NASJAR RP and Results Thread

[NASJAR]

Welcome to the competition!

Format:
As discussed in the signup thread, scorination will be done the same as in NSSCRA (see the signup OP for the deets). As to the eliminations, they will be handled as followed:

No one will be eliminated from the qualifier, which will take place in The Mendicant's Ravine. This race is simply to _{pad out the season} determine what your starting skill for the series proper will be.

In the first race, Mianach, one quarter of the field will be eliminated. Assuming there are any by the cutoff of the qualifier, this will eliminate the field fillers, as well as one of the competition pilots. The top two spots are guaranteed to make it to the third race.

In the second race, Jebsheim, the bottom two spots will be eliminated. The top two spots are guaranteed to make it to the fourth race, as are the top two spots on the leaderboard (1st and 2nd in this race not included).

In the third race, Seabhcoir, the bottom spot will be knocked out. The remaining twelve are safe from elimination from the series, but only the top spot on the leaderboard and the first place spot are guaranteed spots in the Chase races.

In the fourth race, A Race Against Winter, there will be no eliminations from the series proper, but only the top spot on the leaderboard not already guaranteed a place in the Chase and the winner of the race (or the next highest placing who isn't already in the Chase) will be added to the Chase.

The same thing goes for the fifth race, The Mendicant's Ravine. This should give us a pool of six racers eligible to take it all in a series of three races in which the bottom two spots are knocked out. The races will take place in three of the nations of the final six, unless there are less than three nations represented, in which case the first race will be chosen at random.

The Leaderboard:
During each race, points will be assigned based on placement, with First Place earning 20 points, and each spot below earning one point less than the one above. This, in addition to the RP and History bonuses, will determine skill.

Race Schedule:
I am going to do my best to stick to this schedule, but my life can get a bit... hectic... at times, so please bear with me. As an apology, cutoff times are flexible. The cutoff won't happen until I've posted it. All times are in Arizona.

Qualifier:
Saturday, 8/25/18, @ 1800

Race One:
Wednesday, 8/29/18, @1800

Race Two:
Saturday, 9/01/18, @1800

Race Three:
Wednesday, 9/05/18, @1800

Race Four:
Saturday, 9/08/18, @1800

Race Five:
Wednesday, 09/19/18, @1800

Chase Quarter:
Wednesday, 09/26/18, @1800

Chase Semi:
Saturday, 09/29/18, @1800

Chase Final:
Wednesday, 10/03/18, @1800

For those wondering why the Finals are a week after the SemifinalsChase Quarter is a week from the 19th, my birthday iswas on the 13th, but, for reasons I'm not going to share here, it might notwon't be celebrated until the 22nd this year, so I'm planning as if that is the case.

Final Roster
EDIT: Roster is now finalised!


Jebslund:
00: Flora "Sternenjäger" Kerman
08: Henry "Die Achte" Kerman
13: Edmund "Derpol" Kerman

Free Lands:
07: Erblin Piteog
14: Marla Eitleoir
41: Raidri Leathchúpla
42: Amy Ollmhór

Frozen Forest:
09: Dakov Weimar
10: Armati Toscano
11: Arnbjorn Hjolfson
12: April Baustein

Northwest Kalactin:
54: James McNeil
98: Nathan Maconson

Lisander:
02: Sadne Marès
03: Salo Marès

Shayla:
16: Madison Jones

Field Filler:
23: Yuji Naka
49: Naoto Ohshima
72: Hirokazu Yasuhara
99: Rieko Kodama

Without further ado, let the RPing begin!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ladies and Gestlemen, START YOUR ENGINES!

[Jebslund]

Flora Kerman
Der Bettelmönchsschlucht was always a mixed bag for Flora. On the one hand, the course itself was one of her favorites in Jebslund, offering the kind of edge-of-your-seat rush few other (legal) courses did, and that was without factoring in her... interesting... racing style. The canyon and ravine were true tests of piloting skill, and those who came out of them without so much as scratched paint were considered the flying elite.

On the other hand, no one in Dürrdürrwüste would allow Sternenjäger to forget the ONE TIME she'd shortened her precious Samt Traum's wing on a canyon wall, and, though the Vampire's wing had long since been repaired, the abundance of jokes about widening the canyon and adding bumpers to her wings had her in an unusually foul mood as she walked around the civilian area of the fortress-city, making note of the various stalls selling various goods from around the world. Flora had already had to send a package of purchases to her home, ranging from Brazilistani diamond earrings (no longer mined by slave labor) to Middle Eastern silks to the fruit of native cacti.

As she walked, Flora absentmindedly snacked on a roasted rat that had been marinated in beer at 2C for 24 hours prior to roasting, washing it down with occasional sips of a cactus-fruit soda that had a tart taste somewhere between a strawberry and a cherry, with hints of lime, a local specialty that had entire groups of Jebslunden visiting Dürrdürrwüste just to buy them by the crate. The thing that lightened her mood, however, was that Selkie pilot she'd gotten a glimpse of. Jebslunden women as a general rule weren't usually very well-endowed. Even a C-cup was usually considered 'stacked' by Jebslunden standards. But that Selkie woman... Amy, was it? An actor of note in her home country, Flora was given to understand. Those fuel tanks had definitely caught her eye, and the rest was so adorable that Flora's Vampire wouldn't be the only part of her racing today (a pilot's plane, after all, was her soul).

Around Flora, aside from the stalls, there were building made of a substance that, while looking like the traditional adobe the region's Jebslunden often used in construction, was rated to withstand nuclear strikes well into the megatons. All around were bars and stores and houses and businesses and cafes and other such places one would expect in a city, haphazardly arranged in such a way as to make taking the city from the ground as difficult as possible, with only a relative handful of paths available for tanks to enter or leave, and plenty of potential "kill alleys" for the defenders to use to thin out an invading army, with the city planning done so as to funnel the enemy directly into them. Even from the civilian sector, one could see many of the emplacements on the city's walls, designed to repel nearly any invasion, and better than 9 out of every 10 buildings had some sort of weapon system mounted to its roof and/or walls, usually civilian-owned, and it was rare indeed to see a Jebslunder over 15, aside from Flora, without *some* form of armament either holstered at their side or slung across their back, a fact which seemed at odds with the genial, friendly attitude of the bearers, quick to make jokes or to offer to buy someone a drink or a snack, or to help a lost foreigner find a particular point of interest, either in the city specifically or the region in general. While there were styles from nearly every region of Jebslund represented in Dürrdürrwüste, the most common far and away was the desert garb of the local Jebslunden, sand-colored robes which were excellent for staying cool in a desert region, patterned in such a way that the wearers were nearly invisible with the facemask on from more than a few meters away in the desert wilds.

Edmund and Henry
The bar known as the Tür des Asketen was, even when there were no races, always a popular bar. It was popular with locals for having the best selection of snacks and beer in the city, and frequently being the bar of choice for military groups. It was popular with tourists for being one of the few bars in the city that both was drug-free and required weapons to be checked at the door (and stored in one of the most secure armories in the city, barring the military sectors). It was popular with the military for its "leave the inter-service/inter-unit rivalries with the weapons" policy and its unwavering neutrality between the rival services and units.

One such group, the 5th Marineeskortegruppe, was buying drinks and snacks for half the bar as they hosted an all-day party celebrating the entry of two of their own into the NASJAR series. Derpol and Die Achte sat in a booth across from each other, both in their old 1950's naval uniforms (Die Achte's updated to reflect his current rank), orange-striped flight suits with collars and boots reminiscent of diving suits of the era, with caps emblazoned with the name Hornissennest and the ship's 1952 insignia, a hornet with aircraft wings and jets, and their unit patches on the right shoulder. All around them were similarly dressed men and women, some listening intently to the two men swapping stories, others chatting between themselves, and a few of the old fighter group had a doubles pool game going in a nearby part of the bar, with civilians and servicekerbals alike betting on the outcome and encouragements and advice to the players. At every table were multiple plates of various bar foods of the sorts a German would have found to be very familiar.

[The Selkie]

Silver Bay Herald, Internet Edition, published August 23rd, 2018.

Starting the engines

The Final preparations for the Qualifier of the NASJAR 1 Series are getting underway with the racers arriving at The Mendicant's Ravine.

---

Mendicant's Ravine - With the roaring of jet engines, the final preparations for the qualifiers of the NASJAR 1 Series of races are getting underway. Along for the ride are four skilled and experienced air racers from the Free Lands, which will hold two races themselves, Mianach on the 29th of August and Seabhcóir on the 5th of Septembre. The qualifiers for the races, which will eliminate a sizeable portion of the field, are held in the Dürrdürrwüste at the Mendicant's Ravine.
Experts, calling this course a "dangerous, yet very fun experience", agree, that it will be a challenge for the four Selkie, who are used to races like these due to the Seabhcóir Aerodrome Racefield, which demands tight and quick manoeuvres from the pilots as well (albeit not in a tight ravine).
Flying the de Havilland Vampire, the technical aspects are all the same for all of the roundabout two dozen pilots, as the final roster has yet to be declared.
Undeterred by the heat of the Dürrdürrwüste and the well-armed nature of their host city, the ground crews and pilots spend their last hours before the start of the show in preparation, the aircraft used under the last checks by the respective pilot's ground crew.
Asked for a quick comment, Marla Eitleoir of the Tribe of Fingal, Number 14, remarked, that she looked forward to the race and the competition with her fellow pilots, especially to the competition with the ones from the hosts, Jebslund. When asked for details as to why, she retold, that her Grandfather, Commander Finnegan Cailpís of the Tribe of Monaghan, was one of the first pilots flying the Fabhcun, the first jet fighter in service of the SDF, amongst others during an excercise of the SDF-Navy against a carrier group from Jebslund around the carrier Hornissennest.
On Saturday, the 25th of August, the Qualifiers will be held, several radio stations will attach themselves to the live broadcast by Radio Cornwall 3.
KIW, Peata.

---

Fortress-City, one of the civilian districts.
It was unusual to see a Selkie being armed openly, but here she was: Amy Ollmhór of the Tribe of Dundalk, vintage 1992, brown-golden eyes and very, very long white hair usually worn in a braid, very well endowed even by Selkie-Standards (to the point of her fellow pilots joking, that she carried her additional fueltanks around), carried a dagger, by the length more akin to a short sword, very openly on her hip, the softly curved blade doing little to both calm her down and to dissiduate the looks she received.
It was apparently local fashion to carry firearms around, it was a fortress city built as a fortress, after all (even she could see that), and apparently the local average in bust sizes was somewhere below C... she was quite far above C. Her fellow Selkie Marla Eitleoir of the Tribe of Fingal could wear C, but preferred one size smaller. Their transport pilot, Filicia Maor of the Tribe of Wicklow, felt comfortable with Size C.
But that was, to Ollmhór at least, irrelevant. She was a model and actress, as well as trained IT-specialist, she was used to being looked at. She strolled around one of the markets, drinking one of the local Cactus Fruit Sodas and looking at the offered wares with great interest.
She would leave the roasted rats alone, though. No need to carry more weight around then the fuel tanks, after all.
That aside, she was quite fascinated by the silk, Middle Eastern in origin, apparently, and a lot cheaper then the silks usually found in the Free Lands. She knew a seamster, who would love to get his hands on that material, so she had bought a few lengths of the cloth already, in different colours, having loaded it onto Maor's plane.
A pilot's plane was his or her soul and the honourably discharged Captain of the SDF-Army (who opened an air-freight and bushhopper business) understood that very well - as did Amy and the others, who treated her and her Guairdeall with utmost respect. Especially Raidri, who was raised on airfields, did.
But, back in the present, Amy thought, that she saw a familiar face, a fellow racer, one of the Jebslunden ones, in the crowd, but that might have been a trick of her eyes. She smiled and turned to next stall selling diamond earrings...

The Mendicant's Ravine.
"Well, they don't give us much margin of error here, do they?", Marla asked the two young men at her side as she peered down into the canyon. The other two were her fellow pilots from the Free Lands in this contest, Raidri Leathchúpla of the Tribe of Navan and Erblin Piteog of the Tribe of Wicklow, as well as the reporter from the Silver Bay Herald, Kiah Irisleabhar of the Tribe of Waterford.
Marla was blonde, blue eyed, endowed a bit above local average and well aware of her good looks, but also well aware of her own fragility... especially when flying a jet fighter in a ravine.
Radri was a young man with dark-grey hair, brown-red eyes, a sharply cut face and usually an arrogant smirk - a man born for flying and obsessed with air racing, but not obsessed with the family business, Leathchupla Airlines. He was arrogant, that was for sure, but he knew, who he respected: Pilots, mechanics, and their machines. His smirk was not on his face, though, as he followed Marla's line of thought.
On the other hand, Erblin was a pretty young man, homosexual and already taken (his mechanic Sirlam), his short, white hair and piercing blue eyes more often twinkling with amusement then not. An aviator by heart, much like his father (who was actually an aviator of the SDF-Navy), and very good at air races, he was one of the easiest men in their, admittedly small, circle to get along with.
Air racing in general was not new to the Selkie, but it was a craze right about now, which had spurred those three and Amy (another one, who one could get along with easily) to sign up for NASJAR 1.
And that was, why they were peering down the Ravine.
It was a true test of the piloting skill of the racers, adrenaline pumping action in every bent and turn, with the added bonus of there being a very good possibility to have a run-in with Cailb and to spent the rest of Time in the Mag Mell. Then again, even the wide fields of the Seabhcóir Aerodrome offered that, although the chances were lower.
"Indeed.", Raidri remarked grimly.
They had met by coincidence to have a look at the course before the big qualifiers, not having flown it yet - but indeed heard of it. And of one of their fellow competitors having left a piece of her plane on the canyon wall...
...they would not crack jokes about it and neither would Amy.
Haven't they all left something somewhere over the years?
But that aside, the woman in the black leather jacket stepped back from the edge.
"This one's going to be fun...", she said, then sighed. She noted how silent Erblin was as he looked down the different sections. "Let's get going."
Kiah made photographs... there was a reason, why she had been one of Bicíní's Photographers this year.
"Can't wait to fly the Mianach.", Radri remarked with a grin as they hiked along.

[The Frozen Forest]

"We would like to humbly congratulate you on your opportunity to represent our country in NASJAR, Dakov. Me and my family will be following your progress for the entirety of the competition. Naturally we cannot show any favortism though know that we..." The letter trailed on with that same sort of regal, diplomatic tune. He was too far off the Royal Family Tree to know how to respond properly. In fact he was technically not even apart of the Royal Family, despite being descended from it by his mother. It was unfortunate but his mother had agreed to write a letter back in his stead, with the excuse that he was busy preparing for the competition. Not entirely honorable, but he was hoping to bring back enough honor to make up for that disservice many times over.

Dakov Weimar had come to Jebslund to Race, and that was something he intended to do well. He didn't do things to lose and he sure as hell had no intention of letting those around him win. He was driven, unaffected by the cute girls and exotic culture that surrounded him. It was nothing, it was unimportant. What was important was that he win and bring pride back to his family, to his country. Honor and Pride, they were odd concepts to persue. They had no material value, no one had ever gotten wealthy with pride. His was a difficult mind to understand, evidently anyone could see that it was important to him. There was nothing more important to him.

Nearby the hotel that Dakov was staying at was another man registered for NASJAR, also from The Frozen Forest. Armati Toscano was a bit older, yet in a twisting of traditional roles, he was filled with far more dreams and aspirations than his younger counterpart, Dakov. Armati wasn't out for the victory specifically, he was glad that he could attend and compete, and if he came out victorious in the end then all the better. He didn't need to consider what losing would feel like, deep down he understood it would hurt but he would be able to bear it, no doubt. He was easygoing and besides, anything he did would be better than if he had decided not to compete. As the son of a pair of circus freaks, flying was far from out of the water.

Armati checked into the Hotel as his car pulled alongside the lobby entrance. Bright eyed and smiling, he easily charmed the clerk at the lobby counter. Not letting it play for too long he dropped the charade and ended the flirtatious conversation warmly before making his way up to his room. There he discovered that it truly was quaint, just as the brochure had said. "Well, i might as well make the best of it." He mumbled as he set down his clothes and gear. His jet would have been brought over by The Frozen Forestrian Government, he didn't need to worry about that until the race started. From what he understood, this wouldn't bee too intense though there would be a number of pilots outed when it was all over.

"Yes nana, i remembered to bring my camera. Don't worry i brought my comb-nana-nana calm down its OK! Really! I have everything, i'll make sure i take pictures while i'm here. Yes. Yes. I love you too, i'll see you when i get back." The blond haired Frozen Forestrian, Arnbjorn Hjolfson, hung up his cellphone and slipped the device into his pocket. Despite being 22 years old, he was a new pilot and had only been racing for little over a year. In that regard he had more experience with Jets than Dakov Weimar did, though this was his first international competition. It was a big deal and his family had made sure to pester him about taking an overly-abundant amount of photos and to buy a equally large amount of mementos. He would go bankrupt if he listened to them, he cared all the same. He wasn't in Jebslund to race for them, he was there to race for his mentor.

Arnbjorn had been trained by a friend, an old but extremely talented pilot back in his day. Henry McClark was long-since deceased but his memory would live on. The name of Arnbjorns jet happened to be The McClark, in honor of his fallen hero. If he could win NASJAR, it would mean that the McClark name would be remembered. It was the greatest way he knew how to honor him, someone much greater and wiser than he was. Surely his spirit was watching over Arnbjorn to see if he would remember all that he had taught him. He couldn't bear to let him down again, he had to win NASJAR. It was his destiny, his prerogative. He exited the cab and came upon a small tavern. One drink before the races were due to start.

The last contestant from The Frozen Forest to arrive was also the oldest and most experienced of the bunch. 46 Year old April Baustein had loved planes since she was a little girl, that love had never faded. She wasn't a beauty to most, in fact some may call her physical appearance ugly. What made up for that, she felt, was her boundless energy and intuition. She was arguably one of the best pilots in The Frozen Forest, at least when it came to older Jets like the Vampire. Naturally her decision to join as the final contestant for The Frozen Forest in NASJAR had come as a surprise, but it wasn't frowned upon or bad. She had the support of many of the nations older people, she represented an ideal that had been tarnished in the years prior. When one grew old, they couldn't do the things they once did. This was false and she aimed to prove it, to her country, to her kids and to the entire world.

Her honorable crusade would make her some enemies, but as long as she wasn't eliminated in the first race, she figured she had a real fighting chance. She could win this, there were nothing saying she couldn't, she would prove her critics wrong and look amazing while doing it. She chuckled at the thought as she exited the car and made her way towards the hangar where her baby was sitting. Her baby happened to be The Skybear, one of her older but more reliable Vampires. She couldn't think of taking any other machine with her, it had almost as much character as she did. Besides, it was her kids favorite. She admired the metal covering as she began to work to clean the huge metal beast.

[Lisander]

Ｉ

They were almost one. They would look the same if the woman did not have breasts and the evidently longer ponytail. They weren't identical twins at birth, since identical twins are from the same biologic sex, but they were created to be perfectly equal. A personal "project of perfectionism" by Serge and Léa Marès. The symmetry was at the same time, lovely and creepy. The biologic details were enough to differentiate them at the close. But looking from a distance, under a hoodie and a military cap, one couldn't differentiate Salo from Sadne, or Sadne from Salo.

