RP:Basketbrawl
Part of the Agitation Arc
Summary: Hudson, Ansel, and Sargaso meet up in Xalious and shoot some ball against three mages (hardly a fair match). Early on, Hudson lets slip Ansel and Josleen's relationship. During the game, one of the mages starts mouthing off and speaking ill of Josleen, which raises Ansel's hackles and fists. A brawl breaks out, three on three (still not a fair match). The boys win and send the mages packing, all the while remaining oblivious to the fact that these three mages are the same who have perpetrated the events in Xalious. Hudson leaves with a scrap of evidence as to their identity, however. The half-drow magically enhanced his own strength and punched Hudson in the jaw so hard that the mage's ring engraved its symbol into Hudson's swollen mug.
Xalious Park
Naturally Hudson is on scene first, Cleo nosing about nearby. What's the point of a thoroughbred if you don't ride her hard and fast enough to beat your roommate to routine man-events such as these? It must be done. He'd brought a ball, and, after taking a few tentative dribbles about the court and a few three-pointer shots to warm up, goes about making casual conversation with three men who are doing drills by themselves. They size Hudson up - he's a big guy, after all - and he likewise sizes them up. This appraisal process aside, they're like dogs at a dog park. Itching to play, just add two more - that would be Ansel and Sargaso. Huds tells the guys he's got two friends coming, would they be down for a little 3 on 3? But of course, mate. Fist pounds all around. "Hope you're ready to get humiliated," says one of the guys, and Huds pretends to not hear. There is always a talker, at any pickup game. A guy who runs his mouth, because he's bad on the court. Huds sinks a three and blows on his knuckles. The eye-hand coordination's there, kickball season had just ended, after all. "Bring it," he says, catching the ball on his foot and kicking it up as it rolls back toward him.
What else was there to do but blow off some steam? The whole incident with Josleen almost getting killed had him frustrated and wound up. Coming upon the court, Hudson is the first one he sees – Sargaso not noticed yet. The man moves over to the taller one who was near the three other men. Ansel was tall, but Hudson was taller. Ansel raised his brows to the talker at a distance. He was not noticed by Hudson yet. Though as Hudson sinks the shot, the wolf comes from behind and slaps the man on the back. “Oof, fire, man,” he grins. He then backs slowly to the side and moves in. The man would clap his hands twice and open them out towards Huds to say that he was ready for a pass. Once the ball was given, the man would bend his knees, angle up, and follow through. Clunk, chink. Off the backboard and into the basket. “Yeahhh,” he drags this out and sort of bobs his head in a little victory dance. He was ready, very ready.
Sargaso keeps everyone waiting another ten minutes. The irritated, commiserating look he gives Hudson as he joins the court says it all: Crazy Amy. Sargaso's jealous, possessive, likely arsonist girlfriend gave him an earful. He had to bang her calm, left Cenril late. He lifts his chin towards Hudson in greeting, and addresses Ansel, the more estranged friend. "Long time, man. Heard you got all wrapped up in some broad." Cue man handshake and forearm-bump. The fisherman makes a point to ignore the two elf and half drow mages. He wasn't here for the initial posturing of the respective bro packs, and has to let everyone know who his pack is through neglect of the other. My pack, more mass than the earth; your pack, half-staff, it needs works. My pack, been there done that; your pack sits with a dunce cap. (It's time we let the world know. Dude, you gotta let your girl go. The pack is the best in the business. P.S. we got [censored] like jesus.) Sargaso is the shortest of his pack and presumed point guard. They don't need to iron out these details. The more they operate as a well-oiled team, the better for the pack's collective ego. He signals for Ansel to pass him the ball so he can warm up, and after he takes his first practice shot (rims the hoop but falls the wrong way), the mages join them on the court. In the catalog of basketball stereotypes, Sargaso is the one who shouts his teammates name before passing the ball and assumes a captain-like role and directs the thing with a word here or there. He isn't talking the whole time, but just enough to be That Guy Who Cares Too Hard. (Not unlike that time they were on a boat and going fast and.) The mages also act like a well-oiled team. The half drow talks a big game but misses every shot he takes (which is often because he is also selfish and rarely passes the ball). Despite the size difference, he shadows Hudson and tries to foul him twice in the first five minutes of the game. He's an aggressive little worm. Hudson can handle himself. Sargaso contends with the blue-eyed elf and Ansel with the green-eyed. The fisherman gets the ball in probably half as many times as Hudson. He isn't really a baller, but he's quick and light on his feet. He passes the ball to Hudson or Ansel whenever there's an opening, like a competent point guard.
