<strong>Race Round Two!</strong><br/><br/>The audience has certainly not failed to notice the displays from Nuria and Phelypsis!  When Nuria rips off the remainder of her clothes, a shout of intense appreciation comes from the crowd, whooping and hollering of all kinds, men and women alike.  Barnus's heavy laugh can be heard above the rest and inside Ayca giggles aloud and calls to anyone interested in a view, "Looks like Phel and Nuria both decided to go a bit more aerodynamic."<br/><br/>The racers, of course, have little time for such frivolities as bared flesh.  Or rather, they should.  The gnomish bard spinning in his shell catches sight of Nuria skating past and uses his feet dangling off the edge of the shell to right himself and slide down after her.  He calls out cheerfully in the garbled speech of drunken gnomes, "Cume on buck 'ere yu foine luss!  Oi've sumet'ing fur yu to sit on!"  He reaches down and makes a lewd gesture cupping the front of his pants, once again losing control of his shell and going back into a spin, holding onto his ale for dear life.<br/><br/>The draconian's process has essentially ceased.  He didn't pick an old, worn down shell, but rather the shiniest newest one he could find.  This, combined with the weight of six and a half feet of scaled beastie, is just not getting through the mud.  Using his hands, he pushes himself along, but it's really not getting anywhere at all.<br/><br/>As Nuria passes the elvish gentleman, he leans forward harder, his face nearly touching the mud.  One of his eyebrows raises as she makes her way quickly past and he notes her standing position.  With swift, delicate movement, he pushes himself up onto his feet in one motion, bending his knees and leaning forward to propel himself along.  It seems, like many elves, he just can't let someone else be more graceful than he is.<br/><br/>Riset had the lead (and may still), but he's not moving forward with nearly the speed that he had before.  After all, he's got two big distractions behind him that are drawing his attention.  "Uh- Gods above" he all but gasps out, his eyes widening at the sight of Phelypsis attempting to cover her full, bare breasts.  He shifts in his seat in the shell trying to find a way to propel himself forward while simultaneously staring at her, but he's lost much of his initial momentum.  If there's a good time for Phelypsis (or Nuria!) to pull ahead of him, it is now.<br/><br/><div class="codeheader">Code: <a class="codeoperation" href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">Riset:       |----5----1*----xx    xx| +4<br/>Elvish Gent: |----*----10--- xx    xx| +8<br/>Gnome:       |---*5--  xx    xx    xx| +3<br/>Draconian:   |---*5-   xx    xx    xx| +2<br/>Phelypsis:   |----5--* xx    xx    xx| +?<br/>Nuria:       |----5--* xx    xx    xx| +?</code></pre>