Born from the same mother, at the same day, living and raising as equals, they turned inseparable. The adolescence came, and instead of separating, they came very closer. Parents concerned about problems with ince... that word should not be said. They were both quite clever, they knew what was to and wasn't to happen. When confronted with the question, usual to teenagers, they usually responded.

"We are like one. I could not be turned on by her. I know all the sordid details of menstruation and these things. We do assume our first kiss was between us, but we're kids, there was no malice. Also, we don't want children with genetic defects." or "This is a wrong practice. We share our lives perfectly because we're born and raised without gender barrier and any limitation, so he is practically like me, and I couldn't live without my brother. Not as a man, but as a part of me, or an extra me."

Their career? Born and raised by military officers, it wasn't more than clear. Both decided to join the team of pilots in the Most Noble Aerial Armada of the Principality.

[Jebslund]

Apologies for the lateness, buuuuut...


It's cutoff time, folks! Scores are up now! Apologies for the times being in seconds. Excel was being rather vexingly insistent on trying to make the times into time of day, rather than lap time, so it took a while to get it to work properly, and then the actual tabling and stuff took longer than anticipated. If anyone knows how to get the tables to no have those huge gaps between the text and the tables, I'd be ever so grateful. Fix'd! Thanks, Selks!



All times in seconds. I plan on converting to minutes and seconds some time tomorrow. Aaand done!

Pilot	Part 1	Part 2	Part 3	Part 4	Part 5	Avg
00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	5:31.441	5:33.345	5:33.343	5:31.816	5:34.398	5:32.869
02 Sadne Marès (Lisander)	5:31.383	5:33.602	5:38.649	5:31.737	5:38.399	5:34.754
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	5:31.128	5:31.832	5:34.274	5:32.112	5:34.420	5:32.753
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	5:36.191	5:33.433	5:32.117	5:35.269	5:36.209	5:34.644
08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	5:37.870	5:31.494	5:30.621	5:30.818	5:31.050	5:32.371
09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	5:37.197	5:31.053	5:33.838	5:36.266	5:40.747	5:35.820
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest)	5:37.822	5:32.026	5:32.012	5:34.680	5:32.465	5:33.801
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	5:32.327	5:31.363	5:31.832	5:30.848	5:32.677	5:31.809
12 April Baustein (Frozen Forest)	5:34.606	5:32.330	5:35.527	5:33.424	5:37.078	5:34.593
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund) [Winner]	5:31.277	5:31.301	5:32.561	5:30.634	5:30.758	5:31.306
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	5:35.402	5:31.231	5:43.443	5:32.428	5:33.428	5:35.186
16 Madison Jones (Shayla)	5:31.237	5:31.511	5:32.404	5:32.675	5:36.946	5:32.955
23 Yuji Naka (Field Filler)	5:42.437	5:41.374	5:46.068	5:45.087	5:41.494	5:43.292
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands) [3rd place]	5:31.920	5:30.838	5:32.923	5:31.233	5:31.915	5:31.766
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands) [2nd place]	5:33.178	5:31.995	5:30.953	5:31.463	5:30.922	5:31.702
49 Naoto Ohshima (Field Filler)	5:41.628	5:45.063	5:45.270	5:42.637	5:42.636	5:43.447
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	5:37.427	5:36.943	5:34.741	5:33.653	5:35.780	5:35.709
72 Hirokazu Yasuhara (Field Filler)	5:44.944	5:42.657	5:42.540	5:42.351	5:43.876	5:43.274
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	5:31.908	5:30.894	5:30.915	5:36.607	5:34.222	5:32.909
99 Rieko Kodama (Field Filler)	5:43.367	5:41.304	5:44.182	5:41.467	5:42.915	5:42.647

Standings:
Pilot	Points
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund)	20
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands)	19
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands)	18
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	17
08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	16
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	15
00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	14
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	13
16 Madison Jones (Shayla)	12
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest)	11
12 April Baustein (Frozen Forest)	10
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	9
02 Sadne Marès (Lisander)	8
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	7
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	6
09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	5
99 Rieko Kodama (Field Filler)	4
72 Hirokazu Yasuhara (Field Filler)	3
23 Yuji Naka (Field Filler)	2
49 Naoto Ohshima (Field Filler)	1

[The Selkie]

Apologies for the lateness, buuuuut...


It's cutoff time, folks! Scores are up now! Apologies for the times being in seconds. Excel was being rather vexingly insistent on trying to make the times into time of day, rather than lap time, so it took a while to get it to work properly, and then the actual tabling and stuff took longer than anticipated. If anyone knows how to get the tables to no have those huge gaps between the text and the tables, I'd be ever so grateful. Fix'd! Thanks, Selks!



All times in seconds. I plan on converting to minutes and seconds some time tomorrow. Aaand done!

Pilot	Part 1	Part 2	Part 3	Part 4	Part 5	Avg
00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	5:31.441	5:33.345	5:33.343	5:31.816	5:34.398	5:32.869
02 Sadne Marès (Lisander)	5:31.383	5:33.602	5:38.649	5:31.737	5:38.399	5:34.754
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	5:31.128	5:31.832	5:34.274	5:32.112	5:34.420	5:32.753
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	5:36.191	5:33.433	5:32.117	5:35.269	5:36.209	5:34.644
08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	5:37.870	5:31.494	5:30.621	5:30.818	5:31.050	5:32.371
09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	5:37.197	5:31.053	5:33.838	5:36.266	5:40.747	5:35.820
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest)	5:37.822	5:32.026	5:32.012	5:34.680	5:32.465	5:33.801
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	5:32.327	5:31.363	5:31.832	5:30.848	5:32.677	5:31.809
12 April Baustein (Frozen Forest)	5:34.606	5:32.330	5:35.527	5:33.424	5:37.078	5:34.593
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund) [Winner]	5:31.277	5:31.301	5:32.561	5:30.634	5:30.758	5:31.306
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	5:35.402	5:31.231	5:43.443	5:32.428	5:33.428	5:35.186
16 Madison Jones (Shayla)	5:31.237	5:31.511	5:32.404	5:32.675	5:36.946	5:32.955
23 Yuji Naka (Field Filler)	5:42.437	5:41.374	5:46.068	5:45.087	5:41.494	5:43.292
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands) [3rd place]	5:31.920	5:30.838	5:32.923	5:31.233	5:31.915	5:31.766
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands) [2nd place]	5:33.178	5:31.995	5:30.953	5:31.463	5:30.922	5:31.702
49 Naoto Ohshima (Field Filler)	5:41.628	5:45.063	5:45.270	5:42.637	5:42.636	5:43.447
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	5:37.427	5:36.943	5:34.741	5:33.653	5:35.780	5:35.709
72 Hirokazu Yasuhara (Field Filler)	5:44.944	5:42.657	5:42.540	5:42.351	5:43.876	5:43.274
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	5:31.908	5:30.894	5:30.915	5:36.607	5:34.222	5:32.909
99 Rieko Kodama (Field Filler)	5:43.367	5:41.304	5:44.182	5:41.467	5:42.915	5:42.647

Standings:
Pilot	Points
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund)	20
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands)	19
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands)	18
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	17
08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	16
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	15
00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	14
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	13
16 Madison Jones (Shayla)	12
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest)	11
12 April Baustein (Frozen Forest)	10
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	9
02 Sadne Marès (Lisander)	8
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	7
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	6
09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	5
99 Rieko Kodama (Field Filler)	4
72 Hirokazu Yasuhara (Field Filler)	3
23 Yuji Naka (Field Filler)	2
49 Naoto Ohshima (Field Filler)	1

Silver Bay Herald, Internet Edition, published August 26th, 2018.

Ollmhór second, Leathchúpla third at NASJAR-1 Qualifiers!

After a tight and close race, Kerman wins before Ollmhór and Leathchúpla, Piteog and Eitleoir trail behind.

---

Mendicant's Ravine - In the Dürrdürrwüste, the Qualifiers for the NASJAR-1 Series of Jet Air Races went down with a surprise for trained Selkie-Eyes: Eitleoir, seen as one of our favourites, only came in 14th after all five laps, with an average of 5:35.186.
Derpol Kerman, from Jebslund, won with a sublime performance averaging in at 5:31.306, barely four tenths of a second before Amy Ollmhór, who's average was 5:31.702, thus reaching second place before fellow Selkie Raidri Leathchúpla with an average of 5:31.766. Placed 12th was Erblin Piteog with an average of 5:34.644.
When asked for a comment, Eitleoir was not available while Piteog commented, that it was simply not his day, his best lap bringing him to the finish four seconds sooner then his slowest, 5:32.117 to 5:36.209, while his competitors gave a much more stable performance. He then promised a much better showing at the Mianach on the 29th.
Ollmhór meanwhile commented via Piffle: "I must admit, that I did not expect to end up second after my first round, 5:33.178, but my third pulled me right back into the competition." She later went on to congratulate Kerman and to thank her fellow competitors.
The fastest lap, 5:30.621, was flown by Die Achter Kerman from Jebslund, using home advantage, while the fastest Selkie-Lap, 5:30.838, was flown by Raidri Leathchúpla of the Tribe of Navan.
KIW, Peata.

---

Four-Fucking-Teenth.
An utter shame, Marla thought, trying to drink her sorrows away by her lonesome in her hotel room, the bottle half-empty already. Some strong local stuff with a name she couldn't pronounce, she was quite sure, that she, a whiskey drinker, would feel it tomorrow morning.
She had been one of the favourites and now... 14th!
That danged third lap... 5:43.443. Her best had been 5:31.231.
She lost twelve seconds, and any chance of getting a good position, at that one, blasted curve. She had little left on, trying to be brutally self-critical usually worked better for her when drunk and in panties, but she was sure, that she would feel that, tomorrow, too.
Fuel Tank Girl, Ollmhór, meanwhile, would be celebrated back home.
Her mobile phone rang, she looked at the display and her heart sank. A short press of a button and then... "Hi, Grandpa...", she spoke in Selkie.
"Hey, Marla.", the kind, old voice of her grandfather, of Commander Finnegan Cailpís of the Tribe of Monaghan (of course retired), came to her. "You drunk yet?"
"No, not completely.", she groaned back, almost slurred. "Jebslund doesn't bring any luck to our family, does it?"
"Apparently.", the old man said with a laugh. "But we both survived. Your little stunt in that bent almost robbed me ten years!"
"Did it?"
"You nearly crashed, Marla!"
"...yeah.", she said and rested her head on her lower arms. "And I screwed up. Fourteenth... you must me disappointed, Grandpa."
She took of her drink, or rather her bottle, waiting for the inevitable reply, that she was a shame to the good name and dishonoured him and that it would have been better, if she had continued right into the cliffside and...
"No.", came the kind old voice, "No, absolutely not. I'm not thrilled, sure, but... I rather have my Granddaughter in my arms then not. And in a few days, at the Mianach, I will. We're actually departing tonight, an old friend arranged for VIP-seats."
Marla grinned, drunk at that, but remained silent, especially as she heard a commotion on her grandfather's end.
Then: "Best regard from your mother. She's packing underwear of a good size for you, you wore the wrong cup size again and so on, you know her."
"Yeah.", Marla replied, her grin widening a bit. Wrong bra sizes... she was comfortable with B, why had her mother to make such a fuzz about her getting C? She felt ridiculous that way and the entire thing was in her way when she was in a cockpit!
Silence came after that.
Seconds turned into minutes.
"Gramps? Can you tell me a story?", she asked, putting him on speaker and the phone on her table.
"Yes, sure.", the old man, who gave her the passion for flying, replied, pausing for a moment, then beginning: "It was a long, long time ago, that I was part of War Games against Jebslund..."
And from there, Marla listened, soon drifting in and out of sleep after that horrible day...

---

Erblin's mechanic and boyfriend Sirlam was a cute guy with his glasses and a bit of a mousy appearance.
Amy was not interested in that as he was playing for the other team, in a stable relationship and not her type anyway. He was working on his boyfriend and his boyfriend's Vampire, the young men sitting on one of the wings, one working on the plane and listening, the other working on himself and speaking.
Erblin was not a favourite, for no one, but he had gone into it with high hopes for himself and his results. They were crushed, so far. Sure 12th was not bad, but he had hoped for more...
Amy could understand it.
Three glasses in one hand and a bottle of Selkie-Whiskey in the other, she wanted to approach the two, but something kept her. She would be intruding into something deeply personal and precious and...
...a hand tapped her onto the shoulder.
Surprised, she turned around, seeing Raidri, who motioned her to follow. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded and went along in silence.
It stretched. She would freely admit, that she was happy: Second place, that was not bad!
Not bad at all!
Raidri didn't look too happy.
"Admit it, you just want a bit whiskey to celebrate the performance!", she suddenly started the conversation before she knew, that she had the thought.
He didn't look over his shoulder as they walked over the airfield in the cold desert night. "We have something to celebrate?"
"Yes, we came in as second and third. I think, that we can celebrate that!", Amy replied, still walking along.
Silence.
"One can, yes.", Raidri admitted, "But one shouldn't. Second and third is not winning. I know, that my sisters will see it differently and that they will hug me regardless and tell me, how good I was, but..."
"...but you want to win."
"Yes.", Raidri said, looking into the hangar with his plane, which was left there alone. The Mechanics were finished and I was quite sure, that Sirlam was only working on the plane to have an excuse to sit there with Erblin and to talk and to listen. Raidri led the two in, motioned for Amy to place her utensils on the wing, got a few pieces of Scipeáil out and put them next to the whiskey. "Winning is why we are here... Kerman should get warm clothes, for we won't loose the Mianach!"
Amy opened the bottle and poured both. "Oh, no we won't!", she replied with a grin.
The next morning, it was departure time for the pilots and planes to the Free Lands and to the tropical Oileánra-Archipelago, where they were already expected...

---

Dumhach General Newspaper, Internet Edition, published August 26th, 2018.

Fighter Jets return to the Gaineamh Aerodrome

The first non-qualifier race of the NASJAR-1 Series nears and the Aerodrome and the town prepare in their very own style.

---

Gaineamh, Oileánra-Archipelago - The last part of the air-race's preparations was completed yesterday afternoon: With the cruise liner Colm of Rón Cruise Lines inching into the harbour area, the last piece in the strategy for the accomodations for visitors of the first NASJAR-1 Race in the Free Lands is in place.
With the Mianach Air Racing Course, one of the most esteemed air race courses in the Free Lands was chosen: Built in 1936 and closed down in 1956, the Gaineamh Aerodrome was built as an SDF Air Base, playing a pivotal role in 1983's Second Vellenge War. Inbetween, from 1966 to 1968, it was renovated, with the first Mianach Air Race being held there in 1970, soon turning to a favourite starting point for air-tours around the Archipelago.
The tracks best time, 7:01:789 on the Fabhcun, was flown in 1979 by Kieran Gasta of the Tribe of Monaghan.
Over the picturesque tropical archipelago, the contestants will be forced to fly a relatively short course, which's difficulty stems not from having to fly fast, but from flying fast while performing daring aerobatics between the pylons, which are held by small vessels and buoys.
The course itself does not come close to the Town of Gaineamh itself, one of the conditions upon establishment, but it does round The Rock, a large, flat rock at the upper end of the race course, where tickets were already sold out. Private boats need a license to come close to the course, the Water Police announced stopping any boat without, if necessary by force.
Meanwhile, the Town of Gaineamh is preparing with the usual calm for the thousands of spectators expected for the event, a public viewing area being set up on the Market Place. The small town with 1,975 inhabitants right inside of a tropical paradise has 4,000 beds for hotel guests at the ready (not counting in the Colm). Pubs, inns and restaurants up to Dumhach are preparing their storages and fishermen are hauling in more fish for the meals. Visitors have to be prepared for tropical summer and the sun beating down upon them, as the forecasts speak of a sunny day with temperatures peaking at 35 degrees Celsius in the ancestral lands of Wexfords and Navans.
FDW, Gleoite.

[The Frozen Forest]

Dakov Weimar was more than disappointed with the results of the first race. The Flying Fox, his jet, the jet he had been using for months, hadn't been able to handle such an easy course. It was turning wildly without his control, acceleration and deceleration refused to act properly and worst of all his Engine had refused to even start when the race began. it was a blunder and a loss for him, one he felt could only be fixed if he fixed it himself. He had been negligent with the care of The Flying Fox, entrusting it to his mechanics who didn't understand its significance, he had to be the one to fix it. When the race results came in, they were unsurprising despite being overly disappointing, his team had immediately gotten new parts when the situation with his Jet was realized. The Engine was replaced and the steering was corrected.

After a day of working on the flying machine he was tired and ready to go to sleep in his bed. Where he ended up was less than ideal, wandering around the town in search of something entertaining to do. Eventually he stumbled into one of the bars, where he proceeded to drink away until morning. It was less than honorable, it was fortunate that no one found him and he was able to wander home on his own when his eyes finally fluttered open. It was the first time he had ever drunk, so it was an unusual event. Of course his team didn't expect it, but at least no one had seen him.

Armati Toscano was in a much better mood than his compatriot. His average following the race totaled out to be 5:33.801, which mean he was in the upper half and was safe from being disqualified. Back home his family would be cheering him on, they would be proud of him even though they had originally been against him leaving. What did they know, he was a grown man. He had done well for his first set race, and it had gone well. He couldn't complain with the results, it was no first place but it also wasn't last or even closer to the bottom than the top. He could improve during the next race, if he were willing to take the risk.

"You did great, don't worry about it." His cousin wandered in, her smile always seemed to light up any room she walked into. She had come along to give him morale support, out of all his family she was easily the best, she had supported him from the very beginning and he was grateful for that. He looked down at the tray she was holding as she entered the living room, they were fluffy chocolate and vanilla flavored cat cupcakes. She was always good at making sweets like those. She set the tray down and the two quickly began to eat away the sugary treats. It was a good first day.

April Baunstein hadn't done too bad, but her score was anything but good. 5:34.593 as an average meant that she was actually in the lower half of the racers, which meant that she would be in danger of disqualification if she didn't up her game. Naturally she had gotten a call from her kids and her husband, both of which had comforted her and told her that she had done alright for her first race, and that sort of jazz. She felt it was untrue, she had years of training and that was the best she could do? She needed to practice but there was no time for things like that during NASJAR. She would have to make do and hope for a good run during the next race. Hopefully she could improve her odds.

Arnbjorn wasn't hurting after getting his results back. 5:31.809 as an average put him in fourth place. Not only was he safe for the moment from being disqualified, but he was ahead and had a strong chance of pulling off a win. His family called to congratulate him for a successful run. He couldn't ask for more, they were supportive and helpful, all of them. His family understood what the race meant to him, and for the time being The McClark had preformed marvelously. He still needed to win, but it was a step in the right direction.

That night he looked over the three people above him in the standings. The first was a grey-haired boy by the name of Raidri Leathchúpla. He was a Selkie, having known Selkie personally back in The Frozen Forest, he wasn't surprised to see that one had surpassed him. His final average was a 5:31.766, roughly a hundred miloseconds under his own score. It really had come down to the wire for third place. Arnbjorn would have to congratulate him the next time he saw him, he had a face that was unmistakable so he doubted the racer would be hard to find in the hangars.

