A Canter is a Cure for Every Evil, Mando Festival Event

[Ja'swi Rahl]

Of course Ja’swi couldn’t see the horses, but she could smell them. And, stars, did they smell. The Horansi didn’t like the scent of manure, nor the way the beasts spooked away from her when she tried to approach one, but there was no helping it. This was the event she’d been assigned with organizing for the festival the Rahls were hosting, and by the Manda, she was going to organize it well.

The event was given an open invitation; any Mando’ad who could ride a horse could participate. With the help of her ad, Ja’swi mapped out a grueling cross-country course that would test the mettle of any experienced rider, and then got to work on figuring out the prizes. And they were juicy prizes if she did say so herself. Carefully selected bundles, combinations of weaponry, armor upgrades, and other lovely tidbits any Mandalorian would kill to win.

Well, she actually hoped there would be no killing in this event. This wasn’t the Great Hunt or some hodgepodge. Just a horserace. Today was the big day.

Standing at the starting line, the Horansi still towered over many of the mounted riders, even hunched over her datapad as she was. There wasn’t much more she could do once the shot went off and the racers thundered away, but she would be listening to the commentators, hoping for success. For those with sight, a huge holoprojector was broadcasting the race to spectators.

She knew it was about to start by the hush that fell over the gathered crowd. The booted footsteps of the master of ceremonies seemed all the louder on the dirt road which stretched between the Rahl homesteads, the rolling farmlands, and then dove into the dark forests surrounding the clan’s lands. Slowly, the MC raised his single shot pistol, eying each of the racers over the gorget of his beskar’gam, daring one of them to cheat. And then he pulled the trigger, and the breath the crowd had been holding was unleashed in a wild roar as the racers took off from the starting line.

---

Okay, so this is the first event thread! Have some rules:

• Any Mandalorian can join whether they have a lifetime of experience or they only just figured out what a horse was yesterday.
• There's no limit on how many folks can join.
• No posting order! If you wanna get your post in, do it.
• There’s a potential for injury here, but not death! Unless you’re willing to be trampled or something.
• Try and post at least once per round. Each round will be one week from my last post, unless all the participants manage to post, in which case it’ll be shorter. If you miss the deadline, you’re out of the race!
• Between posts, I can throw little individual posts at you, if you like, but nothing that'll affect race placement. Perhaps there will be goodies involved, though.
• After about round two, the event will close. Besides If you tried to join then, you’d be way behind the other racers.

Important!
Rate what you think your character’s riding skill is on a scale of 1 to 10 in a PM to Ja’swi or your joining post.

Next Post: February 27th

Prizes
Pick a bundle! But only if you are winrar.

Space Has No Air
This is for all the folks who can’t resist rushing out their airlock and taking a space walk.

• Life Support System
• Mark V Environment Underlay
• Mark III Ballistic Shielding Overlay
• Mitrinomon Z-6 Personal Jetpack (Modified with articulated thrusters for greater precision in space flight, a larger fuel cell, and a connection to the armor’s HUD for instantaneous commands.)

Here In the Shadows
There’s shooting things from a distance, and that’s all well and good, but nothing’s quite as satisfying as getting up close and personal. With sharp objects.

• Energy Sword (Customizable shape)
• Vac Attack Mk-127W
• Knuckleplate Vibroblade (Made of beskar. Modified to be thinner but have greater length and a casing with a slimmer profile. Can be strapped to the inside of the wrist for totally ripping off Assassin’s Creed.)
• Baragwin Stealth Unit

There’s No Kill Like Overkill
This is for those with the ‘maximum fire power, blow your enemies into tiny little unrecognizable bits’ mindset. Maybe you need help?

• Heavy Lightning Rifle
• PLX-2M Portable Missile Launcher
• Thermal Detonator
• Big Shock Upgrade

Participants: John Ischoron, Tamzin Ha'rangir, Dominick Fett, Cor Ischoron

That's it, everyone! Hope you have fun.

[John Ischoron]

Riding ability rank: 10

John’s fingers tightened around the reins, pulling gently back as the large Ischoron draught stepped up to the starting line. He was out of armour and the horse was properly kitted out, a comfortable yet simple saddle, designed for such sport as the cross country obstacle course and race that was set before them. The calm draught pawed at the ground with his saucer sized hooves, head turning to regard the other horses. In nature, it was much like John, calm and unassuming beyond its size, but had proven time and again that despite its calm nature it did not take competitions like races lightly.

