checks, the author here means that the coyote kicked key areas around the ship, making sure nothing fell off. He climbed inside each afterburner to make sure they were clean enough. Tracey climbed back in the cockpit and played with the controls, listening for any anomalies. His mechanical aptitude had been tuned over the years to be keen enough that visuals were rendered redundant. Mere sounds and vibrations spoke enough to him to know exactly what the problem was.

In the meantime, Oare had found the refreshments stand and ordered a drink for himself and his employer. He took the long way back, looking around the competition. An interesting lot indeed. The furry little creatures caught his eye and curiosity. He quietly sneaked over to the classy, sleek vehicle they operated and stared for a bit, watching the fercats do their work.
"Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read." --Groucho Marx

You say 'fundamentalist' like it's a bad thing. X3

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evil9731
Baron
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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by evil9731 » Fri Sep 21, 2012 12:02 am

Guillaume hopped down from the cab of his tank and took a quick look around the garage. He saw a bat looking into a sleek car that, wait- was that a ferret? Nah. He spotted a transforming car, a chimera of a beast and Lion sitting off all by himself at the moment. Unlike some of the others who had opted for a skybox, G was in direct contact with his ship just a bit above orbit. His pilot droid J3-33v5, or JEEVES, would be giving him navigational help and update him on anything going on outside of his tank's sensor range. Having seen enough the Lynx ran back on over to his tank and slide back into the cab, flipping on various systems until the Tank lifted off from the ground, a blue energy glowing under the tank and keeping it about 4 feet off the ground. He piloted the tank out of the Garage and began to make his way towards the starting gate, the race was about to begin.

(POST NUMBER: 7)
(POSTS UNTIL START: 3)
what to say what to say?

so many knives, so little time.

madness makes the world go round, the world go round, the world go round. madness makes the world go round, oh the do dah day!

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Artashir
Outlaw
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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by Artashir » Fri Sep 21, 2012 12:16 am

Hassin walked toward the starting line, his armored feet clicked with each step, checking his sunglasses before putting them on. Glancing to the side, he saw the lynx's tank hovering beside him. Smirking at the nice design, Hassin wiggles his ears at kept watching of the vehicle.

Guillaume, nice name. Something about that ringed a ancient bell to him but he didn't put it into much thought. Passing by some pit crew, Hassin turned around to look at the skyboxes. His red optic scanned and found the signatures of his brothers' optics. Zooming, he saw Artashir standing at the window, and the elder brother rose a glass to him, knowing he was being watched.

With a quick smile, Hassin spun back around and stepped on the starting line, looking at the giant metal door that hid the first course. Time to make his brothers and cubs proud!
Last edited by Artashir on Fri Sep 21, 2012 12:40 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Bigfox3
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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by Bigfox3 » Fri Sep 21, 2012 12:31 am

Big heard the signal that heralded the racers to the starting line and made his way over himself, finally taking note of the unusual pilots inside of the black car. He locked eyes with the fercat, and shuddered, looking away immediately. There was more than one of those things in that car, and they gave him the creeps already. He amended his strategy to keep an eye on the trail of the fercats he'd heard about, and stay AS FAR AWAY AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE. "Big...are you alright?" Relena asked through the comm. "Y-yeah, just some pre-race jitters is all," he said. He pulled up to the starting line, focusing on the race ahead, and ready to implement his strategy. He wiped sweat from his brow as the signal to start was about to go off. Every second would count, and he was ready.
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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by JamesG » Fri Sep 21, 2012 1:18 am

"Drivers..." The announcer's voice echoed over the speakers, "Start your engines!"

Captain Dook beadily eyed the fruit bat, whose green eyes caught his attention. The fercat stared at the bat for a moment. Then the fercats began moving at once, as if they wanted to show the bat what he was up against. A fercat turned the ignition, another pressed buttons on the dashboard. The engine hummed softly, smoothly. A computerised voice intoned from the speakers.

"Reaction at full capacity."

The nuclear engine had a readout on a screen on the dashboard, showing internal temperatures, turbine speeds and flow rates of coolant. The big vehicle was ready to tear off the start line, controlled by nothing more than the will of fercats. Next to the screen was a big red button behind a plastic cover. Another fercat opened the cover and flicked off the button's safety. The word 'SCRAM" was written on it in white letters, which meant the Dook operating it was the scramcat. If the reactor experienced a failure or began to overheat, the button would force the safety control rods in, cutting off the reaction. Of course, scramcat Dook would have only a few second to do so before the reactor blew the hood off.

Whilst this was going on, Trainee Engineer Dook put on their first musical selection of smooth jazz. Fercats are well known to react well to jazz, it helps their ferrety catty minds keep calm and in focus. The speakers were up pretty loud, so the other contestants could hear the faint strains of a saxophone. Other fercats opened the glovebox and began handing out leather driving goggles to the crew. The Fercats pulled them over their beady eyes and dooked in satisfaction.

Once the drivers were ready, the starting lights glowed amber, reflected against the beady eyes of the captain as he watched. The Dooks tensed up as another amber light came on. The road stretched out ahead of them, lifeless and quiet, as if in anticipation. The final amber light came on. The concentration of the fercats was now focused on one thing only; the race.

The green light flashed.

Dookdookdookdookdookdookdookdookdook!