The other woman was...surprising. When he first saw who it was he had to call one of the Frozen Forestrian managers to confirm it. It was indeed Amy Ollmhór. Arnbjorn couldn't believe he was actually racing against her, she was an actress but not only that, a popular one in The Frozen Forest. Of course that was because of the Selkie Diaspora, which helped popularize her films. Still she was well known, enough that even he, who rarely watched television, could recognize her. Suddenly he felt inadequate. He was being beaten by an actress. He was a professional pilot and he was being beaten by someone who raced as a hobby! It wasn't infuriating, more like baffling. He tried to put it behind him as he examined the person who had done the best. Derpol Kerman was an unfamiliar name, one that didn't ring a bell. Was Kerman not a popular name in Jebslund? He had heard something along those lines when he was younger. In any case he would get a better feel for his opponent after the next race.

He stretched, it was time to get some sleep. As he drifted off he was hit by the sudden realization that he was enjoying himself. These were the big leagues, the men and women he was competing with were professionals. Suddenly he wished he had someone to share that excitement with. The thought lingered as slipped out of wakefulness.

[Jebslund]

Flora "Sternenjäger" Kerman
7th place. Flora reflected on that as she read the Silver Bay Herald, a local paper, in a local restaurant. She'd studied the Selkie language while doing her time in the military, and maintained a few subscriptions to Selkie newspapers and magazines, so the articles presented minimal difficulty to read, and helped add to her experience of the visit to the beautiful archipelago city, and beat the hell out of staying cooped up in that boat her hotel room was on.

And served to somewhat highlight her somewhat minor, for the moment, failure.

7th place wasn't all that bad a finish. It put her in the upper half of the field, meaning that as long as she didn't fall back, she'd have a couple races at least before she had to worry about being eliminated. It gave her breathing room to go with the room for improvement, to be sure, and the race had served to highlight some flaws in her piloting, including a tendency to overcorrect for turbulence that had cost her time she later managed (somehow) to make up in the last fifth of the qualifier race. It was fairly respectable, given the course and the competition, even if it did leave a fair bit of room for improvement.

The thing that stung the most, and that Flora reflected on the most, were the fact that both lifers (and, indeed, she considered Edmund a lifer. Had his father not died, he'd still be in the Wasserarmee, after all) had outperformed her, the nearest margin being two places, with Die Achte in 5th. She'd set out to prove that she was at least as good a pilot as any damned lifer, if not better, but, so far, she'd only proven that she was an inferior pilot. Not to mention Ms. Second Place would hardly be impressed by a 7th place finish. Still, it did ease some of the sting to see The Pole referred to simply as "person" in the subheader and one of the sentences. It often amused her, the way foreigners almost invariably confused "Kerman" for a last name, if only for the way foreign papers and the like often essentially referred to the Emperor, when they reported on him at all, as "That Emperor Guy", something Emperor Jebediah took in stride and often joked about in his Kamingespräche livestreams.

As Flora finished reading the paper, she attended to the food she'd ordered, a local dish she'd heard about, but never had the opportunity to try until now, and reflected on how best to improve her performance.

Henry and Edmund

All conversations are in Kermanic unless otherwise noted.

"I'm sorry, which of us took first, Die Achte? One fast lap does not, a race, make, kid.", Edmund "Derpol" Kerman mock-chided, sitting across from Henry "Die Achte" Kerman at one of the local bars. Both pilots had ordered beers and several plates of different local bar snacks, on Henry's meats (which had been changed for local currency before leaving), as was traditional when they competed (the loser paid for beer and snacks), and were currently discussing the qualifier.

"You may have placed higher, but I had the fastest lap of the lot, Derpol. Face it. You'd be the one buying if I hadn't lost time in the first fifth.", Henry replied, taking a sip of his beer, "Half my other laps were faster than yours. And I will have you on Wednesday, too, gramps.", he continued. The kid-gramps thing was a playful "argument" that dated back to their school days as a crack Henry had made about Edmund acting as if the three years' difference in their ages made him the de-facto boss (which was likewise primarily in jest).

"True as that may or may not be, kid, the fact of the matter is you *did* lose time there. And you've gone mad if you think I'm letting you win this race, Die Achte. I didn't haul my ass out of retirement just to *let* you beat me. I'm here to keep yours warm and in shape, kid.", Derpol retorted, grinning.

"Now who said anything about letting me win, old man? I'm gonna snatch this race away and leave you in my jetwash, Derpol.", Henry snapped, also grinning, "Let's up the ante: Loser buys winner anything under 50 meats from Gaineamh. Deal?", he proposed, holding his bottle out in front of Derpol.

"Deal", Edmund answered, clinking his bottle against Henry's, "Now hurry up on those snacks. I still need to hand you your ass in pool.", he continued before heartily digging in to one of the plates in front of him. Years of military service had made the two men fast eaters, and Edmund had already moved on to the next plate before his friend/rival had finished answering.

"Pretty sure you mean get your ass handed *to* you *by* me, Derpol. You know I always had better aim than you.", Henry shot back before digging in to his own food with no less gusto. Head start or otherwise, he was *not* letting Derpol finish faster than him, and he was sure as hell not letting the elder pilot win at pool after, either.

_{EDIT:fuckingautocorrect...}

[The Selkie]

Mianach Air Racing Course in Gaineamh, Oileánra-Archipelago.
When travelling to the Archipelago, one had to keep in mind one thing: The Tourism Office of the Merchant Guild of Leuda loved to call it a tropical Archipelago, but in fact, it wasn't. Warm and humid summers, August being the warmest month of the year, sun shining often, the average rainfall being somewhere between 1,000 to 1,500 millimetres per year.
It also didn't rain cats, dogs and everything else every evening.
The day was lovely, though: 32.3 degrees Celsius, not a cloud in the sky, steady wind from North-North-East. Perfect flying weather.
And flying there was: At midday, the Mianach Air Racing Course would host the first regular race of NASJAR 1, a short, but sweet course over the picturesque island and three islands in front of it. The challenge was, unlike in the ravine, not to fly in a canyon and not to crash, but to fly between pylons and perform aerobatics.
Rolls and loopings, Chandelles and Cuban Eights, Hammerheads and Immelmanns and how they all were called – of course, it was not at the pilot's own discretion when to do which, but rather, the pilots had to do these figures in the sky while passing the pylons, daring dances in the sky.
Before the main competition, an old Shane Airworks Piongain Flying Boat Fighter demonstrated the course to the spectators and the competitors, doing well – if taking around two minutes longer then the Fabhcun, a jet fighter, which currently held the track record.
The Town of Gaineamh had dandified itself quite well as well: The whole day over, the 2,000-people-town would host what could best be described as a festival, every stall and every inn and every pub and every restaurant was open, the live radio broadcast of Radio Cornwall 3 and the International Live Stream of the Meánach Media Group ran nearly everywhere, including on the Public Viewing Area in the Market Square.
Air Racing was big in the Free Lands as it combined the three natural things for the traditional horsepeople: Speed, Skill and Thrill. The Mianach Air Race was the biggest air racing event in the entire country. Missing it and the results was comparable to declaring oneself a social outcast.
And it had mojo over the borders of the Free Lands, as did the NASJAR 1 Race, that would be held on the course. There was a reason why Rón Cruise Lines sent their newest and largest ship, the Colm, to serve as an accommodations ship for guests, but up to Shella, a few hundred kilometres away separated by more or less open sea, one would be hard-pressed to find a room or a docking place. Dumhach Harbour was shooing away new arrivals with how full they were. The Aurelia, the personal (and favourite) yacht of Prince Damir of Kyrenaia, was present, as was the Cineál, the business yacht and showboat of Silverport Dockyards Limited. Dozens of smaller boats were present as well, housing spectators and friends.
However, when compared to the Fortress City near the Mendicant's Ravine, Gaineamh appeared absolutely undefended: There were no walls, no gun emplacements, and although one could be certain, that every Selkie carried at least two daggers or throwing knifes on the person, none showed them openly, except for officers of the law. Not many were present, too, the Town Guard not exactly keeping a low profile, but not parading as well. The Water Police was present in force and they were not above showing that, keeping law and order on the sea.
Gaineamh was positively peaceful, a small town half built onto a cliff, half onto the water, footbridges, jetties and gangplanks connecting the houses on stilts in the water with the houses on dry shore.
Although it was technically not tropics, it still appeared as if it was a tropical paradise.

---

Amy smiled as she rounded the plane one final time.
Luckily, they did not share the airfield with any air show elements or civilian airliners today, most of it having settled to fly seaplanes and amphibians, Geabhróg Airlines even putting one of their Seaplane Tenders at the disposal of the event.
It was her Vampire, which had been nicknamed 'the Hitchhiker' by her friends, and she was satisfied. Both by the mechanics' job and by the new paintjob it had received: It was a piece of art, dark green with silver and golden lines along the booms and wings, the tail surfaces carrying her number in bold script. The artistic part, however, came at the front of the fuselage, around the height of the canopy, a nose-art, if one wanted to call it that.
A Silver Horse with a Mane of Fire, its neck bowed forward and its hooves flying – she had been allowed by the High Priest of Rhiannon himself to carry an image of the Highest Goddess of their Pantheon on her plane, honouring Her by her own deeds.
Hopefully, she could do it justice.
“Wonderful, lads.”, she said and nodded again, “Really wonderful. I admit, that I couldn't paint such a wonderful image!”
“And we couldn't act to safe our lives, so it evens out, lassie!”, the head mechanic said to a round of general laughter. “Let's get inside of her and see, if everything works!”
Amy did as she was told.

---

Unlike Amy, Raidri was far more sparing with his praises, his strict face inspecting his plane with keen eyes. Once finished, he nodded to the mechanics.
They understood this as high praise, as him being nearly ecstatic, and he indeed was. A small twinkle in his eyes gave him away. The mechanics did not hold it against him, it was just like he was.
If they were honest, they didn't need gushing praise, being part of the winning team was enough.
And their payment, but that was another story.
Raidri nodded again.
“Final checks may commence in a minute.”, he added to the mechanics and went to get changed into his overall. This was something he was always there for, that and cleaning the plane – the former, he could only take part in, the latter, he did himself.
It was like with a horse: Was it ill, it needed you, but also a doctor – was it fine, you needed to take care of it and it would take care of you.
“Understood, Boss!”, the head mechanic replied with a quick salute.

---

Marla, wearing size C under her beige blouse, and Erblin stood together, their final checks being taken care of by the same guy: Sirlam.
The young mechanic, and Erblin's boyfriend, was very good at his job. Marla did not have a set crew of mechanics, unlike her fellow Selkie, always depending on who was available and herself, which she was quite honest might have resulted in the disaster at the Medicant's Ravine.
Her Grandfather, an old and hale man, helped him with it, checking Erblin's plane.
“We might have the best crew.”, the aviator said to her with a grin, that would have melted her heart, if she didn't know, that he played for the other team. “Most certainly up there with them.”
“Yes, Grandpa knows, what he is doing.”, Marla agreed, “As does Sirlam. Good men.” She let a beat pass. “Give me ten of those and we will conquer the world.”
“A role?”
“From Three Sabres for a Princess.”, Marla confirmed with a nod, “I played the secondary antagonist, a merc only in for the money. A few minutes of screentime. My main job was aerial shootings.”
“Paid well, eh?”
“More stable then air races, that's for sure.”
Erblin scoffed. Wasn't it true, though?

---

The Colm was an Eala-class Cruise Ship built by Silverport Dockyards Limited for Rón Cruise Lines, under the command of Captain Ciaran Casóg of the Tribe of Kildare. This was actually her last test cruise before she would be commissioned in September, the second vessel of this class for Rón Cruise Lines. This was also the reason why his daughter Rona was allowed to be onboard.
And she had a specific duty, even: To sing.
Rona was a girl maturing into a young woman, fourteen years of age, her brown hair short, her brown eyes sparkling. She was roundabout a head shorter then her father, a veritable tower of a man, who's eyebrows and nose she inherited. She was not a bad singer, she was actually quite good, but she was not on the level of Caja Glór of the Tribe of Laois, Aingeal, as she was called.
The Foreign Office had insisted, that Aingeal would not sing, as she doubled as Ambassador of the Selkie – so Rón had taken their Captain's Daughter, who agreed without hesitating.
Now, dressed in her Geansai, she did not even Get Shorter yet, meaning that she wore the Children's Version of the Tribal Garnment, she wasn't quite so sure anymore. She wore, appropriately, Laois' Colours, beige and dark orange, and she not only looked nervous, she was.
“Last time we were here, you got pulled into being a model for Bicíní Industries.”, her father suddenly joked.
“This is a different calibre.”, Rona replied nervously, “I just had to look pretty and to show my rear in a number of different swimsuits.”
“And you did so wonderfully.”, her father said and put a hand onto her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “The pocket money certainly helped, didn't it?”
Rona nodded. Then exhaled.
Someone looking as if he was from the Meánach Media Group signalled her: Five seconds to her appearance.
Her father, in full blue dress of an officer of Rón Cruise Lines, offered her an arm to link, which she thankfully took. One of the conditions for Rón Cruise Lines to put their vessel and its Captain's Daughter at the disposal of the Meánach Media Group and the operating company of the Mianach Air Racing Course had been, that the singer would be accompanied onto the stage by an officer of the company.
The Colm was here as more as a swimming hotel, but also as a stage for an important part, for singing an important song. It was more or less tradition to sing, play or make the anthem heard before the actual race began, by international standards, and the Free Lands went along with it...
...the problem of technically not having an anthem was something others had to worry about.
The Media-Guy nodded and the two began to move.
In the distance, the last ring of the bell of Gaineamh's little Ladra-Temple sounded, signifying that it was one o'clock and that the race would start in a few minutes, and silence came as her father led Rona onto the Sun Deck, the highest deck aboard the Colm, where a small stage had been erected. Other then a small path, the Sun Deck was full of spectators wanting to see a wonderful race.
At the bottom of the stairs leading up to the little stage, she turned to her father, who kissed her hand, bowing down to her. She saw the pride in his eyes.
“Rock their world!”, he whispered to her and she smiled a bit nervously as she went up, nodding to the musicians of the onboard band. They knew her, they had trained this often enough.
Their conductor nodded to her – at her discretion.
And Rona stood at the microphone... and closed her eyes, recalling an old advice to have the music come from the bottom of her heart. The Call was the name of the song sung when the Foireann played and it was the name of the song to be sung here.
In Selkie, a language sounding like singing when one was speaking normally, she began to sing the anthem of people, who called themselves People of Song and Dance:

Come the day and come the hour,
Come the Glory and the Call,
We have come to answer the Call of Our Land,
From the meadows and fields of Our Land!

It was a song, that every child learned in school, sang along when the Foireann, the national football team, played, and as such, it was no surprise, that of the thousands of spectators, not everyone, but very many began to sing along, on the Sun Deck and on the boats and on the Rock and on the beaches. Still, Rona's voice, thanks to technology, sounded over them all.

We, People of Song and Dance,
Together standing tall,
Shoulder to shoulder,
We will answer the Call of Our Land!

International observers were, time and time again, surprised how such an unfederated, disjointed state such as the Free Lands, who's government was practically a few offices, the Elder Council and then the Cities and Towns technically all doing their own thing, could be so united, but the secret was belted out by the thousands of spectators with heart and power: Culture. What they didn't have in a highly organized government, they had in a uniting culture, a sense of being a Selkie.

From the dark Great Woods,
From the Island of Emerald,
From the Shores of Ice and the Silver Bay,
From the meadows and fields of Our Land!

Of course, where others belted like madpeople, Rona sang, her eyes still closed and her heart doing the singing for her, singing less for the audience and more for herself, her father. The Colm's band with their fife, drums, pipes and fiddles almost drowned in the belting, but they were okay with it. Many of them usually played in one of the ship's bars and restaurants (or were supposed to, once she was in service), so they were used to it.

We, People of Song and Dance,
Together standing tall,
Shoulder to shoulder,
We will answer the Call of Our Land!

The Chorus had many different interpretations, some putting it into the sphere of the Younger Militias and their Pikes, some putting it into the sphere of the mercenaries, which wrote this song centuries ago, some putting it into the sphere of sports, where it was at home today – fact was the latter, the Selkie standing as one and shoulder to shoulder in sports, on the field or in the water or in the air, as the latest craze was.

Hearts of Steel
And heads unbowing,
Vowing never to be broken,
We will fight,
Until We can fight no more
To see the meadows and fields of Our Land!

Even with the Foireann only having spirit and moxie, but little in the ways of wins in their bag, let alone trophies, they still sang of unbowing heads and hearts of steel, for they indeed fought until they could fight no more, and so did their fans, who often enough sang this song at their games with the same fervour as here – and it was loud!

We, People of Song and Dance,
Together standing tall,
Shoulder to shoulder,
We will answer the Call of Our Land!

With the third chorus, the accompanying instruments ended their playing, the spectators and everyone else singing with Rona alone, without instruments, but with all the more heart and a few voices more as the band joined in.

We, People of Song and Dance,
Together standing tall,
Shoulder to shoulder,
We will answer the Call of Our Land!

As the song ended, Rona opened her eyes to the gigantic applause she received, and the spectators gave themselves, blushing as she stepped away from the microphone, first bowing to the audience, then to the band, who nodded in approval. She then stepped down to her father, who kissed her on the cheek, tears of pride rolling down his face.
She had to read his lips to catch the You were wonderful!
She would play a role again later, when she would hand the winner of the race a little trophy to commemorate his or her victory, together with a kiss on the cheek to get along with it, but for now, she had one of the best seats in the house reserved for her: On the Colm's Bridge, starboard bridge wing, directly looking towards the course.
At quarter past one o'clock, the first round was flown.

[The Frozen Forest]

Arrival

The boat that pulled onto The Freelands docks was a quaint little thing. It was one of those cruise-liners that one could get a ticket for cheaply due to competitive rates and its size and lack of accommodations. Still! It could float and would stay floating even through tough storms, thats what separated it from driftwood. It had a captain who at the moment of their arrival, came onto the deck and announced to his passengers that they were indeed arriving in The Freelands. Many people, an overcrowding of people had surged fervently to the windows or onto the starboard to see The Freelands for the first time. They spoke a variety of languages which could barely be heard above the excited chatter of adults and children alike. Frozen Forestrian was the most common, but one could also hear Lillorainian, English, French, German, Kuronamian, Camelonean and even some Selkie!

A little girl about the age of eight poked her head through a throng of adults. Her eyes lighting up, a smile and a bubble of nervous excitement bursting from the seams. She gave a little hop, a much older man with a kind grey beard patting her head and chuckling. "We're here! Papa!" The girl cried before racing towards the front of the cruise. The people parted with lighthearted friendliness. She came to a stop and gripped the railings as she bent over to look at the port. So many people! They were flooding off their own cruiseliners, ones much larger than the Chimphony. To her little brain there were more people than she could comprehend. She didn't think that many people existed in the whole world!

Pia Ostergaard LOVED planes, everything about them fascinated her. The sound, the way they flew through the air like birds, even the way that they ran! When she was younger the only thing she would do was watch reruns of old air-racing competitions from The Frozen Forest, Yokotari and The Freelands. Now she was actually there! Her papa had saved just enough to buy tickets and have a little change for souvenirs. It was probably the best day of her life, or so she had told her grandparents as they told her that she would get to see a Air-Race in person. Not only any Air-Race, but the first Air-Race of NASJAR!

The ramps fell down and the passengers began to depart with their luggage, intent on joining the swarms of others arriving. She bumbled past a few older fellows and teeter-tottered at the Ramp. She skipped down the ramp just after her Papa, her eyes taking in the sounds and sights of everyone around her. So many interesting people had come to The Freelands to see the Races, she couldn't get past the sheer amount. She knew that there were going to be lots of different sights they could see while they were there, she had read about it the whole time during the cruise. A Star Lynx, she was absolutely determined to see one. Lynxes were the National Animal of The Frozen Forest so she had seen plenty of those, but the Star Lynx was something else! They were rare, but that wouldn't burst her bubble!