He had not initially wished to partake in competitions, as the usual fare was battle circle duels and speeder races, but when he had heard of the cross country he had not hesitated. He had always been told that he had to partake in more events, get to know the Mando’ade Aliit more closely than before, now that he was aliit’alor. Such an event seemed perfect, and he could meet those Mando’ade who shared his passion for horsemanship. It seemed pointless to not come to honour the event set up by the Rahl’s, as both alor of Ischoron and a rider.

It would be interesting to see who entered, he could already see several younger Ischoron’s on the heavy horses of the aliit, but they all seemed quite disgruntled to see him. The Ischoron’s knew of his reputation and how long he had ridden, and recognised him as an obvious threat to their winning the race. John gave them all the impassive nod he was known for, and they returned it. He allowed the edge of his mouth to quirk slightly and the Ischoron’s manner changed, grins widening at the subtle challenge their alor had delivered, horses trotted in place as their riders became restless.

John’s horse stood still, right front hoof balanced on the tip as they waited for the master of ceremonies, but when the hush fell and the mood of the crowd changed, John and his horse quickened up considerably. The large draft flexed its muscles, pulled at the bit gently, telling John that it was ready. John pushed his heels down in the stirrups, steeling himself for the start.

He held a firm grip on the reins, keeping the horse in its place, leaning slightly forward in preparation. His focus was on the dirt road ahead and the anticipated sound of the starting pistol. When it went off with a loud bang, he tightened his legs around the horse’s flanks and gave the horse more rein, surging forward with the rest of the riders. Some were ahead, but John kept his distance. Cross country was about stamina, not about speed. How long the horse could keep up an acceptable speed and cover the obstacles. Give too much in the beginning and you wouldn’t have enough for the end.

[Tamzin Ha'rangir]

Riding ability rank: 1

This was a colossal mistake. Zin knew that as she struggled with the horse. She was Haran and commanded the blackest of the Gaan'dalase's mighty basilisks. It had been stupid of her to believe that because she held mastery over one the other would come easily. She had not believed it at first, but Zin had found a beast more willful that Demagolka. The horse did as it wished and there seemed little that Zin could do to persuade it otherwise.

A few had taken pity upon Zin as she feebly dug her heels into its sternum and shook the reins about its neck, and given her some instruction. Before their valued assistance, she had resorted to pleading and bribery. The horse had just whinnied at her. Next came the threats. The blank and dead expression the horse gave Zin made her feel slightly silly. This was not a creature that she could reason with.

Once she had managed to draw the horse to the starting line, she recounted how she had come to this disastrous decision. Zin had never seen a horse before today. She had heard of them and seen holos, but never in person. This could have been excused as she had grown up upon a starship and a pasture was something that she had only heard about. The exotic nature of the beasts and the challenge posed were the first things that caught Zin's attention. It would be a new experience, a change from the norm, and Zin was all about that. She had marched off to find the event coordinator and put her name down.

As her mind wondered, so did the horse. It had spied a tuft of grass off to the left and had lead Zin over to it. Once she noticed what the beast was doing, she tried to correct it. It just snorted in distain and did what it wanted. Knowing that this was a battle that she wasn't going to win, Zin resigned to letting the horse eat. She reluctantly looked up the line of other riders and frowned at the mastery displayed over their mounts. Turning ruefully to stare down at hers, she pinned the back of its mane with an expression that said, why couldn't you be a good horse like them?

They were almost ready to start and Zin had had enough of this horse's rebellious streak. She yanked on the reins and pulled its head from the grass. It tried to dip back down and they engaged in a tug of war for a few moments before the horse gave up. Zin smiled triumphantly at the tiny victory. She waited for the starting pistol with adrenaline buzzing through her veins. The bang came suddenly and the horse bolted before she was ready, taking off with the rest of the pack. Zin bit off a curse as she squeezed the saddle with her thighs and tried to hold on for dear life.

[Dominick Fett]

Riding ability rank: 6

It had been too long since Dominick had been atop one of the living steeds that the Ischorons favored so well. As well-bred and fast as this steed seemed, it couldn't fly through atmosphere and it surely didn't have thrusters burning out its ass. The black-coated beast also had a distinct lack of lasers coming from it's head and chest. All in all, the horse was much less intimidating and much slower than the Basilisk that he was accustomed to piloting.

Not to mention, it had a mind of its own, needed to be fed on a regular basis, smelled funny, and didn't really need to do anything that Dom told it to.

Why was he doing this again?

He steered the steed to the starting line, offering smarmy grins and cocky winks to those that he passed. He recognized many of the competitors, mostly those that he was raised with, but he also saw strangers among the racers. John, the head of Clan Ischoron was there, as was Cor Ischoron, one of the men that he'd grown up with since arriving at the compound as a small boy.