Hudson rolls his shoulder as Ansel claps him on the back. "Yoooo," he says, nodding at their would-be opponents, as if to say, I told you my bros were coming. Stay cool. He passes the ball to Ansel and lets the wolfman do his thing. Now that Ansel's here, they can manage a layup drill, so they keep themselves occupied, shooting furtive glances at their opponents - who are doing the same - until Sargaso shows up. Hudson has a feeling that the big elf on their team's going to be on him - turns out he's wrong - but he keeps a close eye during this warm up period. As Sargaso arrives and intimates reasons for his lateness, Huds does the old touch his tongue to his molar maneuver to hide a smirk. The mages are scoping out Sargaso, have already identified him as likely point guard. They overhear a comment that Huds piles on in response to Sargaso's ribbing of Ansel. "Our lady Josleen of the generous ASSets," he comments, taking a shot from the free throw line. "I gave her a ride the other day to the Eyrie. She seemed pretty loved up to me," he discloses casually, as he catches the ball on its way back and brings an arm up to make the universal sign for 'let's wrap it up.' The game commences. Hudson has done himself a disservice by shooting threes in front of the mages -- this tenacious bugger, the half-drow guy, is all over him like a needy girlfriend. Has no qualms about putting his hands in Huds' space, making the general gameplan of dribble + Ansel for the pick to free up Huds + Huds for three a total bust after the first couple of times they do it. Hudson takes the path of characterizing this repeated fouling as gay touchings. "Keep your hands to yourself, mate. You're worse than my girlfriend, and I don't swing that way," he tells the half-drow, who spits in response. Under siege, Hudson's utility becomes more of a rebounder than point-scorer, and he relies on Ansel and Sargaso, both of whom are faster than he is, for the fast break opportunities. Even so, his patience is getting worn down, as he gets fouled like every play, and his guy's teammates always claim they 'didn't see' the play or that it was 'clearly' not a foul. For the sake of peace, Huds leaves it more than he'd like to. He has a certain amount of pity for Ansel, who's being guarded by the Guy Who Smack Talks Incessantly, and has been getting sort of graphic. Huds relishes an aggressive pick that he sets against that guy, which opens up an easy layup for Ansel and sends the green-eyed elf sprawling to the ground. "Sorry mate," says Huds, giving him a hand up. His half-drow man spits.
Ansel cool? Please. What was cool? He now is passing the ball from the key of the court to Hudson for layups, catching his rebound, and passing the ball back to him for the rotation. As Sargaso eventually shows up, the man dribbles idly before holding the ball in place. “Ah, always giving me sh*t, I see.” He then shoves the ball roughly into the Sargaso’s gut with a grin before moving onward and automatically giving a glare towards Hudson. “Ha, ha,” so the game begins. Ansel plays the whole post and side-wing position, giving a few roll offs and open arms from time to time. “Here, here, here,” Ansel is only really good at hovering over a man for a layup. He shows no mercy and just follows through, leaving the big talker on the ground from time to time So Ansel played rough. What can you say? Part wolf. Aggressive. However, when it comes to pressure on the outside, Ansel gets panicked and misses shots due to horrible slop form. Nobody is perfect. So instead of causing the other team to gain, Ansel pretends to shoot up and then tricks his opponent as he passes the ball back to the open Sargaso to make a quick move. "Oh, whattya gonna do?" He would shrug dramatically at his defender and then continuing running about the court.
Sargaso eyes the way Ansel raises everyone's hackles including the wolf's own. Damn lycans - not that Sargaso knows Ansel is a werewolf. His clan mate keeps that on the down low, along with the fact he's a butt guy. Sargaso raises his brows at Hudson. He had Ansel pegged as a boob guy. Learn something new every day. The fisherman isn't the only one learning today either, as is evidenced by the shocked looks shared among the opposition. The trio of mages know of Josleen as their guild mate's wife, and senior guild mate's daughter. Record scratch, whaaaat? The elf covering Sargaso is less vocal than the other two, but isn't afraid to get physical. As Ansel shoves around his teammate, the elf takes it as a sign that everyone here is down to brawl and liberally fouls Sargaso who manages to stay on his feet due to cat-like reflexes alone. Mages aren't eunuchs and this trio is young; a no-weapons brawl appeals to them too. Sargaso catches the ball from Ansel, steps around his opponent, and scores a three-pointer just as the guy Ansel sassed barks back, "See how cocky you are when I got Josleen bent over a desk, screaming my name." The half drow on Hudson laughs and adds as he catches the rebound, "Hope you don't mind my sloppy seconds." Sargaso immediately balls his hands into fists and looks to Ansel. He won't initiate a fight in Josleen's honor - doesn't even know this chick - but he untuits that he may have to back-up the ill-tempered lycan in a hot second. Lycan's choice.