Pia stumbled abruptly into the man in front of her, causing him to trip and fall. His sun glasses fell and broke as he landed on them, the soft crunch smothered by the sounds of people walking. Pia's eyes shot wide open as she realized who she had tripped. "I-i'm so sorry!" She stopped frozen, her face a tomato. The man was no other than her Hero, Arnbjorn Hjolfson! She had seen all his tapes, all his races. She was his self-proclaimed biggest fan, despite being especially small. If there was anyone in the world she wouldn't have wanted to knock down, it was Arnjborn.

Arnbjorn looked temporarily stunned but quickly recovered. She smiled and dusted off his hand, which he had scrapped on the ground while falling. "Its quite alright! It was an accident, my name is Arnbjorn." He offered his hand to the child, his uninjured hand. "I-i-i know...My name is pia...Your my hero! Your one of the racers here!" She shouted, causing a few onlookers to stop and look at the man. Well, his plan of arriving undetected had failed, he might as well make the best of it. "I didn't know i had such nice fans, its nice to meet you Pia. Will you be rooting for me during the race?" His kind eyes betrayed no anger, it was a charming thing. She nodded vigorously, her Papa standing by her side, momentarily stunned. Arnbjorn stood and offered his hand to Pia's Papa. "Well, i just happen to have two tickets especially close to where we take off. I'd love if you two were there to cheer me on!" He pulled out two tickets, which he had bought beforehand for no particular reason but as a reminder of his first international race, for when he was old and wrinkly. He didn't see any harm in giving it to one of his fans instead.

The pair accepted the tickets, Pia looking especially starstruck. He waved the pair goodbye and noticed Pia eagerly chatting her Papa's ear off as he left. They seem like nice people, he thought. Naturally he had to sign a few pieces of memorabilia and clothing as other fans began to clot his path, but eventually he reached the place where his "driver" was waiting. His "driver" happened to also be his brother, who wore a overly tacky tropical Hawaiian shirt. He didn't bother saying anything, the two chatted the whole way to the Hangars. "Dude, you have no idea what i tried this morning. There is this thing they have here, its bread but they boil it in milk and spice! I know-I know it sounds gross right? But its actually really great!" His brother enthused about Maith as he left the car. "Thanks for the lift" he offered as he made his way to where The McClark was sitting.

He did the normal maintenance, checking its steering and its wheels, the engine and emergency ejection system. Everything was in working order, it seemed. He looked across the hangar as Dakov Weimar strolled in. He generally found him to be a nice guy once you got over all the competitiveness, they'd spoken at the end of the qualifiers. Not too far from him was April Baustein, the only female Pilot participating in NASJAR for The Frozen Forest. Her kids sat in plastic white chairs nearby as she explained to them the different parts of her Jet, it was almost a bit heartwarming to watch. The only Frozen Forestrian Pilot missing was Armati Toscano, his plane was being worked on by a small crew of mechanics but he was nowhere to be seen.

Apart from the Frozen Forestrians, there were also the native Selkie Pilots. This was their ground, certainly they would have the home-field advantage here, he wondered how big of an advantage that would be though. Someone was getting sent home at the end of the race, he just hoped it wasn't him. He thought back to the little girl from earlier, he didn't want to let her down! Someone else caught his eye, well actually it was three different people. One woman with surprisingly large...intellect, a boy and another girl. He thought he recognized the girl with the hefty chest, possibly from a movie or show or something like that. No. She was Amy Ollmhór, she was currently in second place for NASJAR. The information he had collected on her flooded back as he realized who it was.

The other woman struck him as incredibly attractive, not that he would tell her anyways. She had long grey hair and sharp blue eyes. He blinked, how hadn't he seen her before? She was obviously one of the pilots, it was odd.

"You know, its impolite to stare." A voice spoke from behind Arnbjorn. He turned to see the smug expression of Dakov. "I wasn't...i mean..i was just trying to remember her name." He made up the excuse on the spot in the hopes he would sound convincing. "Her name is Marla Eitleoir. She placed fourteenth in the qualifiers and yes, i'm fairly certain that she in single." Arnbjorn turned to look at the floor, a lie was expectantly coming. "I wasn't going to ask that..." Dakov laughed lightheartedly, obviously he didn't believe such a statement. "Look, go talk to her. You'll never get a girlfriend if you never talk to young women like miss Eitleoir over there." Arnbjorn gave him an insulted look, as though Dakov were one to talk.

"You know what, i think i will talk to her." He turned before Dakov could throw another joke or insult his way. "Remember, the boy beside her's name is Erblin!" Hopefully they didn't hear Dakov on account of his loudness. They seemed preoccupied with their own conversation as he approached. He smiled the best way he could, doing his best to seem friendly. English tended to be a common Lingua Franca, hopefully they understood it. His knowledge on the Selkie language was limited at best.

"Hello" he offered as he came into earshot. His walk was steady, not rushed nor deliberately slow. He came to a stop to the left of Marla and Erbil, offering his hand as he spoke to the both of them. "My name is Arnbjorn, i'm a pilot from The Frozen Forest. I just wanted to wish you three good luck in our next race." He mentioned three, as to not leave the young actress out of the conversation. "I never realized that your country was so beautiful, the wildlife seems so vibrant. I'm almost jealous that you all get to come back here after NASJAR." Why do i feel so nervous all of a sudden, he thought as he was standing before Marla and the other pilots. He couldn't turn into a hopeless romantic right before the start of the next race, but he was still human. He knew what he wanted, even if he didn't admit it to himself. He had the desire to date Marla. Attraction was such a hassle.

[The Selkie]

(Image)
Arrival

The boat that pulled onto The Freelands docks was a quaint little thing. It was one of those cruise-liners that one could get a ticket for cheaply due to competitive rates and its size and lack of accommodations. Still! It could float and would stay floating even through tough storms, thats what separated it from driftwood. It had a captain who at the moment of their arrival, came onto the deck and announced to his passengers that they were indeed arriving in The Freelands. Many people, an overcrowding of people had surged fervently to the windows or onto the starboard to see The Freelands for the first time. They spoke a variety of languages which could barely be heard above the excited chatter of adults and children alike. Frozen Forestrian was the most common, but one could also hear Lillorainian, English, French, German, Kuronamian, Camelonean and even some Selkie!

A little girl about the age of eight poked her head through a throng of adults. Her eyes lighting up, a smile and a bubble of nervous excitement bursting from the seams. She gave a little hop, a much older man with a kind grey beard patting her head and chuckling. "We're here! Papa!" The girl cried before racing towards the front of the cruise. The people parted with lighthearted friendliness. She came to a stop and gripped the railings as she bent over to look at the port. So many people! They were flooding off their own cruiseliners, ones much larger than the Chimphony. To her little brain there were more people than she could comprehend. She didn't think that many people existed in the whole world!

Pia Ostergaard LOVED planes, everything about them fascinated her. The sound, the way they flew through the air like birds, even the way that they ran! When she was younger the only thing she would do was watch reruns of old air-racing competitions from The Frozen Forest, Yokotari and The Freelands. Now she was actually there! Her papa had saved just enough to buy tickets and have a little change for souvenirs. It was probably the best day of her life, or so she had told her grandparents as they told her that she would get to see a Air-Race in person. Not only any Air-Race, but the first Air-Race of NASJAR!

The ramps fell down and the passengers began to depart with their luggage, intent on joining the swarms of others arriving. She bumbled past a few older fellows and teeter-tottered at the Ramp. She skipped down the ramp just after her Papa, her eyes taking in the sounds and sights of everyone around her. So many interesting people had come to The Freelands to see the Races, she couldn't get past the sheer amount. She knew that there were going to be lots of different sights they could see while they were there, she had read about it the whole time during the cruise. A Star Lynx, she was absolutely determined to see one. Lynxes were the National Animal of The Frozen Forest so she had seen plenty of those, but the Star Lynx was something else! They were rare, but that wouldn't burst her bubble!

Pia stumbled abruptly into the man in front of her, causing him to trip and fall. His sun glasses fell and broke as he landed on them, the soft crunch smothered by the sounds of people walking. Pia's eyes shot wide open as she realized who she had tripped. "I-i'm so sorry!" She stopped frozen, her face a tomato. The man was no other than her Hero, Arnbjorn Hjolfson! She had seen all his tapes, all his races. She was his self-proclaimed biggest fan, despite being especially small. If there was anyone in the world she wouldn't have wanted to knock down, it was Arnjborn.

Arnbjorn looked temporarily stunned but quickly recovered. She smiled and dusted off his hand, which he had scrapped on the ground while falling. "Its quite alright! It was an accident, my name is Arnbjorn." He offered his hand to the child, his uninjured hand. "I-i-i know...My name is pia...Your my hero! Your one of the racers here!" She shouted, causing a few onlookers to stop and look at the man. Well, his plan of arriving undetected had failed, he might as well make the best of it. "I didn't know i had such nice fans, its nice to meet you Pia. Will you be rooting for me during the race?" His kind eyes betrayed no anger, it was a charming thing. She nodded vigorously, her Papa standing by her side, momentarily stunned. Arnbjorn stood and offered his hand to Pia's Papa. "Well, i just happen to have two tickets especially close to where we take off. I'd love if you two were there to cheer me on!" He pulled out two tickets, which he had bought beforehand for no particular reason but as a reminder of his first international race, for when he was old and wrinkly. He didn't see any harm in giving it to one of his fans instead.

The pair accepted the tickets, Pia looking especially starstruck. He waved the pair goodbye and noticed Pia eagerly chatting her Papa's ear off as he left. They seem like nice people, he thought. Naturally he had to sign a few pieces of memorabilia and clothing as other fans began to clot his path, but eventually he reached the place where his "driver" was waiting. His "driver" happened to also be his brother, who wore a overly tacky tropical Hawaiian shirt. He didn't bother saying anything, the two chatted the whole way to the Hangars. "Dude, you have no idea what i tried this morning. There is this thing they have here, its bread but they boil it in milk and spice! I know-I know it sounds gross right? But its actually really great!" His brother enthused about Maith as he left the car. "Thanks for the lift" he offered as he made his way to where The McClark was sitting.

He did the normal maintenance, checking its steering and its wheels, the engine and emergency ejection system. Everything was in working order, it seemed. He looked across the hangar as Dakov Weimar strolled in. He generally found him to be a nice guy once you got over all the competitiveness, they'd spoken at the end of the qualifiers. Not too far from him was April Baustein, the only female Pilot participating in NASJAR for The Frozen Forest. Her kids sat in plastic white chairs nearby as she explained to them the different parts of her Jet, it was almost a bit heartwarming to watch. The only Frozen Forestrian Pilot missing was Armati Toscano, his plane was being worked on by a small crew of mechanics but he was nowhere to be seen.

Apart from the Frozen Forestrians, there were also the native Selkie Pilots. This was their ground, certainly they would have the home-field advantage here, he wondered how big of an advantage that would be though. Someone was getting sent home at the end of the race, he just hoped it wasn't him. He thought back to the little girl from earlier, he didn't want to let her down! Someone else caught his eye, well actually it was three different people. One woman with surprisingly large...intellect, a boy and another girl. He thought he recognized the girl with the hefty chest, possibly from a movie or show or something like that. No. She was Amy Ollmhór, she was currently in second place for NASJAR. The information he had collected on her flooded back as he realized who it was.

The other woman struck him as incredibly attractive, not that he would tell her anyways. She had long grey hair and sharp blue eyes. He blinked, how hadn't he seen her before? She was obviously one of the pilots, it was odd.

"You know, its impolite to stare." A voice spoke from behind Arnbjorn. He turned to see the smug expression of Dakov. "I wasn't...i mean..i was just trying to remember her name." He made up the excuse on the spot in the hopes he would sound convincing. "Her name is Marla Eitleoir. She placed fourteenth in the qualifiers and yes, i'm fairly certain that she in single." Arnbjorn turned to look at the floor, a lie was expectantly coming. "I wasn't going to ask that..." Dakov laughed lightheartedly, obviously he didn't believe such a statement. "Look, go talk to her. You'll never get a girlfriend if you never talk to young women like miss Eitleoir over there." Arnbjorn gave him an insulted look, as though Dakov were one to talk.

"You know what, i think i will talk to her." He turned before Dakov could throw another joke or insult his way. "Remember, the boy beside her's name is Erblin!" Hopefully they didn't hear Dakov on account of his loudness. They seemed preoccupied with their own conversation as he approached. He smiled the best way he could, doing his best to seem friendly. English tended to be a common Lingua Franca, hopefully they understood it. His knowledge on the Selkie language was limited at best.

"Hello" he offered as he came into earshot. His walk was steady, not rushed nor deliberately slow. He came to a stop to the left of Marla and Erbil, offering his hand as he spoke to the both of them. "My name is Arnbjorn, i'm a pilot from The Frozen Forest. I just wanted to wish you three good luck in our next race." He mentioned three, as to not leave the young actress out of the conversation. "I never realized that your country was so beautiful, the wildlife seems so vibrant. I'm almost jealous that you all get to come back here after NASJAR." Why do i feel so nervous all of a sudden, he thought as he was standing before Marla and the other pilots. He couldn't turn into a hopeless romantic right before the start of the next race, but he was still human. He knew what he wanted, even if he didn't admit it to himself. He had the desire to date Marla. Attraction was such a hassle.

Erblin had always been rather perceptive, when it came to emotions and when the Frozen Forest Pilot approached, he saw something in his eyes, that made him smile. Someone seemed to be rather smitten by one of the three of them.
A few moments later, it was clear, who he was smitten by: Arnbjorn, as he introduced himself, tried to include all three of them, but his focus was more on Marla. Erblin smiled.
Amy seemed to come to a similar conclusion, leaving it to the blonde to reply. "Glad to make your acquaintance.", Marla said, giving the young man a once-over, noting he had a rather nicely cut face. "I'm Marla, those are Erblin..." The only other young man in the quarted nodded with a smile. "...and Amy."
"Charmed.", the young woman with the additional fuel tanks nodded with a grin. "Sadly, Erblin and I must go for a bit before the Race. We promised to show his Dad the Vampire."
Erblin nodded. "Yep, that we wanted.", he said and bowed slightly to Arnbjorn. "It was a pleasure. Good luck in the race!" He rose before he added with a grin: "You'll need it!"
"Hey!", Arnbjorn made with indignation - he had been through this already with enough people, he didn't need to add him right before the Race!
Any protest, however, were cut short by giggling to his side. To his ears, it was like the sound of a thousand silver bells, but Marla would disagree. Her eyes were still sharp, but a bit softer, when she spoke to him: "Don't take it personal. A bit friendly rubbing..." She noted his nervousness, smiling slightly to herself. "I'm actually not from here, but from Droichid Island, that's a few hundred kilometres away from here. You're right, though, it is beautiful here. A vacation after NASJAR sounds right..."
Arnbjorn nodded, smiling a bit nervously. "Yes, I can imagine. It must be good to bring out the swimsuit here and..."
He blushed a deep scarlet as he imagined her in a swimsuit, his mind conjuring up sportive competitive models and two triangles and a dental floss and anything inbetween before settling on a sports model - she seemed the type for it.
Luckily, she seemed to miss it. "It's nice swimming here, yes.", she answered and nodded, "The water's warm and the waves soft... well, mostly, at least." She let a beat pass. Marla knew of the rather large community of Selkie-Expats in the Frozen Forest, she knew, that they had the movies with her over there and she did not mind. Arnbjorn seemed to be interested in her, not the Movie-Her. So, her decision was quick: "Tell ya what, this evening, when everything is over, we'll meet for a few drinks. The one ranked worse then the other will pay one round. If one of us wins, the other will pay for the evening. Sounds like a plan?"
For a moment, Arnbjorn was surprised, then he smiled - something very nice to see, as Marla thought. "Yes, it does.", he said, before he added with a hope, that almost seemed cute: "It's... a date, then?"
Marla did need long to reply: "It is, Arnbjorn."
"Marla!", someone hollered, "Get over here!"
Marla's shoulders did not sag, but they went down a slight bit.
"Coming!", she called to her grandfather over her shoulder, their conversation cut short. She rose to the tip of her toes on impulse, giving him a small peck on the cheek almost by accident, but very much deliberate. "See you then."
And with that, she left Arnbjorn standing, completely as if struck by lightning, as she jogged off to meet her Grandfather, Commander Cailpís, who was giving her a few tips before the race.
Arnbjorn did not know, how long he stood there watching her, as the breeze picked up her long, blonde hair and played with it, as she listened to her grandfather with that small smile, the leather jacket hugging her form close.
He then turned with a slightly giddy smile, turning to see Dakov's smug smile.

[NASJAR]

What is a race? A miserable pile of competitions!
Cutoff time, folks!!!!

Deary fucking me there has GOT to be an easier way to make these bloody tables...

RACE 1 results:

Pilot	Part 1	Part 2	Part 3	Part 4	Part 5	Avg
[Winner]00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	7:05.355	7:04.971	7:06.483	7:06.544	7:05.509	7:05.772
[2nd]09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	7:04.965	7:05.653	7:05.667	7:06.741	7:06.269	7:05.859
[3rd]08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	7:04.698	7:05.295	7:05.261	7:08.956	7:05.207	7:05.883
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund)	7:05.006	7:10.187	7:05.021	7:05.024	7:05.690	7:06.186
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest)	7:04.861	7:04.981	7:07.206	7:07.200	7:07.370	7:06.324
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	7:05.219	7:05.598	7:07.069	7:08.919	7:05.039	7:06.369
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands)	7:05.299	7:05.882	7:07.308	7:08.768	7:06.177	7:06.687
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	7:08.978	7:06.951	7:05.138	7:07.502	7:05.919	7:06.898
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands)	7:10.868	7:05.122	7:07.820	7:04.657	7:08.436	7:07.381
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	7:06.931	7:07.716	7:07.690	7:05.218	7:09.412	7:07.393
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	7:05.695	7:05.524	7:07.229	7:13.769	7:05.655	7:07.574
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	7:10.093	7:08.789	7:08.732	7:06.950	7:06.060	7:08.125
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	7:06.100	7:13.206	7:14.757	7:06.130	7:06.024	7:09.243
16 Madison Jones (Shayla)	7:09.211	7:09.161	7:10.274	7:13.592	7:06.106	7:09.669
02 Sadne Marès (Lisander)	7:05.465	7:13.748	7:08.793	7:09.271	7:12.407	7:09.937
12 April Baustein (Frozen Forest)	7:14.232	7:05.324	7:17.542	7:14.968	7:07.269	7:11.867
49 Naoto Ohshima (Field Filler)	7:18.150	7:17.358	7:18.369	7:17.927	7:17.504	7:17.862
72 Hirokazu Yasuhara (Field Filler)	7:17.313	7:18.018	7:19.921	7:17.678	7:20.875	7:18.761
23 Yuji Naka (Field Filler)	7:19.731	7:18.635	7:17.966	7:17.642	DNF	DNF
99 Rieko Kodama (Field Filler)	7:17.373	7:20.039	DNF	DNF	DNF	DNF

Series Standings:

Standings:
Pilot	Points
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund)	37-
00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	34^
08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	34^
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands)	32v
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands)	31v
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	30v
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest)	27^
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	26v
09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	24^
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	24^
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	22v
16 Madison Jones (Shayla)	19v
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	16^
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	15-
02 Sadne Marès (Lisander)	14v
12 April Baustein (Frozen Forest)	15[E]
72 Hirokazu Yasuhara (Field Filler)	6[E]
49 Naoto Ohshima (Field Filler)	5[E]
99 Rieko Kodama (Field Filler)	5[E]
23 Yuji Naka (Field Filler)	4[E]

And that's a wrap for race 1! Cutoff for the next race is Saturday, September 1st, at 1800 Arizona time. It's late and I'm tired, so I'll post tomorrow. As to the wide gap, it'll go away when the standings are finalised. For now, I'm leaving the line breaks in so it's easier for me to see where the data is in the editor. In the mean time, Please let me know if I screwed up somewhere. ^ means the pilot went up in the standings, _v means they went down, and - means they stayed where they were. I'm also debating using the standings to determine eliminations rather than the race.