The horses had always been a large part of Ischoron culture. Dominick may have been a Fett, but the Mando'ade here had always treated him like family and included him in their traditions. He was grateful for that, but he'd always preferred flying his Basilisk. There was a reason that he'd signed up for the Alliance squadron, after all. It offered him a chance to fight for his people while doing a bit of Galaxy-seeing.

Being home, as nice as it was, was only offering competition at this point. Dom wasn't the best rider in the world, but he was one of the most competitive bastards on this planet. He made a quick adjustment to the hat on his head, making sure that the string that ran through it would prevent the wind from taking it away.

Dominick guided the obsidian horse, with white socks, towards the starting line, where he allowed it to nose through the dirt for whatever food it could dig up. Along with most of the other horses, it pawed restlessly. If Dom had been in its position, he would have been the same. The wait for the starting pistol was agonizing, and nearly enough to send his heart beating out of his chest. He did his best to clear his mind and collect his scattered thoughts. When that gunshot went off, he'd be one step closer to the prizes and the glory.

Maybe after he won, he would make Cor buy him a drink or four. And hell, maybe he'd pay for a couple by himself.

[Cor Ischoron]

Riding ability rank: 6

Cor's basilisk was a thing of construct. It was made of wires. Metal. Electricity. Reactions, which were meant to do one thing: Cor's will. What Cor commanded Dominator to do, he did, and there was barely any contest. Sometimes Dominator would inform him before making a stupid decision, but he always ended up doing it if Cor overrided the protest. The worst times for or were when Dominator wasn't around to inform him of a stupid decision. It's why cor preferred piloting.

But, while he was a good pilot, he had taken an interest in commanding living mounts years ago. Horses were a very good way to exercise this interest. As he had found out on a hunting trip with his friends once, Zakkegs were not. Horses were the best domesticated animals, in his opinion, but his work and duties had not afforded him time enough to hone his skills for this race. He hadn't even ridden a horse in two years, and he was here, at this event, trying to win it.

Just two days ago, he had strangled a man while the gi'e was attempting to drive a knife into Cor's neck. Now, he was racing on a horse. How times change. Cor had made his way to Mandalore for the annual race and his father had located a suitable horse. Bonding quickly, he was now the horse's best friend.

Unfortunately, Yasala had name it Blaze for the smattering of white on its otherwise grey face. Cor, as with all things that are Yasala's idea, was opposed to this, but the name stuck. He accepted it with a sour look and was now here, in the lines, waiting for the starting shot. The race's course was familiar to Cor, having been a contender in past races, but never placing very highly in the ranks of contenders.

Blaze shifted nervously below him, sensing Cor's thoughts of inadequacy. He eased him with a slight pressure of his knees, patting him on the neck. Glancing around, he noticed the their riders and crowd stilling suddenly. He looked at the raised arm of the MC and braced himself. The reins in his hands, gripped both between his thumb and index finger and between his ring fingers and pinkies, were gripped harder as he hunched over slightly and splayed his elbows out, the ever-present smirk replaced by a determined look.

The heavy sound of a projectile being fired by a slugthrower rang out, and Cor set Blaze off in a light gallop. He did not want to start slow, but he didn't want to wear the horse out, either, so Blaze continued at a conservative pace as the other riders surged in their own actions around him.

[Ja'swi Rahl]

The veritable herd of horses and Mandalorians kicks up a massive billow of dust that can be seen for miles on the flat farmlands. They are off to a thunderous start over the Rahl lands, soon to come across the first obstacles.

Tamzin’s horse might have rushed ahead against her will, but it quickly proves itself to possess both stamina and fleetness of foot. Beneath her sparse guidance, it quickly brings her to the head of the stampede. Cor sees the Handmaiden as she passes, and Blaze, competitive as he is, throws himself into match her horse’s pace. Further back in the line both John and Dom are keeping up a slower but steady pace, though John is doing a fine job of keeping Dom at his tail.

The farmlands rush by the competitors and soon enough the road beneath them fades away into pasture, and they all come upon their first obstacle. A small aqueduct, constructed of both natural quarry rock and duracrete crosses the set path. Only five feet high, it’s hardly a challenge for Mando born and bred horses. Tamzin’s steed demonstrates this without fail, charging the obstacle and soaring over it, to regain its footing and rush ahead.

Unfortunately, some riders just before Cor lose their footing and two of the horses go tumbling over the rock barrier, screaming. The sight and sounds only make Blaze balk and as the stallion comes up on the aqueduct, and rears, pacing a few times before Cor can urge him forward again. In that time, both Dom and John clear the barrier ahead of him. Soon after, Dom finds a way to wind around John, claiming the place just behind Tamzin.