Chief Engineer Dook hit the accelerator and the Dooks dooked and clung on as the smooth black car roared from the starting line, jazz echoing across the plains. The computer switched to autothrottle and began calling out their speed in kilometres an hour. "One-Hundred. One-Hundred and Forty. One-Hundred and Eighty. Two-Hundred." The fercats had sped off at such a rate to send a message to the other racers; they meant business.

Steersfercat Dook had both paws on the steering wheel, goggled eyes staring straight ahead, his beady vision augmented to predict turns in the road. The car's computer could help to some degree as it scanned ahead, but the car still responded to commands. At the moment the road twisted gently through rolling dunes and rippled sands, as far as the fercats could see. Navigators Dook and Dook poked their masked head up and stared at the passing sea of sands. They deduced that this was, indeed, the desert portion of the race.

The Dooks sped on, the wind ruffling their brown fur. The race was on, and things were looking good for the fercats.
"You can't just remain a root forever. Eventually you grow and change into other things, like stems and leaves and such. Are a tree's leaves an insult to its roots?" - Sade

"It is easy for a statesman, whether he be in the Cabinet or the Chamber, to blow a blast with the wind of popularity on the trumpet of war, warming himself the while at his own fireside; or to thunder orations from this tribune and then to leave it to the musketeer who is bleeding to death in the snow whether his system win fame and victory or no. There is nothing easier than that; but woe to the statesman who in these days does not look around him for a reason for war which will hold water when the war is over." - Otto von Bismarck

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Larcen
Duke
Posts: 1057
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Re: The 654th Annual Interplanetary Vosian Race (OPEN)(NonCa

Post by Larcen » Wed Sep 26, 2012 10:31 pm

Even with functioning implants, Oare still sorta spaced out, watching the little furrballs do their work. As such, it was only when he heard the end of the announcer's...announcement that he snapped to attention. EEK! He needed to be in the cockpit NOW. Surely Tracey would be raising a soul-scorching string of curses at him, but thank the Provider for that little 'OFF' switch on the bat's implants. Oare whipped his head this way and that, wondering what to do with the drinks in his wings. He could not run with them, but he could not find a place to set them down either. With a hopeless cringe, he dropped both to the floor and sprinted, flapping his wings to gain speed. Sorry, janitorial staff, but that was what those guys were paid for, right?

No sooner had he started running than a deafening roar blasted through the garage as Tracey fired up the thrusters. The Flying Apopanax rose to a [fairly] steady foot and a half above the floor, a pale green glow coming from the underside. Thank the Provider for decibel regulators too. Oare flapped, leaping Ducks of Hazzard-style into the cockpit, to which Tracey tipped his hat. Didn't know the boy had it in him.

"Shee-yoot, boy. I 'as 'bout riddy ter up 'n let ya har. Wha'were y' DOON' out thar?" On the contrary, Trace would never really have left his navigator there, of course. Oare ducked his head and grinned sheepishly in apology, then rolled his eyes. At least the coyote had forgotten about the cold drinks. Senility had its virtues.

"Now hang onna yer fangs 'n set back." Oare put on his seatbelt, fighting to accommodate his considerable wingspan. Tracey's paw jammed the throttle forward, and his copilot's eyeballs nearly bounced off of the back of his head. The Flying Apopanax blew out the door to the garage, melting the toolboxes along the back wall. The beast swung sideways, it's heavy rear end causing a fishtail. The right rear corner clipped a guardrail, shattering one of the Apopanax's tail lights, but a hillbilly lived for wreckless handling. Tracey righted his craft and sped away, the needle showing just over 130 km/hr.

Oh, right. Kinda slow, ain't it? Not really. See, the cockpit of the Flying Apopanax was originally built for passenger conveyance, in places where 85mph was the legal limit for production vehicles. Now because this mutant of a vehicle was designed for racing, it was actually travelling much, MUCH faster. When it got up to speed on a good, straight road, she could top out in the 500 km/hr range. Besides, Tracey's racing philosophy did not much care for speedometers. To put it in his own words, "I tell y'wut...don' ma'er how fay-ist cher goin'. If'n y'see cars afronna ya, ya need ter go fayister, ain't?!" Of course, he himself would probably add in a cackle at the end, but the author is not him, so that is all you are going to get.

At any rate, seeing as how they were still leaving the city, Tracey backed off the repulsorlifts, causing the craft to sink lower to the ground, a mere six inches, then hammered on the throttle, launching forth to make up for lost ground. The afterburners had limited fuel supply, so the cunning coyote kept them in reserve.

---------------

Meanwhile, back in the booth, Cila was growing impatient. The boys had just screamed by, and her feet were getting tired of hanging from the skybox's underside. She pulled out her com-link and dialed a certain lion.

"Hallo? Mishter Artashir? Dahling? Shveetie? Vould you mind terribly much opening the vindow and letting myself and Jarixsh in, please? Ve vould be mosht grateful." Jarix winced at the veiled rage in her sarcasm. That much excess politeness meant his lovebat was starting to smolder. There really was something of an intolerable wind blowing out there, and banging on the window earlier had done nothing. Besides, the skybox featured no external drink dispension terminals.
"Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read." --Groucho Marx

You say 'fundamentalist' like it's a bad thing. X3

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