EDIT: Standings are now finalised. I've decided to use the last place system for now, but will base eliminations on the standings, rather than the races, in the next series.

[Jebslund]

Jebsheim
Jebslund was a large empire, spanning a multitude of environments, but its beginnings had been in a much smaller temperate region, and nowhere was that exemplified more than in Jebsheim, a town in the eastern part of Jebslund, near the coast, but not on it, which had buildings that, though renovated time and time again to keep them compliant with building codes, dated back to before Emperor Jebediah's birth (when it had had a different name, Vanligebene, named for the Vanligebene Flachlund of its founder's home.), and the oldest even outdated Dreicht Nicht-Kerman, who had been in power when Emperor Jeb was born. The architecture of the town was, therefore, designed to mimic the old even as it incorporated the new, with many of the technological devices in and on buildings disguised to look like things one would normally find in a medieval village.

At the heart of Jebsheim was Altstadt, the Old Town, where the original town stood, with the Jebsheim town hall at the center, and buildings surrounding it ranging from homes and pubs to shops and businesses of all kinds, including several smithies specializing in period-accurate arms and armor ranging from the 9th century to the 16th, a couple of which married period weapons with modern techniques and materials, and all of which were licensed to sell to tourists. In the Altstadt, it was common to see police officers wearing locally-made swords and knives which would seem somewhat incongruous with their standard-issue pistols. Altstadt itself, and Jebsheim around it, was laid out in a near-perfect circular grid, in stark contrast to Dürrdürrwüste's haphazard layout, and the streets, while wide enough to accommodate vehicles, were quite narrow in Altstadt, a function of the fact that it had been built well before the invention of motor vehicles. Most of the Jebslunden who lived and worked in this area of the town dressed as Jebslunden in those days did, in accordance with their "class" (though it was worth noting that this had more to do with how their ancestors dressed than anything else. Classes had become roughly equal since then.), with the notable exceptions of the police, who wore the standard regional uniform of Jebslunden police (Standard black with modern body armor and a peaked hat, in this case), and several heavily armed and power-armored guards near a particular house in an otherwise unremarkable area of Altstadt who stood nearly twice as tall as any other Jebslunden.

A woman could often be seen tending to the garden in front of the home, while, through the kitchen window, her husband could often be seen making some form pastry, usually decorated in a remarkably cutesy way, and, to an outsider, there really wouldn't seem to be anything of note other than the guards at first sight. This was by design, as this was the home of Emperor Jebediah Kerman's parents, who, while willing to entertain guests, preferred not to have tourists endlessly gawking at their home, and the guards were there to "encourage" uninvited guests to leave and enable invited guests to enter. They were also more-or-less window dressing, as other, far less obvious, measures were in place to prevent nearly any conceivable attack short of nuclear strikes. While they hadn't been invited per se, the pilots participating in the race (and guests thereof) had permission to stop by for a visit if they wished.

Jebsheim Neuestadt (the rest of the town surrounding Altstadt), had streets plenty wide enough for most vehicles on Kermanic roads, and catered to more modern crowd, despite the aesthetic, and featured plenty of restaurants, bars, clubs, and what have you, though most would be loud and full due to the celebrations for the birthday of Emperor Jebediah Kerman, who would be attending the Jebsheim Experience race. The quiet restaurants and bars, sparse as they'd be, were those local tradition held to be places for romance and (relative) serenity, and were popular with couples who were dating. Of those, three stood out as the best Jebsheim had to offer.

Die Geldbörse des Ältesten, The Elder's Purse, was a pub dating back to the 1800's, and catered to those who preferred a more rustic feel to their dining and drinking experience. It was a favorite of Derpol's from his younger days, and featured a large hearth at one end of the pub, in addition to candles at each table. The servers all wore outfits typical of waitresses in the 1800's, and were said to be some of the friendliest in Jebsheim. They were also the only restaurant in the area licensed to serve StuG-IIIG meat.

For those who preferred a more modern setting, Es Gibt Immer Eine Larry offered the sort of experience one would expect of a high-end modern establishment, though the prices were affordable for middle-class as long as you didn't order ten plates of caviar and lobster with gold foil garnish. It was often said that Jebsheim's best cooks worked there, though that was a claim many local restaurants would dispute in favor of their own staff.

An oddity within Jebsheim, Elektrische Schafe was a fairly new place that had established itself as proof that machines could be great chefs, too, as it was one of the few places in Jebslund that only hired androids and other AIs as staff. The sole Kerbal in the restaurant was its owner, who had made a point of developing a low-lighting futurescape look and feel for the place, and employed the latest technologies within his domain even as the outside of the building appeared (and sounded. he'd paid good money to soundproof the place inside and out such that patrons couldn't hear anyone outside their booths, and those listening at the cracks of the doors could not hear inside the restaurant. A screen on the wall permitted them to see who was approaching before opening the booth to admit them, and mood lighting and music was controlled in each booth by its occupants.) no different from the rest of the town.

As for accommodations, the airfield was home to several inns which catered to air racers, with capacity for up to 50 racers and their crews.

Jebsheim Temple of Snacks
The northwest quarter of Jebsheim was known as the temple district, being home to most of the town's churches, mosques, synagogues, temples, and other places of worship which had largely been clustered around a large temple that, in the past, had stood to the north of the town which had grown to and somewhat beyond it. This was the Jebsheim Temple of Snacks, a temple used primarily for large-scale rituals and sacrifices to the Krakken, and, in point of fact, there were two on the schedule: The annual Sacrifice of the 500, where 500 purpose-baked 10-inch, 3-layer birthday cakes would be sacrificed as they were assembled and frosted. The ingredients for the cakes had been blessed shortly after arrival, and offered to the Watchers for inspection before being used to make the batter, and the first of the cakes would go in the temple's 500 stone ovens two hours after the last of the pilots was scheduled to arrive.

During the Sacrifice of the 500, adherents to the Way of the Krakken would be permitted and even welcomed to offer their own sacrifices to the Krakken to pray for the safety and wellness of the Emperor. Those of other faiths were welcome to pray, and, if they wished and their deities permitted, make their own sacrifices, though no meat or flesh was to be offered. The ceremony proper was expected to last ten hours, after which preparations would begin for the race day ceremony.

On the day of the race, all adherents of the Way of the Krakken not attending or participating in the race would file into the Temple of Snacks to perform a ritual meant to bless the race and provide good flying weather and safe flying for the racers, the conclusion of which would mark the start of the race.

[The Selkie]

What is a race? A miserable pile of competitions!
Cutoff time, folks!!!!

Deary fucking me there has GOT to be an easier way to make these bloody tables...

RACE 1 results:

Pilot	Part 1	Part 2	Part 3	Part 4	Part 5	Avg
[Winner]00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	7:05.355	7:04.971	7:06.483	7:06.544	7:05.509	7:05.772
[2nd]09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	7:04.965	7:05.653	7:05.667	7:06.741	7:06.269	7:05.859
[3rd]08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	7:04.698	7:05.295	7:05.261	7:08.956	7:05.207	7:05.883
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund)	7:05.006	7:10.187	7:05.021	7:05.024	7:05.690	7:06.186
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest)	7:04.861	7:04.981	7:07.206	7:07.200	7:07.370	7:06.324
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	7:05.219	7:05.598	7:07.069	7:08.919	7:05.039	7:06.369
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands)	7:05.299	7:05.882	7:07.308	7:08.768	7:06.177	7:06.687
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	7:08.978	7:06.951	7:05.138	7:07.502	7:05.919	7:06.898
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands)	7:10.868	7:05.122	7:07.820	7:04.657	7:08.436	7:07.381
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	7:06.931	7:07.716	7:07.690	7:05.218	7:09.412	7:07.393
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	7:05.695	7:05.524	7:07.229	7:13.769	7:05.655	7:07.574
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	7:10.093	7:08.789	7:08.732	7:06.950	7:06.060	7:08.125
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	7:06.100	7:13.206	7:14.757	7:06.130	7:06.024	7:09.243
16 Madison Jones (Shayla)	7:09.211	7:09.161	7:10.274	7:13.592	7:06.106	7:09.669
02 Sadne Marès (Lisander)	7:05.465	7:13.748	7:08.793	7:09.271	7:12.407	7:09.937
12 April Baustein (Frozen Forest)	7:14.232	7:05.324	7:17.542	7:14.968	7:07.269	7:11.867
49 Naoto Ohshima (Field Filler)	7:18.150	7:17.358	7:18.369	7:17.927	7:17.504	7:17.862
72 Hirokazu Yasuhara (Field Filler)	7:17.313	7:18.018	7:19.921	7:17.678	7:20.875	7:18.761
23 Yuji Naka (Field Filler)	7:19.731	7:18.635	7:17.966	7:17.642	DNF	DNF
99 Rieko Kodama (Field Filler)	7:17.373	7:20.039	DNF	DNF	DNF	DNF

Series Standings:

Standings:
Pilot	Points
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund)	37-
00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	34^
08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	34^
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands)	32v
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands)	31v
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	30v
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest)	27^
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	26v
09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	24^
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	24^
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	22v
16 Madison Jones (Shayla)	19v
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	16^
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	15-
02 Sadne Marès (Lisander)	14v
12 April Baustein (Frozen Forest)	15[E]
72 Hirokazu Yasuhara (Field Filler)	6[E]
49 Naoto Ohshima (Field Filler)	5[E]
99 Rieko Kodama (Field Filler)	5[E]
23 Yuji Naka (Field Filler)	4[E]

And that's a wrap for race 1! Cutoff for the next race is Saturday, September 1st, at 1800 Arizona time. It's late and I'm tired, so I'll post tomorrow. As to the wide gap, it'll go away when the standings are finalised. For now, I'm leaving the line breaks in so it's easier for me to see where the data is in the editor. In the mean time, Please let me know if I screwed up somewhere. ^ means the pilot went up in the standings, _v means they went down, and - means they stayed where they were. I'm also debating using the standings to determine eliminations rather than the race.

EDIT: Standings are now finalised. I've decided to use the last place system for now, but will base eliminations on the standings, rather than the races, in the next series.

Silver Bay Herald, Internet Edition, published August 26th, 2018.

Selkie-Pilots underperform in Gaineamh

Sternenjäger wins in front of Weimar and Acht.

---

Gaineamh - At the highly-anticipated first 'real' race of the NASJAR-1 Series, Selkie-Pilots underperform on home grounds, with Piteog on six, Leathchúpla on seven, Ollmhór on nine and Eitleoir on thirteen. Ollmhór commented, over her social media account, that it "[...] didn't go as planned."
In further posts, she revealed, that in her opinion, the only part of her aircraft not functioning correctly had been the pilot. Ollmhór, who had been allowed by the Cult of Rhiannon to paint her aircraft in its livery, had been seen as one of the favourites for the course, as she was experienced with the Mianach and its course, but a mistake in her first round resulted in a time penalty. Her fourth lap was the fastest in the entire race, however, with 7:04.657.
Neither Eitleoir nor Leathchúpla wanted to comment, but Piteog said, that he congratulated his fellow aviators, the Kermans Sternenjäger and Acht, as well as Dakov Weimar of the Frozen Forest for their wins. He, who was only 0.6 seconds behind the winner, saw his main mistake in the arrogance he showed when arriving at the course, not giving it a better look or making test laps.
All four Selkie, however, qualified for the Second Race, the Jebsheim Experience, on the 1st of Septembre in Jebslund's former capitol of Jebsheim. There, the last preparations for the race are beginning to take shape.
As the leaderboard currently stands, Leathchúpla and Ollmhór are on four and five, behind Derpol, Sternenjäger and Acht, Piteog on ten, Eitleoir on fourteen. With fifteen points, Eitleoir is close to elimination ranks, while both Leathchúpla and Ollmhór can still make veritable claims to victory due to them only being five and six points respectively behind the leader, Derpol.
The races remain tight.
KIW, Peata.

---

Jebsheim was, if one asked Raidri, Kiah, Sirlam and Erblin, quite a sight.
It almost felt like home, which had caused them to bust out their own 'period clothing', as tourists liked to call it, the simple tunics and pants, that they usually wore, when they weren't around for a job. It was wonderful to just spend the day before the race with a bit of sightseeing.
Kiah, the Silver Bay Herald's photographer and reporter, had noted drily, that it was quite ironic for the man, who had said to her, that they had been too arrogant last time and didn't look at the track before the race more thorough, to go sightseeing, but she had come along herself. She was the only one in Gensai, as it was appropriate for a woman of Waterford's Descent (to stay with the period in terminology), it was in Waterford's Colours, which she wore with pride.
They had taken the Temple of Snacks' offer for sacraficing for the Emperor's Wellbeing (and the wellbeing of their own fellow racers) up, offering incense sticks to the dieties instead of meat, which they were not allowed to do by their own religion as well. The sticks had been special as well, incense sticks from Star Weed, which was a special kind of incense.
But back to the present, all of them had declined the invitation to visit Emperor Jebediah's parents for tea and biskuits, gratefully, being honoured by the opportunity. Both pilots were tense, that was clearly visible, even when they smiled, laughed with people about the Gods knew what...
...they felt, that this was a momentous occassion, both personally and professionally.

---

Marla, meanwhile, was looking at the course.
Her date with Arnbjorn was unforgotten, but for the sake of her professionalism, she was to put it aside. She could not let her liking, very much liking (she was not yet going to apply the other L-Word to her feelings!), hinder her in this race. This might be her last chance.
She was second to last. She would be eliminated, if she couldn't rise up in the leaderboard.
That was a shame, that she would not be able to wipe aside.
The Jebsheim Experience was a course, that reminded her a lot of the Seabhcóir Aerodrome Racefield, which ran over populated areas as well - unlike the Town of Falconers, though, the Jebsheim Experience enforced strict speed limits. It would be unwise to ignore them.
That, however, also gave only a few, rare opportunities for overtaking.
Gods, that would be a heck of a race... not to mention, that she was comfortable again with her Size B Cups. She had the advantages on her side, she hoped. She did not want to put shame onto herself.
Or her grandfather.
He always said, that he was alright with whatever she brought home, but she wanted to bring something home. She was ambitious, no question asked, but she had wanted to.
She continued on, walking down the course before she went for a light lunch.
For a moment, she contemplated taking up the offer for a visit to Emperor Jebediah's parents, and she was entertaining the thought for quite a while of the walk, but then decided against it as well. With all appropriate and more respect, she had no idea about what to talk with them about.
So, she went for the Electric Sheep, simply for the name and its reputation.
They didn't disappoint. Just as Marla hoped, that she wouldn't disappoint - her grandfather, her folks back home, herself.

[The Frozen Forest]

Dakov | A Date | Amy

The Races back in The Freelands, though not forgotten weren't concerning to Dakov as he pulled up a brightly lit-friendly hotel just outside of the Old Town, Altstadt. Thus far he had been surprised to find such medieval architecture mixed with modern technology all around Altstadt. If someone had told him about it prior to actually seeing it, he might have called them a liar. Even here, just outside the district things were still somewhat old looking, though he understood they may have just been made to look the part while being fully operational in actuality. The Hotel where Amy was staying at matched the rest of the town in that it appeared to be an inn. He would barter that the design was closer to the later medieval inns, definitely accurate though. He imagined that The Frozen Forest would have had an inn like that if his ancestors hadn't be separated from the homeland.

Earlier that day Dakov was busy in his own hotel. The outside was decorated in a way to appear as a guild house. He wasn't sure if there had been guilds in Jebsheim during medieval times but felt it was a fair assumption since he was sort-of living inside one for the rest of the second race. Dakov glanced at his watch as he came through the door with some fresh produce. It was about 4:30 PM and he had to be at Amy's hotel in an hour and a half. That didn't leave him a lot of time to prepare. His whole day up till then had been a whirl of coaching from his team. Even after a stunning second place triumph they had been working incessantly to see that he improved. He understood that they wanted a first place victory in the next race, he had resolved to just give the training his all.

He would groom for any girl, not that many actually grabbed his attention. He knew that this wasn't just anyone he was going out with though, she was on the same caliber as him. He used a new cologne, freshly bought and trimmed so his face was clean, albeit not considerably soft by any means. His hair was still a bit wild, though this time it was more carefully controlled. He went through the routine of showering, brushing his teeth and using a mint just to keep his breath fresh. It was a lot of work for one night, it had probably cost him about 150$ to get ready, not including their later food bill.

He was a well-funded pilot, the money wasn't something he was concerned about. The image of Amy smiling kept bubbling into his mind. That was what he was aiming for, a kiss at the end of the night would be a treat but her smile was dazzling, that was his reward. He felt a strange brew of feelings rising through him as he left his room dressed in a casual but crisp flannel shirt. A box of expensive chocolates were nestled neatly in his left hand. They were Godiva Chocolatier Chocolates and were imported from Belgium. Something had ordered after leaving The Freelands specifically for the date, they had arrived just when he needed them too.

His 1970 Plymouth Barracuda had been flown out from The Frozen Forest. He was still a young man, normally someone his age couldn't have afforded something like it, it had been a gift from his grandfather, and it was in remarkable condition for all the years that he had it. Now Dakov hoped that he could impress Amy with it. He pulled out of the parking lot and made his way to the "Inn" where she was staying at. He had already memorized the route but had his GPS on his phone active, just in case they were caught in traffic or a road was blocked for whatever reason.

The door had a buzzer, much like an apartment back at home. It was cleverly disguised as the doors knocker, he might have missed it if he hadn't stopped to think about what he was going to say to Amy once he met her. He buzzed and the door popped open. As he entered the lobby a young woman came down a flight of stairs. She was dressed in a soft-pink sweater that did well to give her a more modest appearance. It did well to give attention to her face instead of her bosom, which was something Dakov couldn't help but smile at. He had been worried unrealistically that she might have worn something a bit more revealing. Another man may have found that incredibly appealing but he actually didn't, he wasn't the sort to enjoy cheap thrills.

"You look modest, i'm impressed." He teased, naturally implying that he didn't think she could pull of look that didn't incorporate her chest. His eyes betrayed the fact that he wasn't serious and she retorted gracefully. "I half expected you to look like a caveman. I guess we're both impressed." He made a shocked expression in jest, earning him the smile he had been looking forwards to. "We should get going" They were off a moment later. He noticed a pair of eyes on him as he drove and when he turned to face them he was met with a heart-melting pair of caramel irises. He felt his face flush and a snatch of butterflies release in his stomach, fluttering through his body. "I'm not embarrassed with my chest, you don't have to worry about upsetting me." She said calmly in an almost seductive manner. It was probably bait, he expected teasing if he did in fact look.