Ahead of them, the forest that surrounds the Rahl homelands looms, dark even in the day times. Everyone knows many dangers lurk in its depths. Best be prepared.

((This puts Tamzin at the front, Dom in second, John in third, and Cor in fourth. How you manage things is up to you!

Next Post: February 27th))

[Tamzin Ha'rangir]

It was all she could do to hang on and not get thrown. Some portion of the instruction she received before the race had started returned and she stood in the saddle, heels pressing down into the stirrups and leaning slightly forward. The necessity to make this move become painfully apparent the second the horses bolted from the line and her rear had slammed back into the saddle as the horse bolted. Zin thought it was about to throw her with the savagery of the blows, each one jackhammering through her abdominals and into her chest. Standing, if that was the word for it, hadn't come easily either. Only coordination and mettle had saved her from toppling forward in the stirrups and falling under the steel tipped hooves that pounded the ground beneath them.

Zin's eyes watched the grass flash beneath her in a sea of bright green mottled with islands of brown. The faint feeling of disorientation made Zin raise her eyes to the course laid before her. It took the Gaan'dalase by surprise when she saw no one in front of her. She entertained a brief panic that this nightmare of an animal had taken off on some whim or fancy and promptly exited from the race. Zin was already groaning inwardly, but she could still hear the thundering of hooves and threw a glance over her shoulder. To say that Zin was surprised that she was winning would have been an understatement.

This changed everything and she took back every nasty thing she had said about this wonderful animal. Then she saw the frightfully high aqueduct blocking her path and was reminded what a dreadful mistake this race had been. Zin's horse showed no signs of stopping and for an awful second she thought the horse hadn't seen the obstacle blocking their path. She imagined the horse hitting it with full force, it screaming in that terrible way they did, and her being catapulted thirty feet to be trampled by those following. Suddenly being in first place didn't seem that great.

Zin clenched her jaw and braced herself for the inevitable, and then the horse leapt the aqueduct. Zin hooted as the front hooves impacted the grass and the hoot became a panicked noise as inertia carried her forward and thumped into the horse's thick neck. She pushed away quickly and righted herself in the saddle, spitting coarse black hair from the horse's mane. She heard screams behind her and chanced a glance over her shoulder to see her imagination realized in the fate of others.

Her lead was tenuous at best and the commotion caused by the aqueduct was soon overcome by the competence of the riders and the skill of their steeds. Zin made a face as she faced forward and focused one her own situation, glad that she had made it across before the smashing of horse against quarried stone. A forest loomed on the edge of the meadow she raced across and already it was doing its best to impress badly upon her.

[Cor Ischoron]

As the roar of the crowd drowned out the shot of the single-firing slugthrower, Blaze's movements matched those around him. Cor could feel the horse's powerful muscles stretch, tense, and stretch again in a rhythmic, familiar motion as he leaned down to reduce aerodynamic interference. The horses around him were beneath his notice; once again, Cor drifted on a cloud, lost to the activity of focusing on the horse below him and the land before him. He did not look to the left or right of him, instead leaning heavily, tail end slightly raised, legs tensed in the stirrups.

It had been a long time since he rode, but the battle saddle of the basilisk was no different from a horse, if Cor put thought into it. He still leaned over, the control yoke was in his hands in a practiced manner, and he issued commands to Dominator much the same way: with shouted words. As Blaze rode, Cor spurred him on with shouted words in Mando'a, instead of slapping his flanks like he had seen an arutiise do once. The thought sickened him.

The landscape blurred by in a blaze of green, brown, and various colors of flowers situated on the side of the selected area for the race. Blaze handled a small depression in the grass well, hopping over it gracefully and without losing speed. Cor took a moment to look beside him-he was racing beside the gaan'dalase. She was slowly but surely passing him, and the other two nearby to him were looking at her as well.

She did not look like a horse racer. She clutched the horse like it was her last hope to live, and was looking sickly at the ground. Cor's face became troubled as he realized what was wrong. A complete and total newbie was passing him. He snarled to himself and leaned down further into the horse's mane, yelling in a frustrated manner.

The first obstacle came into view, an obstacle which Cor had studied. It was an aqueduct, a thing constructed of duracrete and water, built into the landscape to provide water for the masses. Cor surged confidently to put on an extra bustr of speed as Tamzin cleared the obstacle with reckless abandon.