Hudson is the big and slow guy who sweats. That's what he is doing for this round of posts. Playing his heart out and sweating a line down the front of his shirt roughly corresponding to the way in which he wipes his face. He realizes, as Ansel's defender gets a bit mouthy, that he may have suffered a bit too much Sports Enthusiasm earlier and spilled the beans on an Important Secret that has now gone outside the Man Privilege to these random mages who are not being cool. They suck at basketball, too. The men are up by ten, and these guys are playing dirty. Huds is quick to throw water on the fire/clean up his mess: "Hey, why don't you watch your mouths, Josleen's a friend and it's fine for us to joke about her being hot, but you're taking it a bit far mates. Put up on the court or shut up," he says, jogging back to anticipate the mage's offense. "Just like I took it with your mom, buddy," replies Mr Big Mouth. Hudson's response to this is a strong eyeball and a bitter snort-laugh. He is immune to Mom Jokes at this point in his life but is this guy for real. These jokers are overcompensating for something, KEEP CALM AND CRUSH THEM, says the heated look Huds throws his mates. The moment passes. Play ball, gents. It's dead silent after that, though the game's gotten even rougher, making conflict more of a foregone conclusion at this point. Hudson goes sprawling, as he's taken out when he tries to drive in to the net. "That was Definitely a foul," he comments as he draws himself upright, to the sneering of his half-drow opponent. He's not even sure why he's still trying to pretend this game isn't a fight waiting to break out (somebody's got to, he guesses). "Don't even play, it was, straight up a foul." He gestures at his men for support. "If you can't take it..." begins the man guarding Sargaso, who frankly has been mercifully silent but Not So Mercifully emanating the worst body odor known to Hollow. "Dude it's not about taking it so much as playing a clean game, which you guys are clearly unable to do," comments Huds, making the only profane hand gesture worth making. "All this talk about a clean game from the guys who know Josleen," snickers Mr Big Mouth. "Are the three of you guys friends with her at the same time, or one after the other?"
Ansel brings in his elbow and balls up a fist at Sargaso’s victory shot. However, the comment that pokes Ansel in the wrong place, has the man flashing a heated look the man’s way. So… Ansel is now moving forward towards the man as if to start up a brawl. “What did you just say?” Fists are tightening, and then, Hudson steps in, and the wolf steps back. Beat them at the game… Beat them at the game. Don’t lose your temper. The joke of a game begins again, and this time big mouth is whispering snarky comments to the man running back and forth trying to pay attention to Hudson. Sissy… Pretty boy... “Shut the hell up, dude,” he halts in place and eye brows narrow, and that is by the time Hudson scrambles. Ansel agrees that the men are playing too roughly. “Yeah, chill,” he adds. However, big mouth is no help – again. Ansel glances from Hudson to Sargaso… What they would expect to be a lash out, does not happen quite yet. The man walks a few steps closer to big mouth with a collected expression, two seconds later he is pulling his arm back and throwing a fist at the man’s jaw-line, watching the man scramble backwards. Now Ansel looks agitated, brows furrowed, collected gaze gone. Of course, this might create other chaos because the other two men have big mouth’s back, so they might swing or kick or whatever they do to fight, who knows. Poor Sargaso getting Stinky Pete over there – gross.
Sargaso is content to let Ansel and Big Mouth settle their differences with blows as he and Hudson keep watch to ensure none of the mages fight dirty. However, the elf covering Sargaso, Stinky Pete, has been itching for any excuse to fight which Ansel just provided. Stinky Pete evolves like a pokemon into Roid Rage. Since when are elf mages so physically violent? Sargaso doesn't have time to ponder this as the elf sends an amateur kick towards his chest. Yes, a kick... like a gods damn girl. Worse, like Crazy Amy, the last woman (but not only woman) to try and kick him. Come to think of it, this elf looks like an emaciated version of Crazy Amy. (Quick Question, mostly for Hudson: Bro, do you think Crazy Amy is crazy enough to pay an illusionist to disguise herself as a male elf so she can check up on me in Xalious? Yes, right? Classic Crazy Amy, right?) Unlike Crazy Amy, this elf has done more fighting in his head than in person; the kick is slow and ankle easily grabbed. The fisherman yanks on the foot with the same fluidity and strength that he pulls on ropes when sailing. Roid Rage lands hard on his back, gets winded, smacks his head on the court floor. Sargaso stands ready for retaliation, but doesn't follow-up his attack. Wouldn't want to accidentally kill a man today. Roid Rage doesn't let the sea-man off the hook. He gets on his feet and charges at Sargaso to grapple him. The men wrestle and Sargaso spends too much time (read: any time) in the elf's foul armpit. The half drow near Hudson is the first to break the unspoken fists-only rule of a man brawl. He punches Hudson with magically enhanced strength. Jaw-fracturing strength if it lands a direct hit. Glanced off blows will bruise badly, but not fracture bones. It's clear by the drow's creepy whispering that he is casting a spell. As for Big Mouth, he circles Ansel like a boxer, fists up, still mouthing off as he looks for an opening. "You call that a punch? No wonder she begs me for it." He jabs at Ansel's face with the final word. He wields his insults like a secondary weapon meant to provoke his opponent's rage, make Ansel more vulnerable to blows.