"You have a beautiful chest but i'm more interested in what the girl it belongs to has to say." His retort was fast but not quite full of his normal confidence. "Your not a full time pilot, right?" He understood that this wasn't her strongest passion in life, he couldn't relate in that aspect. "I picked it up as a hobby. I do some other things, like modeling and acting too. I'm also an IT specialist." He hid his surprise, she had accomplished a lot already, there couldn't be that much of a distance in their ages. "I can't imagine how you have any free time between all of that..."

"Well, maybe i'm just really driven?"

"Well, maybe i think that's cute." Dakov noticed a hint of a blush at the sudden compliment. His cheeks must have flushed as well as she laughed at him lightheartedly. "Whats so funny" he chuckled as he asked, causing her to laugh harder and shake her head. "Nothing at all. I think this is it on the left..."

Dakov parked and the pair made their way into the restaurant. It was nearly empty, apart from an odd patron or two. He could count on one hand how many even turned to glance at the pair. Either they didn't care who Dakov and Amy were or didn't realize who they were. He got one look of jealousy from a young man, but that was all. In The Frozen Forest, it was customary for a waitress to take a seat immediately, though he understood that sometimes in other cultures, you were expected to wait for a waitress to show you to a seat. Judging by the lack of patrons, he felt it was one of those times that they could just sit.

He pulled a chair out for her and she sat with a courteous thank you. Her smile was genuine, he suddenly pondered if he had been wrong about her. As an actress, she must have had dozens of suitors. If acting like a gentleman caused her to smile so brightly then was he wrong in his original notion? Why did the thought make him happy?

He glanced towards the bar section of the restaurant. Several Kerbals were busy getting ready for what he presumed would be a flood of tourists the next day. The only person not rushing about was a single waitress. That is, a human waitress. The waitress seemed overworked and tired at first glance. That was all he gave her, one quick glance before he turned to Amy, who had begun unfurling her silverware from a napkin. "Have you ever tried Kerbal food?" She posed the question and he gave her a thoughtful look. "No." He answered, he wasn't quite sure what the local cuisine even was.

"Its almost empty in here. I guess that means we aren't going to be hounded by rabid fans, but i'm glad. I was hoping we would get the chance to have a normal dat-" The waitress from earlier had finally made her way to their table. "I know you!" He and Amy both turned to look at the girl, who wore a shocked expression. She was looking at him. "Dakov Weimar, you placed second in The Freelands! My whole family watched the race, i thought you looked great!" The girl squealed, causing a few patrons and staff to look their way. "My name is Sofie Vermeulen by the way. When did you arrive here in Jebslund?"

Dakov was momentarily caught off guard by the sudden exchange. Amy's expression had changed to something resembling contempt. She was scowling at the waitress, who completely avoided the expression. "I just arrived the night before last." He answered politely in order to avoid embarrassing Amy. Suddenly he wondered if that was the right course of action. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that the girls blouse was unzipped where it previously hadn't been. He suddenly understood why Amy's expression had changed.

"Really? Well i only live around the block, if you wanted i could show you around sometime. I mean, if you weren't busy at all..." The girls blush was deep enough for him to wonder if she had been drinking, though evidently she hadn't been. He didn't crave to know more about her, he was interested in the amber-eyed girl with the beautiful smile that sat on the other end of the small table. "I think i'll be alright." The girl took a step closer, bending slightly so that she was only inches from his face. "Are you sure? I'll be free all week and i'd love to...spend some time with you, i could show you the best place in town for coffee and-"

"No, its really alright. Could we have our menus?" He shut her down and she backed off slightly. "Y-yes, of course. Here you go." She pulled two menus from her tray and offered them to Dakov and Amy. The girl took a long moment to release her grip as Amy took a hold of the menu, before swirling away with a "hmpf!" Dakov spoke before meeting Amy's eyes. "I'm really sorry about that..." Her expression had totally changed. She looked much calmer, as though she understood something that he didn't.

"No. Its alright, i understand what its like to have difficult fans. At least she took no for an answer.." She didn't want pity, nor was she upset at the altercation. Her face had simply softened as though she were remembering something difficult. He knew better than to ask, if she had been stalked by fans before, he wouldn't be surprised. "I'm not interested in anyone but you." He made the declaration boldly. It was a first date after all. It was very well and likely that Amy wouldn't share the attraction, but if she didn't, why make the bet to go on a date regardless of a loss or a win in The Freelands?

Regardless the declaration seemed to have some impact on her. She smiled and he knew that was the end of it. They began to scan through the items on the page, numerous average meals like pizza and burgers. They had some exotic stuff too, which both him and Amy ordered. He chose Penne pasta covered in arrabbiata sauce. She had a type of French stew of which's name he couldn't pronounce. They talked about flying, about life, their childhoods and their aspirations. As the conversation moved along they found that they were sharing more and more intimate details. There was chemistry and Dakov felt it. Every time she looked at him, it shot a jolt through him. Like lightning, she had a paralyzing effect on him. It wasn't love, it was too early for him to say that he loved her, but the way she made him felt was incredible.

They finished their talk and split the bill at 7:45. Amy avoided the waitresses scowl and he avoided her increasingly desperate attempts to court his attention with her...womanly charms. They left together and began on their way back to her hotel. Against his expectations they hadn't had a drink between them, Amy seemed to be happy and he couldn't help but suppress a smile as she leaned up against him in the car. She rested her head against his shoulder. He could feel the warmth radiating off of her cheeks, the soft shimmer in her eyes. Their hearts were racing as they pulled into the driveway.

"Thank you. I really enjoyed tonight, its been awhile since i've had a date like that." She bit her lip.

"I had fun too, but i was wondering if i could take you out again. I mean, after our next race."

He felt her hand rest on his chest as she leaned over. Their lips connected, he felt the soft, warm intensity that radiated from her cheeks. For a long moment they enjoyed the moment, their eyes shut in momentary bliss. Fireworks went off, a burning cinder of passion working its way between them. Then it was over, Amy pulled back slowly, locking eyes with Dakov. "Don't get used to that. I'd like to see you again, but we're still splitting the bill." He smiled at her stubbornness as she continued. "When we get to Seabhcóir, then we can see each other again. Lets keep it professional in the Hangar." He smiled and she hugged him, then she was gone.

He felt his phone buzz from his pocket just as he watched her disappear past the door to the Hotel Lobby. He pulled it out to see that it was a text from Arnbjorn.

"How did your date with Amy go? Was The Elders Purse as good as Hauptmann said it was?" -Arnbjorn

"I just dropped her off. The date was great apart from this one waitress. She kept making moves on me." -Dakov

"How did Amy take it? Was she jealous at all?" -Arnbjorn

"She was upset at first but calmed down after a minute. I think she has some experience with difficult fans. Anyways, weren't you and Marla seeing each other today? How did that go? -Dakov

"We had the hangar all to ourselves. We drank and talked a little. It was...i think i might be in love." -Arnbjorn

"Sounds great, just don't let it get to your head. If your flying starts to suffer, Coach will probably try to put an end to it. -Dakov

"I'm not worried about it. I'm going to bed, see you in the hangar tomorrow. -Arnbjorn

Yeah. You too. -Dakov

[The Selkie]

Hangars of the Gaineamh Aerodrome, Oileánra-Archipelago.
It was the evening after the race.
Marla figured, that Arnbjorn, ranked a respectable eighth place when compared to her thirteenth, had forgotten about their date in all of the hubbub around them – but here she was, sitting on her aircraft's wing in her usual combination of white blouse (C-Cups beneath it), beige dress shirt and her customary black leather jacket next to her. Her miniskirt and her leather boots were on their places as well.
This was home ground. She had wanted to win, especially in front of her grandfather.
Second place, she could have lived with that.
Thirteenth?!
A shame.
And although he didn't say it, she had seen the pity in her Grandfather's eyes. Softly, her head banged against the fuselage in frustration.
“You'll damage your plane, if you do that too often!”, a voice suddenly called and Marla's head snapped forwards – there he stood, his own aviator jacket opened. Arnbjorn. He had not forgotten about her. “And your head.”
Marla grinned. “Maybe my head needs a bit of damage, both after today and to maybe fly better!”, she said and motioned for him to come closer. “Come! I have good whiskey – local brew, barley from the Trossach. Local spices. Good to drink.” With a smile, she saw him approach and climb onto the wing, examining him. Under his jacket, he wore a good shirt and a nice pair of pants, which emphasized, that he wasn't a slouch in the fitness room.
Quite on the contrary, she liked, what she saw.
As he sat, she spoke: “As we bet, I'll pay for the first round. Barkeep, two whiskeys, local brew!” And then, she changed her voice to a deep voice, still grinning: “Sure thang, lassie! Here ya go! Bottle's on the house!” Back to her normal voice, she replied to the barkeep: “Wow, awesome, thank you!”
And by then, she had produced two glasses, filled them with whiskey and handed Arnbjorn one.
“That's how we drink it. Only whiskey and nothing else, not even rocks.”, she explained, “And that really happened. The shopowner gave me the bottle for free, when he recognized me. I'm not sure, if it is cheating or not.” She sighed and motioned to the hangar, empty, safe for the two of them and several aircraft. “To be honest, this is better then overcrowded bar, where we're asked for selfies and autographs every five seconds.”
Arnbjorn smiled, a slight bit of worry in his eyes, but also nervousness. “Well, then to flying?”
“To flying.”, Marla agreed and raised her glass, “And to the wide, blue yonder. May it be as pleasant as today.”
“You don't need to beat yourself up. You flew a good race.”, Arnbjorn said after a sip. It was a good, strong whiskey, with flavour.
“I know... and others flew better.”, Marla replied, a bit of anger clouding her voice, together with resignation. “Next time, I'll be better.”
“That's the spirit!”
Marla snorted in amusement. “You believe, that this will cheer me up? Or the whiskey?”, she asked with a sad smile before she sagged against his shoulder. “No, neither will. But you will. A nice and friendly face to talk to.” A beat passed. “Or to share a bottle with.”
“Well, what do you want to talk about?”
“Whatever comes to mind.”
“Hm...”, Arnbjorn thought for a moment, then snorted: “My Mum always wants me to make lots of pictures, wherever I race. But during NASJAR, I rarely have time, so, when the round is finished, I always hurry up and get as many snapshots in as I can – but here, I tried to get the shots over time.”
“Did it work?”
“Not in the least.” Marla hid a giggle behind her hand, but Arnbjorn grinned as well. “But it was nice looking around this town. You have a beautiful homeland!”
“Oh, you haven't seen a thing!”, Marla replied with a grin, “When we are in Seabhcoir, the City of Falconers, let me give you a small tour – I'm not from there, but I went to Flight School there. I know the town and wonderful spots for photos. Your Mum will have her eyes fall out!” Marla grinned. “Speaking of, do you have the camera on you?”
“Yes, sure.”, Arnbjorn replied, a bit surprised at the sudden change in topic, and took the little device out of his pocket. “Why?”
“What do you think?”, Marla said and scooted close in to him, so that they would fit onto one image frame if the camera was held at arm's length.
Arnbjorn furrowed his brow, then turned the little device on, holding it out at arm's length. “On three... one – two – three!”
At three, he pressed the button – just in time to catch Marla's lips meeting his cheek, caught on camera, including his beginning surprise, then followed by giddiness.
He looked at the image on the little screen, of her kissing him: “I've been kissed by Marla Eitleoir!”
Marla smiled, raising an eyebrow. “That's something special?”
“Yes, of course!”, Arnbjorn replied and grinned, “You are famous in the Frozen Forest, not only amongst the Selkie-Community! The movies you star in are always well-watched and you would be celebrated like a heroine in some places!” He grinned at his camera. “And I have been kissed by you, twice, and I have proof!”
Marla looked at the screen, too, until he packed the camera away.
“That might be, Arnbjorn.”, Marla replied with her grin shrinking to a smile, “But just for your Mum, I want to be Marla, a nice girl you know.” The Selkie threw caution to the wind and swung her leg over Arnbjorn, straddling him a moment later. She could see, that he was slightly overwhelmed by the situation, but very much approving of it. “Might be a jet racer, too, and an actress, part time model and stunt woman by main occupation, but primarily, that Marla is a girl you know.”
“Not like any other girl.”, Arnbjorn replied, his arms snaking around Marla's hips, more then he would have ever hoped for.
She grinned, which shone like the sun did over the Archipelago.
There was confidence in his eyes, which was replaced by a bit of confusion, as she snuggled against his chest. He saw, how deeply disappointed she was because of her performance, how vulnerable she was, how much she sometimes hated being Marla Eitleoir of the Tribe of Fingal, a famous actress, just wanted to be Marla, at least for a bit.
He cut push her away, he could seduce her, he could do many things.
But after a moment, he decided to wrap his arms around her and to pull her closer, which caused her to smile, tears in her eyes.
To him, he would be Marla.

[The Frozen Forest]

April Baustein's Goodbye

The crowd was tense going into the final part of NASJAR's first race in The Freelands. Jets roared and raced through the course, preforming various maneuvers and tricks required of them, the less experienced of the Pilots were incapable of doing them and some even dropped out. The festivities were still going strong, money was flowing in as tourists bought drinks and food while they watched the Pilots in action. The Selkie who were fortunate enough to own stalls or restaurants were also likely to have made vast sums of money, albeit in a few different-odd currencies. With so much going on and with the atmosphere being so tense, it was no wonder that no one noticed the tiny leak that led to the fuel tank of April Bausteins Jet running dry.

The Baustein children were watching the show from a set of lawn-chairs just off of the runway. Naturally they were in a designated area so it was safe for them to watch where they were, but they also happened to have a great view of their mother as she made her way through the Race. Her times were a mismatch of good and bad, the leak must have begun during the fifth part of the race, as there were no prior indications of a fuel leak before hand. As April Baustein began the fifth part, it was theorized afterwards that she had someone damaged the fuel tank within her vehicle, and somehow it had gone undetected. It was a miracle that she managed to finish the race without burning out on the runway, or that she actually finished the last part of the race with such a good time.

April, realizing that her fuel had dropped rapidly and that she was nearing an empty tank, had contacted the ground to explain the situation. The error could have had worse consequences, she was of course terrified that she wouldn't be able to taxi off the runway in time. The last thing she wanted was for her children to see their mother and another pilot consumed in a fiery metal wreck. Crisis was avoided, but she was left humbled by the experience, however minor. She would be leaving NASJAR, her scores for the first, second and fourth part of the Race had been low and although her fifth time had been adequate, her average came out just low enough to have her leave.

She was upset but whereas another pilot may have drowned the loss in booze, she found consolation in her family. When she arrived back at the hotel at the end of the race, she found a cake waiting for her. Her kids had baked it with help from her husband. It was a sweet gesture, she was a strong woman but it caused her to have a small period of immediate grief. "I'm sorry" she repeated it as her kids comforted her. She had come to NASJAR to prove to the world that yes, she was old, but her dreams wouldn't be dashed because of that. Evidently she couldn't compete with the younger cubs. Her cubs didn't mind, she took solace in that.

"It was nice meeting you all, maybe i'll see you again at the next NASJAR competition?" It was a joke aimed at three young people who were gathered to see her off. Arnbjorn took her hand and shook it, offering something of an apologetic and sympathetic expression. "I'll be looking forwards to it." Dakov had turned away from his normally competitive mood, but surprisingly he didn't bother to rub in his victory. "Don't get lazy on me. You owe me another race, so you better keep practicing." Armati Toscano spoke last, but his words carried the most weight. "Don't let it get you down, your a great pilot and i'm honored that i got to race alongside you. Our country is lucky to have someone like you defending it every day. You'll be a hero when you get back, so cheer up!"

"Thanks everyone, that really means something to me. I'll make sure i cheer you three on for the rest of your races. My kids will be looking forwards to seeing you pull off a win, especially you Dakov. Jeremy is one of your fans." She turned to look at the boat behind her, a single kid stood at the starboard. "I'll be off then, i shouldn't keep the Captain waiting much longer. Take care!" The four Pilots separated and made their way to their respective planes and ships, which would take them to their next race in Jebslund.

Armati was excited for the Race. He was still fairly safe within the ranking, he didn't feel like there was much danger of being eliminated in the next round. His time in The Freelands hadn't been so bad, he'd gotten to try new food and had seen the so called "Tropical Paradise" though in actuality it wasn't really that tropical. Still they seemed like a cultured people, there was a large number of Selkie back in The Frozen Forest so naturally anything he picked up during the first race might have some use when he returned home at the end of NASJAR.

[Jebslund]

Die Geldbörse des Ältesten
[Note: All conversations are in Kermanic unless otherwise noted]
Abbey Kerman was a man who often had to be told to mind his volume when speaking. It had served him well as a drill instructor in the army, but his reintegration into civilian life ad been somewhat rocky socially as a result. That said, he'd built up a good life as a civilian, running his own pub, building a circle of friends who were now rushing around like so many headless chickens to get ready for the post-race rush. A lot of couples had made reservations for dinner dates, both as personal observations of the Emperor's birthday and as a way of spending a special evening together after a race and holiday.

Even so, a watchful eye was kept on a certain waitress he'd been having issues with lately, and what he saw brought out a side of him his friends and employees rarely got to see. Friends of Abbey knew that having to remind him to keep his voice low was a good thing. A great thing, even. It meant he was in a good mood, and a happy Abbey was a happy Elder's Purse.

If, on the other hand, he kept his voice low on his own, it was a sign that he was mentally reigning himself in. Invariably, not needing to remind Abbey of his volume meant someone had pressed a button they shouldn't have, and was about to get a lecture at best. "Hey, Abbey, something on your mind?", the braver of his friends, a woman named Edda Kerman, asked, following his seething gaze toward the waitress and the two racers she was serving. For the most part, Jebslunden were not prone to pestering famous people who were clearly on dates or just doing their shopping. There were specific unspoken rules in Jebslunden society as to when, where, and how one approached celebrities, and a pub while on a date, particularly when one was a waitress, was considered very bad form, something that would be reflected in the occasional glares the waitress got from other patrons who noticed some of the more overt flirtiness in her body language.

"She will no longer have a job when those two leave. Spread the word: Sofie Vermeulen is to serve no new customers.". Superstition in Jebslund had it that pulling a waiter or waitress from a table before a customer complained or imminent danger was bad luck, even to fire them, so waitstaff tended to simply be ordered not to serve any more new tables. It was also a sign that Abbey was far angrier than he let on. This wasn't the first time Sofie had been caught flirting with a customer, nor was it the first time she'd done so in spite of the fact that said customer was on a date. Or even married. It would definitely, however, be the last night of such flirting.

As the human in question went back to the kitchen after bringing the pilots their food, one of the Kerbals near her whispered, "Do not take any new tables. You are to clock out after the pilots leave and report to the back office.", in her ear, then went back to the preparations. A sigh of annoyance from Sofie indicated she'd heard the order, and, for a brief moment, she considered defying the order until she remembered that such delay tactics were illegal under the same laws that proscribed any non-customer who was not on-duty in a role which included waitstaff or chef duties from handling food after it was cooked, and she was considered no longer in that position as of the pilots leaving now that she'd received and heard the order.

Minutes after the happy couple walked out, Derpol and Die Achte walked in, both dressed in accordance with the local custom, and a new dagger hanging from Henry's belt as a souvenir from Gaineamh, chatting about the race, as usual. As they headed toward the bar, Derpol stopped to chat with a Kerbal waitress. "Aren't you usually off today, Farica?", he asked, a look of slight surprise on his face. As a regular, Derpol knew nearly every member of the staff.