However, the two riders in front of him weren't so lucky. Screaming, they went down, splashing and colliding with a sickening crunch. A horse screamed as its rider flew over the aqueduct. Cor could see him land at a roll and scramble to avoid being stampeded to death. He squeezed with his knees to surge Blaze on, shouting a command, but Blaze was having non of this.

He drew to a stop by slamming his hooves into the ground, skidding to a screeching halt as the other horsed surged around him. Cor watched the horse's flanks as they hopped over the obstacle, then slapped Blaze's reins against his neck to the right. Blaze obeyed, starting with a leap, cantering around the obstacle like a champ. Cor snapped the reins to the left again and spurred the horse on with a shout, holding on his his legs as the sudden motion of galloping threw him back into the saddle with a whump.

Great. He was in last now. While he was not galloping before, now he was, pumping the horse for all it was worth.

[John Ischoron]

John was not ahead of the pack, but that affected him little, considering it was all according to plan. Let the youths run themselves ragged trying to keep the lead, he would bide his time in the back and spare his horses energy until the last leg of the race. Then his mount could show its true colours, but not yet. His focus was on the horse he rode and the path ahead, seeing the lead horse and its rider, noting that the rider seemed to have little experience with riding a horse. The horse itself seemed to be handling itself well, if a little eager.

The gravel crunch of the road beneath the massive horses hooves was a rhythmic drum to John’s own heartbeat, a sharper sound than the organic motion of blood being pumped, not that he could hear it over the hooves of the herd of horses racing alongside, but he knew, as all the years of riding had familiarised him with the different sounds. The sudden change from the harder gravelled ground to the softer pasture was easy to tell, the horses gait changing imperceptly as the softer ground was easier on its legs, the earth gently giving way to the weight of the horse before it sped away over the grass.

Ahead he could see the first obstacle, an easy start, and he saw the lead horse jump over it with little difficulty, neither horse nor rider balking. Those who came after were less fortunate, horses hesitating to jump, the riders behind colliding, creating a mess of yells and shrieks from horses. One horse balked and backed away, its rider moving it out of the way of the rest of the riders. John rushed past, his horse jumping the obstacle, leaving the rider who had decided to go around behind.

Ahead was the forest, which meant the ground would go from the soft pasture to the harder forest ground, not quite as hard as the road, but harder, more packed, secured by the tree roots. John wondered what other obstacles had been thought up ahead. The one behind him was no doubt only a small taste of what was to come. Would the inexperienced rider in the lead be able to overcome them? John had faith that even an inexperienced Mandalorian in the saddle could overcome such obstacles, but hanging onto the saddle and praying to the Manda only took you so far. Without the proper form, it could end badly. But there was little he could do, even out of concern for his fellow ad's life and limb.

From his position on the horse, leaned over the neck, knees locked, body moving with the rocking motions of the gallop, he slid a hand into the horses mane and along the neck, feeling the heat of the creature carrying him. As the forest loomed closer, his hand slid back to the reins as he prepared for the next leg of the journey.

[Dominick Fett]

The race started slowly for Dominick. It wasn't really a bad thing, taking one's time, but he had wanted to get off to a quick start. As it was now, he would surge forward, get blocked by the aliit'alor, and then fade back before trying again. He gritted his teeth and consigned himself and his horse to the back of the pack for the time being. This was a long race, and resting his horse wouldn't hurt in the long run.

As Dom was keeping an eye on the riders ahead of him, he noticed a disturbance towards the front of the pack. If memory served, they were coming up on an aqueduct that would more than likely serve as an obstacle for the racers. And if that disturbance up ahead was anything of note, he and John were probably getting close to it. He leaned forward and urged his horse to go just a bit faster, knowing that a jump would require some extra speed.

"Come on, come on...we can do this."

As they flew by the other competitors, it was clear that some horses had deigned to not make the leap with a person on their back. It seemed that a couple of competitors had been unhorsed. Dominick could only hope that none of them had been seriously injured. He had a job to do, though, and couldn't afford to slow down and check on the fallen riders. They were Mandalorians. They would be fine.

As he readied himself for the leap, he noticed his good friend Cor, stopped near the aqueduct. It seemed that his horse had been among the ones who were unwilling to make the jump. He offered Cor a small nod and then urged his steed to leap. The pair of them cleared the obstacle without incident.

It seemed that his horse came out of the jump in a little better shape than the head of Clan Ischoron's. So, taking advantage of the temporary boon, Dominick surged ahead of the alitt'alor and charged up behind the leader. He didn't recognize her, but she didn't look like she knew much about what she was doing. He could see the forest of Clan Rahl looming ahead. Hopefully he could take advantage of her inexperience once they entered the cover of the trees.