"Sofie was caught flirting again. This time, it was at one of the other pilots in the race. Dakov, I think. Abbey's furious."

"As well he should be. Has no one explained to her that celebrities are to be respected here?", Die Achte asked, his tone somewhat sharper than intended.

"Abbey's asked that some gifts be sent to their hotel as an apology. The usual?", Farica replied, back to business. As the two pilots accepted and sat down, their conversation once again turned to the race, and the bets on who would win were made, with Die Achte ginning upon being told that Derpol had made the same bet with one of the other pilots. No sooner had the pair received their food and drinks than the sound of a slamming door shattered the calm of the restaurant, the human running by in tears as Abbey stalked out behind her, looking angrier than Derpol had ever seen him.

"I apologise for the disturbance. I needed to sort out an issue with the service.", the restaurant owner quietly offered, "Farica, thank you for coming in on such short notice. Please remind me to pay you triple time for tonight. I understand you had to skip out on a party to be here, and I apologise for that.".

Sternenjäger Kerman
Sternenjäger wasn't deeply religious. Sure, she worshipped the Krakken, but she didn't consider herself a member of the order. Hers were small things here and there, and the occasional thankful sacrifice for a particularly spectacular success (such as her recent first-place finish). But, even so, when the Sacrifice of the 500 started, she was at the Temple of Snacks with her sacrifice bowl, and, as the Watchers sacrificed the cakes, she placed one slice of pumpkin pie, her favorite, into her bowl, being careful not to look directly into it as she did, and wished, too, for the Emperor's wellbeing, as well as that of the Prime Minister, and each of her fellow racers. As she did, she noticed the smell of incense in the air, one which she'd never smelled before, and looked around to find the source before her eyes rested on four of the Selkie pilots. A smile graced the Kerbal's face as she took in the smell, one that she was sure would please the Krakken as well as their own deities. As soon as she made her sacrifices, Sternenjäger made one more, a full bag of pumpkin candies that tasted almost exactly like pumpkin pie, as a thank-you not just for the success of her previous race, but for giving her the opportunity to be in Jebsheim for the ritual and Jebslund for the Emperor's Birthday, which she knew she'd later be celebrating at one of the noisier pubs with the locals.

It would help ease the pain of the rumors she'd heard about a certain Selkie deciding that another competitor, Dakov, was the one she found worthy of her affection. As would the taste of the Krakken's power as she drank the glowing blue communion ichor that had appeared in a bottle in her hand after the sacrifices.

[Jebslund]

Cutoff time, folks! Pencils down, tests to the front of the class!

EDIT: It's not in a neat table, and the times are in seconds, I know, but I'm about to fall asleep in spite of my best efforts, so please bear with me. I'll try to have everything finalised and prettied up tomorrow before I leave for work.
Done! ^__^ Colored names are safe until that race.

Race 2:

Pilot	Part 1	Part 2	Part 3	Part 4	Part 5	Avg
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund) [winner]	6:04.927	6:05.649	6:05.601	6:10.508	6:05.837	6:06.504
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest) [2nd]	6:06.032	6:11.730	6:06.922	6:06.144	6:05.926	6:07.351
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands)	6:06.732	6:06.684	6:09.626	6:08.752	6:06.637	6:07.686
09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	6:04.932	6:14.671	6:07.538	6:05.610	6:05.720	6:07.694
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	6:05.635	6:06.337	6:06.253	6:10.521	6:09.748	6:07.699
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	6:09.465	6:06.718	6:07.070	6:06.164	6:09.804	6:07.844
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	6:10.140	6:08.249	6:06.428	6:07.888	6:06.874	6:07.916
08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	6:07.556	6:08.592	6:05.739	6:09.142	6:10.354	6:08.277
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands)	6:07.893	6:06.270	6:09.337	6:10.857	6:07.309	6:08.333
00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	6:06.715	6:18.116	6:06.696	6:06.309	6:05.949	6:08.757
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	6:09.826	6:10.515	6:09.353	6:09.584	6:11.038	6:10.063
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	6:12.158	6:11.817	6:08.686	6:10.270	6:10.907	6:10.768
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	6:10.401	6:10.955	6:11.598	6:11.609	6:11.187	6:11.150
02 Sadne Marès (Lisander)	6:09.528	6:09.577	6:13.798	6:11.851	6:11.830	6:11.317
16 Madison Jones (Shayla)	6:11.065	6:11.873	6:15.553	6:11.375	6:12.908	6:12.555

Series Standings:

Standings:
Pilot	Points
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund)	57-
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands)	50^
08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	47-
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest)	46^
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	46^
00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	45v
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands)	43v
09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	41^
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	38^
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	35v
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	32-
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	30^
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	24v
16 Madison Jones (Shayla)	25E
02 Sadne Marès (Lisander)	21E

Edit: in which I muck up the standings... good thing I caught it so quickly...

Next race is Seabhcoir!

[The Selkie]

Cutoff time, folks! Pencils down, tests to the front of the class!

EDIT: It's not in a neat table, and the times are in seconds, I know, but I'm about to fall asleep in spite of my best efforts, so please bear with me. I'll try to have everything finalised and prettied up tomorrow before I leave for work.
Done! ^__^ Colored names are safe until that race.

Race 2:

Pilot	Part 1	Part 2	Part 3	Part 4	Part 5	Avg
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund) [winner]	6:04.927	6:05.649	6:05.601	6:10.508	6:05.837	6:06.504
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest) [2nd]	6:06.032	6:11.730	6:06.922	6:06.144	6:05.926	6:07.351
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands)	6:06.732	6:06.684	6:09.626	6:08.752	6:06.637	6:07.686
09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	6:04.932	6:14.671	6:07.538	6:05.610	6:05.720	6:07.694
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	6:05.635	6:06.337	6:06.253	6:10.521	6:09.748	6:07.699
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	6:09.465	6:06.718	6:07.070	6:06.164	6:09.804	6:07.844
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	6:10.140	6:08.249	6:06.428	6:07.888	6:06.874	6:07.916
08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	6:07.556	6:08.592	6:05.739	6:09.142	6:10.354	6:08.277
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands)	6:07.893	6:06.270	6:09.337	6:10.857	6:07.309	6:08.333
00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	6:06.715	6:18.116	6:06.696	6:06.309	6:05.949	6:08.757
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	6:09.826	6:10.515	6:09.353	6:09.584	6:11.038	6:10.063
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	6:12.158	6:11.817	6:08.686	6:10.270	6:10.907	6:10.768
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	6:10.401	6:10.955	6:11.598	6:11.609	6:11.187	6:11.150
02 Sadne Marès (Lisander)	6:09.528	6:09.577	6:13.798	6:11.851	6:11.830	6:11.317
16 Madison Jones (Shayla)	6:11.065	6:11.873	6:15.553	6:11.375	6:12.908	6:12.555

Series Standings:

Standings:
Pilot	Points
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund)	57-
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands)	50^
08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	47-
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest)	46^
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	46^
00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	45v
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands)	43v
09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	41^
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	38^
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	35v
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	32-
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	30^
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	24v
16 Madison Jones (Shayla)	25E
02 Sadne Marès (Lisander)	21E

Edit: in which I muck up the standings... good thing I caught it so quickly...

Next race is Seabhcoir!

Silver Bay Herald, Internet Edition, published August 23rd, 2018.

Selkie-Pilots get up to speed

Leathchúpla reaches the finish line third, after Toscano and Derpol.

---

Jebsheim - The Emperor of Jebslund got a special gift for His birthday, with Derpol Kerman winning in the second NASJAR-Race at home in Jebsheim, with Armati Toscano from the Frozen Forest placing second, nearly a second behind Derpol, and Leathchúpla ranking third. Eitleoir became sixth, Piteog seventh, Ollmhór ninth.
Leathchúpla, when asked, commented, that he was thrilled to have ranked third and that he was lucky, for he had been 0.008 seconds faster then Weimar from the Frozen Forest. With his third place, Leathchúpla also catapulted himself up to the second place in the standings, coming from fourth, behind Derpol, three points in front of Acht from Jebslund.
A further comment was given by Eitleoir, the Selkies' problem-pilot, who now stands on twelth place in the standings: "I thank my mechanics for their excellent work and their patience with me. Took a while to get my arse into the air, now I only need to get faster!"
The fastest lap was flown by the winner Derpol Kerman, 6:04.927, with the second fastest by Dakov Weimar, 6:04.932. Fastest Selkie was Eitleoir with 6:06.164. The next race will be on the Seabhcóir Aerodrome Racefield on the 5th of Septembre.
Meanwhile, the investigation into the fuel leak of April Blaustein's plane in the Mianach continue. The investigators do not exclude sabotage, but were not available for further comments.
KIW, Peata.

---

"That's how ya do it!", the mechanic cheered and bumped fist with Raidri, the young man grinning widely. They were celebrating him, the best ranking Selkie in the current standings, with a real shot at overall-victory, and the Selkie with the currently best result in any individual race - if one ignored Ollmhór's second place in the qualifier. "Ya should have seen yourself up there, laddie! Like a falcon on the hunt!"
Raidri smirked.
He would lie, if he said, that he wasn't a fan of being celebrated. His family did every time he brough trophies home, his mechanics did, sometimes for even reaching the finishing goal. Positive marketing for Leathchúpla Airlines, that was the deal he had made with his parents.
But he didn't mind - he could pursue racing and that was the end of that.
He had to hand it to his competition, though, they were tough. Especially Derpol and Weimar.
"Then what was Derpol?", he asked with a grin, "An eagle?"
"Maybe.", the mechanic replied, handing him a glass of water - they would have to depart tonight for Seabhcóir. "But at the end of the day, they are good competition. I'm sure, that you'll win, Raidri!"
He wasn't so sure, but he grinned: "Me, too!" He raised his glass as if it was whiskey. "To winning this series!"
His mechanics cheered.

---

A few hangars down, another mechanic was celebrating with his pilot, Erblin and Sirlam sitting on one wing and the mechanic, still drunk from the exciting race, reenacted his favourite parts with his hands, as he had seen them from the ground.
Erblin let him, he was just as excited - seventh!
Not his best, admittedly, but he was continuing a good trend.
"And then you pulled up and...", Sirlam continued his retelling, suddenly seeing, that he didn't have enough hands and pausing.
Erblin interjected, adding his own hands, retelling: "...and then I was above him and suddenly remembered, that I had arms attached to my hands, which entwined with my boyfriend's arms and hands." He grinned and took Sirlam's hands, smiling as he leaned against the other man. "We did well today."
"You did."
"We. I'd only be half the pilot without you and your fantastic work.", Erblin corrected, looking deep into his boyfriend's eyes. There was worry. "Everything alright, Sirlam?"
"They keep talking about Blaustein's fuel tank - it might have been sabotage.", the mechanic said, "They are not sure yet, but that could have ended a lot differently, regardless... Rhiannon's teats, her kids were sitting on the tarmac!"
Erblin nodded. "That they were and it didn't.", he tried to calm his boyfriend down with firm words. "I heard, that the Seabhcóir Town Guard is posting additional people at the hangars to avoid such incidents."
"At least something..." Sirlam sighed. "I... I just don't want to loose you, Erblin."
"Sh...", the white-haired man made and put his finger onto his boyfriend's lips. "No more words of it. We have to celebrate!" He grinned. "After all, there's a gigantic birthday party out there!"
Sirlam snorted in amusement and the two went to get changed.

---

Silver Bay Herald, Internet Edition, published August 23rd, 2018.

Of Falcons and Vampires

The Town of Seabhcóir finishes the preparations for NASJAR-1's third race.

---

Seabhcóir - The Town of Falconers, Seabhcóir, prepares itself for the second race held in the Free Lands - after the venerable Mianach, the Seabhcóir Aerodrome Racefield, the oldest race field in the Free Lands, has been selected to host NASJAR-1's third race. And the town responded with the usual enthusiam for such events.
"We are fully prepared to house fans and crews coming for the Race.", the Mayor told the Silver Bay Herald, "We expect a fun three days, culminating on the third with the race itself, of what can rightfully be described as a festival." The Herald knows from reliable sources, that the Younger Militias of the Town and the outlying villages had been called upon to provide additional manpower and security in the form of Seabhcóir's famous Crossbow Gals and Falconers. When asked about that, the Mayor of the 5,977 citizens town replied, that they were preparing for an enourmous surge of visitors and wanted to have people at the ready should things turn bad.
Meanwhile, the last passenger plane departed Aerodrome to make way for the final preparations there. The contestants will share the skies over the Town of Falconers with their falcons, specifically trained and requested to hunt for drones intruding into the race's airspace, thus posing a threat to the racers (a complete ban of drones has already been spoken by the Town Administration).
For the festivities itself, many famous faces are expected to make an appearance, amongst them Caja Glór of the Tribe of Laois, who will not sing the anthem, despite the rumours, sportsman Leonard Lách of the Tribe of Galway, as well as the Envoy of Lodan Lir, Mona Beag of the Tribe of Louth. The honour of singing the anthem will fall to Mister Leonard Rualacha of the Tribe of Wicklow, a son of Seabhcóir himself.
PGF.

[The Frozen Forest]

Race Ends in Jebslund

It was over! The second NASJAR Race was over and the rankings were updated. The Frozen Forest was fortunate, its remaining pilots were safe from elimination for the time being and one, Armati Toscano was a serious contender for winning the overall competition. The planes were fueled and extra guards would be posted in Seabhcoir. If there was sabotage then it wouldn't happen again, at the very least it would narrow who could be responsible for such an act down to only those who could persuade or bribe the guards into looking the other way. Not that this prospect was on the minds of any of the three contenders.

Dakov Weimar had managed to race his way into forth place while in Jebslund. In the last Race he had managed to make it into second, coach wasn't happy. As he stood in his office the old man chewed him out rather..tastefully. "What the f*ck was that! Fourth place? What the actual f*ck Dakov! You know, after all those hours we spent training to get your times down to the wire, i could see you dropping into f*cking third, maybe. Two f*cking places though? Dakov this is a sh*t result, i might as well have spent all my time with you on Armati instead, god knows he can actually win this competition. What? Was it because you spent your time with that girl instead of resting for our next training session? You shouldn't date another f*cking racer anyways, she'll f*ck you over and leave your a*s right after this competition is over, and then what? You can enjoy your sixth or seventh place?"

"With all due respect, sir, Amy didn't affect my speed. I'm doing the best i can, and i can live with fourth."

"Well i'm glad you can, except i f*cking can't. You know what, Dakov, out of all the racers i have the highest expectations for you. We have two more races until people start getting knocked out consistently, that means if you don't shape up and do well you WILL be eliminated, do you f*cking understand?"

"Yes Sir." Dakov departed the office as the old man waved his hand to indicate he could leave. The whole altercation didn't affect him, at least emotionally. He wasn't a weak individual, he understood how important it was he get good results just to make his way up in the standings. He made his way across the hangar, noticing Armati sitting at a little metal table, enjoying some Jebslundian cuisine. They were leaving that night, shouldn't he be up at his hotel getting his stuff together? Dakov shook his head, Armati didn't notice.

Arriving in Seabhcoir

Armati looked out the window of his plane as they fell the runway to land in Seabhcoir. His mind wandered to the rankings. He was in fourth place, meaning that he was relatively safe from elimination once people began to get knocked out. In order to hold onto the safety he had to preform well for the next two races, the last of which would take place in his homeland. Losing on their own ground would be an incredible embarrassment to his family, one of the Noble Families of The Frozen Forest. He also knew that it was one of the toughest, if not the toughest Race the pilots would be facing. Its turbulence and cliff sides meant that it would be easy to crash and burn, so they would have to be careful to avoid an accident.

He had never practiced on that course, so perhaps he should have been looking forwards to his time in Seabhcoir, since it would be an easier race. He shook off the thought, just the idea of becoming anxious would hurt him in the long run. He had to be excited, that was the way he would put it, excited. He put the magazine he was reading into one of the compartments as the plane came to a stop. There would be a short wait until they could depart and he curiously peered at the other passengers. He had signed a few autographs on the plane, mainly because he was flying coach and not first-class. He was no better than the other people, why should he act like it? Besides, Coach did let him interact with the Race's fans.

He glanced at his phone just in time to see a short text from April. Apparently she was watching their race, she wished him goodluck and he shot back a text saying that he would do his best. He thought of the other pilots, not just April. Dakov seemed more preoccupied in the hangar than usual, either working on his plane or peering at The Freelands Pilots, particularly that one Actress. April had confirmed it in a prior conversation that the two were evidently dating, Dakov seemed happier if not a little more distracted. The two didn't speak often, they certainly didn't hang out. He was in on his own with April out of the race, she was a good friend. Arnbjorn was also preoccupied with a Selkie Pilot, that girl, Marla. He wondered what it was, two Frozen Forestrians hooking up with two Selkies, he didn't even find the two girls that attractive. He sighed as he pulled his luggage off the plane. Maybe he would find a local girl he could take out on a date.

Marla | A Date | Arnbjorn

The Hangar had become somewhat of a meeting spot for the two young people. The Frozen Forestrian Pilot with wild blond hair and the Selkie Pilot, also with blonde hair. They pair had met once prior in Jebslund have their last date, the first date had been sweet and the second more like candy than any naturally made sweet could ever taste like. He, the Frozen Forestrian had thus far shared the details of his date only to his fellow pilots, otherwise it was only speculation on part of the various paparazzi as to why he spent so much time around her. What would he even say to them? He had fallen in love, but that always sounded cheesy and fake and surely that would hurt his reputation back at home. People loved romance, but dating another pilot wouldn't improve his opportunities after the Race was over. Once one of them were eliminated, they could let the world know but until then, their time in the Hangar together would be the only intimacy they could share with one another.

Arnbjorn had come to the Seabhcoir Hangar early under the pretense of getting his station ready for when The McClark finally arrived. What Coach didn't know was that they had brought it to the Hangar that morning, so it was already waiting for him. He quickly retrieved two drinks from a cooler he had brought along as he waited for the sharp eyed girl. He felt his heart race, his breath catch in his throat as he thought about her. Her touch, it sent shockwaves through his body, he was paralyzed in feeling whenever she was with him. Kissing and cuddling and talking about the Races, about their families, about what they would do when the races were over. It was blissful, it was something he couldn't shake off.

"Howdy Pilgrim!" A feminine voice rang out from beside him. He turned to meet its origin just as she pulled herself onto the wing to sit beside him. Marla Eitleoir, with sky-blue eyes and a burning smile punched him in the shoulder. "Whats with that face?" He shook his head but a bright smile formed across his visage. "Its nothing, i was just thinking about you and Jebslund." He looked thoughtful for a minute before leaning over and kissing her. Despite her surprise, she leaned into the passionate exchange and felt her eyes fall shut as she enjoyed herself. After a long moment the two separated, evidently both of their hearts were racing. "Your getting better at that." She joked and he smiled.

"After this Race, we're going to The Frozen Forest. I was thinking that since there are a few days before the Race, we could stop by my hometown before catching the next flight out to the Race Against Winter Airfield. I want you to meet my family." The suggestion flew in the face of the previous arrangement, to keep their dating under wraps. "I'm thinking, Amy and Dakov didn't try to hide it and it seems like people just accepted it. I don't want to hide out in hangars anymore. Besides, my family has been bothering me about meeting you finally.

She seemed to think about it for a minute before nodding slowly. He popped open the drinks and handed her one. The two took a collective sip and she turned to straddle his lap much like they'd done on their first date. She leaned against him, throwing her arms over his shoulders and snuggling against his body. He had come to understand something since the two had become lovers. Marla didn't enjoy the vast amount of attention she got, mainly on part due to her acting career. He was constantly being attacked by just NASJAR fans, he understood her situation was twice as severe as his own, it was something that she couldn't escape from. He wondered how she had even managed to get around the fans often enough to meet him in the hangar. Maybe it wasn't so bad in her homeland, Amy was around as well so maybe she took away some of those potential stalkers and paparazzi. He thought about it, how she had cried into his shirt on his first date, they were happy tears but obviously they meant something. Ever since then he had wondered if it was because of the special treatment she always received.

"Come on." He scooped her up from his lap and she immediately clung tighter to him as he dropped to the ground below. She had burrowed against him, she was unaffected when he slammed into the ground. He carried her out of the hangar in a slow walk towards his car. She seemed to enjoy being carried and so he set her down inside earning a kiss on the cheek in the process. He decided not to ponder it as he got in the other side. "Where are we going?" She asked playfully, she hadn't expected whatever he had planned. Truth was, this was impromptu and not planned on his part. He turned the keys and pulled out of the hangar.

After a few minutes of driving and a blushing girl at his side they pulled into a small, obviously struggling theater. It was one of those places that might have once been very popular but had since fallen onto hard-times, for whatever reason. He noticed a old man working hard to change the poster on the left wall, right beside the booth where one could buy a ticket. As he and Marla got out of the car he finished and made his way to the ticket booth. The sign he had put up had a picture of a little girl in pink working clothes, in the background there were ghosts and houses. In big bold letters the sign read Miyazaki's Spirited Away. He had seen it before, but Marla didn't seem to have judging by the curious look on her face. He took her hand and guided her to the booth. He pulled out fifty Gils. "Two Tickets for Spirited Away. Go ahead and keep the change."

The Old man's face widened as he looked at the money. Tickets were only one Gil, charging more was preposterous. Arnbjorn knew that they would be the only people in the theater, there were no cars or people around, there was no harm in paying for a room for the two of them. He was feeling generous anyways. "Fifty Gils?" Marla seemed surprised herself at the exchange. He offered her a smile and she returned it. "You don't have to do this, we can go back to the Hangar."

"You want to be treated like a normal girl, right? Let me take you on a date that a normal girl would go on." Her face screwed up, she didn't seem to know what to say to that. The old man showed them to the theater room, he had been wrong. There was one other person in the room after the Movie began to play, the Old Man had come and taken a seat at the very front, whereas they sat in the way back. Arnbjorn guessed he knew there wouldn't be more customers for the rest of the day, he doubted that this was an uncommon occurrence.

He bought her popcorn and the normal movie-going things from a young child sitting behind the register. She seemed completely disinterested in the Movie, and he wondered where her parents were. Still she seemed to be in charge of concessions so he didn't question it any further as Marla got some popcorn. It was a big box that they both would have to share if they wanted to finish it before the movie was over. It was salty and buttery and overall not that bad, certainly there was worse theater food out there. He felt a hand on his and just like that they spent the movie holding hands and munching on popcorn.

When they reemerged from the Theater it was dark outside. The pair were eagerly talking about the movie and its main character, Chihiro, as well as No-Face, one of the spirits within the film. In the car they continued to talk, Marla seeming enthused about the Bathhouse in the movie, he being more interested in the Water-Spirit that had been polluted by trash. "How does it feel to be watching a movie instead of making one?" Her expression changed something more complex, he couldn't have described what she must have been feeling.

"I really enjoyed it. I've never had a real date like that." She admitted, seeming embarrassed about it. Her eyes refused to meet his and he felt a sudden desire to meet them, to garner their attention. He yearned for her embrace, the feeling of her palm on his. She did turn to rest her head against his shoulder, her blue eyes piercing his heart like a thousand daggers, spilling a boiling pot of hot emotion across his body. She looked up at him with tender eyes that brought about faint visions of the future. He had never dated someone like her, not just a girl w+ith eyes like that of the beautiful ocean, or a smile like shining pearls, but someone who understood him. She was more than a Actress to him, as he was more than a Pilot to her.

He had clarity as he turned left, rather than right. She didn't seem to notice that they weren't heading back to her apartment. He drove until eventually they came to a clearing on a hill. They got out of the car and her eyes seemed to ask him what they were doing there. He responded by pulling out a big, soft brown blanket from the back of his vehicle. He unfurled it and laid it on the ground, she reached the conclusion, what he wished to do for the night. "Lets not go back to your apartment tonight. The stars are beautiful tonight." it was warm too, they wouldn't have to worry about being cold. She walked over to the blanket, falling onto it and feeling it. He joined her and the pair laid down.

He felt her soft breathing and the warmth that radiated from his side. He glanced over to see that she was looking up at the night-sky, at the stars above. There were so many, even if the whole date had to be forgotten, no one could unsee such a beautiful thing. She would remember the sky and he would remember her gentle expression as she looked up at it. They were almost one in the same. They were both free, untamable but a wonder to look at. After what seemed like an hour of quiet stargazing, she turned to him. Her lips found his and their passions flared. Arnbjorn brought his hands to wrest on Marlas hips as he leaned over her, still locked in her embrace. Her left arm had circled around to pull him close.

They broke apart for air, Arnbjorn felt his heart drumming away in his chest. Fireworks were going off in his head, he felt as though nothing could ruin the moment. Marla had laid her head against his chest, listening to the rapid thumping of his heart as they once again watched the sky. Words didn't need to be said, it was obvious that both had a wonderful day together. Before long Marla fell asleep and Arnbjorn followed just after. Before the races the only thing that he really cared about doing was winning NASJAR. He wondered about Marla and their future, he felt a tenderness for her that he hadn't experienced before. The Race was a million miles away to him, for better or for worse. If Coach had found them, he would have been chewed out but he suddenly didn't care. He found himself dreaming of such a situation, simultaneously wishing it to never come about.

[The Selkie]

Town of Seabhcóir, Free Lands of the Selkie.
Let me be honest with you: This was turning into something very serious.
Ever since our date in Jebsheim, I knew, that there was something between me and Dakov, and to be honest, I like him. Very much. Love? Hm... that is a very good question. I knew, that it had the potential, and indeed was, turning into something very serious.
Our second date was in Seabhcóir, on the evening before the third race.
If everything went bad, it might be my last NASJAR Race.
I did not want to think about it as well.
The Town of Falconers had prettied itself up with intensity, was holding a fair and festival on the day of the race and the tourists were already there, watching the falconers of the town demonstrating their art and their birds, much like we would be demonstrating ours tomorrow. Mounted patrols of the Town Guard and the Younger Militia ensured, that everything went peacefully and was fun.
But still, that did not concern me... it was our second date.
In Jebsheim, I wore the pink sweater that I liked, and here, I contemplated wearing something foreign as well, but I almost had no other choice then to go with the Selkie-classic: Geansai. As a servant to Gavida, God of Arts and Crafts, I was allowed to wear His Colours instead of the Tribe of Dundalk's and tonight, I did – although one has to add, that the Colours of Abhcan were the natural colours of the fur.
So, here I stood.
The female Geansai emphasizes the woman's figure more then the male one, was more sparing with the materials. It began with the feet, the Bróg, a sole of hard leather bound to the foot by three strings, spanning the instep, around the heel and one connecting the space between the big toe and its neighbour to the strip spanning the instep. A cloth was fitted under the strip around the heel, a colourful one as well.
Above that came nothing for a while, then the skirt, knee-long on the right, barely covering the hips on the left. The heavy utility belt holding it up had a few pouches on it, carrying important bits and pieces, amongst them my purse.
The stomach was free before the holder came. The holder, which held the 'argumentation amplifiers', so to speak, a band of fur running around the chest and holding it – and with me, there was much to hold. Hold. Anyway, there were straps on the back, which held it together, which were covered by the sleeves.
The sleeves, or cape, depending on who you asked, were a short, cloak-like piece of fur reaching down to the middle of the back, enhanced in its function by woolen sleeves covering the shoulders. The thing was held in place by a series of straps over the collarbone, the collar itself fur-lined.
I also wore the gauntlets, a rind of fur around the wrists.
One could believe, that I would stick like a sore thumb in that attire, but quite on the contrary, I didn't. Many Selkie were wearing their tribal costume to the festivities, and many foreigners were shooting pictures for the holiday albums.
I knew, that Dakov would look at me like I was a broken car, once he saw me.
But anyway, we had our second date and I had picked a location for it, an inn by the name of Aerluas, not too far away from our meeting point. I even got them to reserve a private room, thanks to excellent contacts I had.
Anyway, I sat by a fountain in the marketplace of Seabhcóir, waiting for him to arrive while I looked at the people passing by. And there was suddenly a very familiar voice: “Sorry to keep you...”
He trailed off as I turned to him, stood up as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I had taken the sweater in Jebsheim, because I wanted him to see me as a person first and because it was less attention-drawing, and I had succeeded, but here... these were my home grounds and I could be brave here.
“It's no problem.”, I replied with a smile, walking up to Dakov... and noting, that he had a hand behind his back. His eyes looked not like he was pulling the little remaining fur on me off with them, but his eyes looked like he was imagining me and him and our future. I liked that more, to be honest.
My voice seemed to snap him back to the present.
“Right.”, he said and then brought his hand forward, holding... a feather. And not just any old feather, but a black and white one. I recognized it immediately. “The woman at the shop said, that this was the feather of a Red Robin. She also said...”
He didn't get any further.
Amongst foreigners, I knew and saw in his eyes, it was an unfamiliar gesture and while Selkie-Women did like flowers, feathers of different birds had different meaning.
And the Red Robin's meant adoration.
I covered my lips with his, a tender, almost shy kiss, not lasting for very long.
“Whatever she said, she was correct.”, I finished Dakov's sentence. He smiled as I took the feather and the small clip attached to it and placed it in my white hair, letting it fall to cover the clip. I looked at Dakov.
“It suits you.”, he said and then offered his arm to link: “Shall we?”
I linked my arm with his and we were off. That was the point, that I saw, that he wore a white shirt and dark pants, a jacket over his arm. It was not exactly Black Tie, but it would suffice for the inn's dress code.
He also looked very dashing.
We drew the odd look, but nothing and no one impeded our walk through the early evening, especially no fans. My last memorable encounter in Jebsheim was still a bit on my mind, but the owner had apologized to us, so I was willing to both forgive and to recommend the restaurant further.
Of course, we didn't talk about that. We chatted about this and that, about him having problems and asking me for advice, about the races and the other racers – I told him about Sirlam and Erblin being an item, which seemed to surprise him, although not in the negative way – and about the world around us...
...before we finally arrived.
The Aerluas Inn, like many of the houses in the Free Lands, was a half-timbered structure of three storeys, a combined hotel, restaurant and many other functions, built in a square around an inner courtyard. Stables and garages were in one wing, the rest of the building served customers.
Such as us.
The gate guard let us through with a firm nod, then we went inside and immediately got stopped in the foyer by a waitress, redirecting us towards... a room. Not a private eating room, as I had requested, but a room.
She apologized time and time again as there had been a mistake in the bookings and that this was our compensation... well, we had a nice view over the town and its roofs, so it kind of made up for it.
The Aerluas Inn was known as one of the best inns in the Trossach and far more expensive then the houses we were placed in for the duration of the race. It was clear, that they had redecorated a bit, the room we came in was the living room, the table replaced by a higher one by the window with two chairs and a few candles on it, while two doors went off to either side. Bathroom and bedroom, I'd bet.
We quickly ordered drinks and food and then were left to our own devices.
Silence for a moment.
Then we both took in air, looking at each other – and the air leaving us in laughs.
“Your homeland is beautiful, Amy.”, Dakov said and made me smile. “I flew a few test laps earlier and I saw rolling hills and meadows and little streams... no wonder, that Selkie in the Frozen Forest felt right at home.”
I smiled and blushed. “I'm actually not from here but from Shella. That's an island halfway between the Archipelago and the Mainland.”, I told him, “More specifically, I'm from the Town of Shella, the Town in the Cliffs. The entire town is build into the cliff above a small, natural harbour, narrow paths and small houses included.”
“Sounds lovely.”, Dakov said with a smile.
I hummed in agreement. “I must admit, though, that I am a bit biased. Where in the Frozen Forest are you from?”
And that got Dakov rolling, telling me about his home in vibrant colours, I could almost see it in front of my eyes, that was how vivid his description was – I definitely hung on his lips, his every word.
He could describe very well.
He made a small pause, when the drinks came, but that didn't stop him and from that point, until the dinner arrived, we were talking about... the Gods Themselves might know. Pranks we played as kids, stories from flight school, the weirdest planes we ever flew... it was wonderful.
As was the dinner, although we almost forgot to eat.
But still, when we were finished, we were spent... and still continued to talk well into the evening before the waitress came in to inform us about the last round being called.
We saw it, quite correctly, as the signal to go, that the inn was closing for the night, and that we should go. We did, but we also left a hearty tip, compliments to the chefs and everything.
We left shortly after and I smiled.
For a short moment, we contemplated the thought of walking the length and breadth of the fair, but we didn't – we had to get out early tomorrow. Dakov still insisted on seeing me to the inn I stayed in with the other Selkie-Pilots, cordoned off by the Town Guards.
We stood in front of it and... I was at a loss for words. Looking up to Dakov, I could not speak.
“It was a wonderful evening, Amy.”, he told me, his arm around my waist. I could see in his eyes, that he meant it. He also didn't want this evening to end. Thoughts of the two of us being competitors around the same time tomorrow were not in his head. “I love talking with you and spending time with you. I... I am not sure, but I...”
“Sh...”, I made, putting my finger onto his lip. I knew, what he wanted to say. “I feel similar. I would love to continue to explore that feeling together with you, Dakov. I love spending time with you as well.”
I got brave.
Maybe it was the liquid bravery, read the alcohol, inside of me, that spurred me into doing this, but I rose onto my toes and brought my lips onto his. This time, there was a bit of tongue, not much, but enough to make this peck into a kiss.
It ended all too soon.
I stood there for a moment, my face slightly red tinged, then turned towards the inn.
“See you tomorrow.”, I said to the dumbstruck young man.
We would see each other tomorrow, fighting for a trophy and pretending, that we were not in love, despite being open about dating.
But such was life.
He did not tell me about his trainer and him being chewed out because of me.

[Jebslund]

Sternenjäger Kerman
[Note: Standard language note]

Flora was almost certain she'd become the new bogeyman for the cows below by now.

It had been fairly difficult to get permission to run as many test laps as she was planning. Between other pilots getting theirs in (the official in charge of that had almost fainted when the two lifers had asked to do their laps at the same time) and her... reputation... she'd had to break it up into sessions, and, even then, she hadn't been able to get as many as she wanted due to her maintenance crew wanting to actually have time to work on her jet and her to get some sleep. But those were later's problems. For now, the racer was flying her dozenth practice lap of the day, and planned to keep flying more laps until she could fly the course in her sleep.

And forget about the beautiful actress she was sure was with that Forest pilot at that very moment.

It burned her up just thinking about him, and her ground crew was already in the habit of not talking about him around her. Or the fact that both lifers were once more ahead of her in both standings and previous race performance. Granted, the two had grown up in Jebsheim, and there was no doubt Derpol had flown the course many times before, but it was still irritating to be shown up by them, particularly by such a wide margin. She was supposed to be beating them, not highlighting the difference in skill and experience! And what the hell was with that Forest pilot making a move first? Was Flora a Kerbal or a smeerp? Such and worse were the pilot's thoughts as she redlined her aircraft, pushing her for every bit of speed she could manage as if she could outrun the frustration the NASJAR series had brought her so far.

"Eyes forward, pilot! You trying to land on the cows?!"

The shout brought her back to the present just in time to avoid slamming into the ground. Lucky for her the ground crew was watching her instruments and transponder. She wouldn't have that luxury during the race proper, so she'd need to keep her mind on the race. As Flora apologised to her crew chief, she silently promised herself she'd do her best to make the next races count. If she couldn't close with Derpol, next best thing would be to snag second, or at least higher than Die Achte.

And she definitely would not be letting that pilot beat her in the air, even if he'd already left her crashed and burning on the ground in the race for Amy's affections.



Two rivals enjoying the festivities

Bar-hopping. A time-honored Kermanic tradition, as well as a good way to look up old friends, and Die Achte, Derpol tagging along with him, had one such friend in mind as he went from pub to pub, stopping along the way to watch the falconers and take part in the various festivities. Commander Finnegan Cailpís, who he'd flown against in a war game in '50, was the name of the Selkie he was hoping to bump into, mainly to reminisce and possibly catch up. Hopefully over a few beers. Or whiskeys, as seemed to be the local drink of choice, and what kind of tourist would the two old Wasserarmee buddies be if they didn't sample the local fare, right?

[Jebslund]

It's that time again!

Pilot	Part 1	Part 2	Part 3	Part 4	Part 5	Avg
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund)[WINNER]	14:57.433	14:55.955	14:57.841	14:55.578	14:55.570	14:56.475
08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)[second]	14:57.708	14:57.548	14:56.355	14:56.236	14:55.920	14:56.753
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)[third]	14:58.623	14:56.963	14:56.468	14:57.134	14:57.996	14:57.437
00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	14:57.169	14:59.589	14:57.521	14:55.980	14:57.106	14:57.473
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest)	14:57.069	14:56.586	14:59.252	14:57.845	14:56.692	14:57.489
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	14:58.360	14:57.906	14:58.366	14:56.774	14:56.762	14:57.634
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	14:56.614	14:56.208	14:56.405	15:05.308	14:57.615	14:58.430
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands)	15:01.212	14:56.753	15:47.279	14:59.271	14:57.774	14:58.458
09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	15:01.160	15:01.347	14:56.385	14:59.771	14:58.355	14:59.404
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands)	15:01.401	14:58.563	15:00.414	15:01.398	14:57.312	14:59.818
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	14:59.856	15:00.461	14:59.214	14:59.189	15:04.317	15:00.607
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	14:59.903	15:00.419	15:00.194	15:03.246	15:00.176	15:00.788
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	15:02.172	15:01.803	15:02.329	15:05.032	15:01.577	15:02.583

Standings will be posted tomorrow. It's late and, if all goes well, I have an early day ahead of me tomorrow.
Standings and times are finalized! Unless I fucked up somewhere...

Standings:
Pilot	Points
13 Derpol Kerman (Jebslund)	77-
08 Die Achte Kerman (Jebslund)	66^
10 Armati Toscano (Frozen Forest)	62^
00 Sternenjäger Kerman (Jebslund)	62^
11 Arnbjorn Hjolfson (Frozen Forest)	61-
41 Raidri Leathchúpla (Free Lands)	61v
07 Erblin Piteog (Free Lands)	56^
42 Amy Ollmhór (Free Lands)	56v
09 Dakov Weimar (Frozen Forest)	53v
03 Salo Marès (Lisander)	45-
14 Marla Eitleoir (Free Lands)	44^
98 Nathan Maconson (Northwest Kalactin)	41v
54 James McNeil (Northwest Kalactin)	32E

What's this I hear about a saboteur?
Denotes pilot advancing to the Chase.

Next race is against winter!
...
...
...
...
...er, A Race Against Winter.