Hudson is ready to clock Big Mouth himself - hey, that's the mother of his talking ficus tree - but Ansel looks keen on handling the situation. Hudson hopes to block the other mages from jumping in with his big wingspan, but fails utterly when Stinky Pete/Roid Rage jumps Sargaso. (Crazy Amy is crazy enough to go undercover, but would not smell the way Stinky Pete smells. Crazy Amy probably has had her body enchanted to smell permanently like the Hollow equivalent of that one perfume that smells like sugar.) Hudson gapes, for a second too long, because he gets slugged in the jaw. It's not direct; he had a second to turn his face, but that's about it. That'll look nice. There's a mark left by the guy's ring, an insignia, imprinted on his cheek. Huds reels back with the force of the impact. He had, up until this point, been having All The Racist Thoughts about that guy, but now they can no longer be contained for politeness' sake. Hudson unleashes a torrent of derogatory, anti-drow comments and charges the guy, head down, in a reenactment of the infamous Zinedine Zidane headbutt.(FN) No spell casting 4u. That guy falls flat, knocking his head on the pavement. He's out cold, and his spell bounces off the backboard and scores. 2 points! It makes a nasty fizzling sound when it hits the ground. Hudson, after verifying that he's sufficiently beast-moded that mofo, shakes his sweaty hair like a dog shaking itself out of the pool. Sargaso's plainly got his situation on lock, and Huds has plenty of faith in his roommmate. So he goes to help Ansel and grabs Big Mouth from behind, twisting and pinning his arms behind his back. The guy writhes in Huds' grasp, so there's some effort involved in holding him. "Steady, steady, we're just having a cuddle here," says Huds to the guy, grunting under the effort of restraining him. "All yours, mate," he says to Ansel, his face turned away as he braces for impact.
(FN) https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/dd/7c/d6/dd7cd6d88f73e89c402a8f5653cb89d4.gif for ref.
Ansel is livid, he waits for the man to scramble to a steady position. The words that spit out of his mouth itch at him and the jab hits him directly in the nose. Ansel stumbles and lifts his chin up for a moment. His nose is beginning to slowly ooze, but this does not stop the man. One lucky punch? Who cares? The words were obviously a fault for Ansel, but the man will not give up. Soon enough, he is charging forward, but Hudson has already got the man from behind. The man grins, blood dripping to his lips now, and he gives a nod towards Big Mouth before grasping the collar of the man, kneeing him up in the gut, and throwing a quick blow to the man’s jaw-line again. “At least I’m getting action. Guys like you are why girls turn over,” the man is satisfied and he releases the man’s collar. He lifts up his hands and backs off for the meantime, calling it quits with Big Mouth. Then again, who knew what could happen.
Sargaso takes one punch to the cheekbone but hardly feels it. Sure, it may bruise a bit, but nothing more. These mages are wimps. This is hardly a fair fight. The fisherman's own punch cracks audibly against the mage's ribs. The pain loosens Stinky Pete’s grip just enough for Sargaso to wrench himself free. The elf starts to rise, but Sargaso kicks the side of his knees just hard enough to floor him again, but not hard enough to cripple him. He isn’t here to maim, yo. “Stay down,” he barks at the mage. His eyes are wild with hate and disbelief. Are these idiots for real right now? The mage hesitates, then starts to rise a second time and the paladin says “Tsst!” ala the Dog Whisperer. The mage flattens onto his back and submits. Beta bitches, man. Beta. Bitches. Sargaso is so sure of his opponent’s complete surrender that he has no qualms about giving the mage his back and approaching his bros. He crosses his arms and waits for Ansel to finish defending his girl’s honor. Behind him, Stinky Pete devolves into Sniveling Pete. Sargaso gives a wide-eyed look over his shoulder at this bitch who is seriously crying right now. “Get over here and get your pals the f%$# off our court.” Sniveling Pete slowly blinks and rises. He — I’m not kidding you guys right now, this is really happening — comes to fetch his bros. The two elves drag the unconscious half drow away. Sargaso blinks his disbelief to Hudson. He leaves Ansel alone. That guy is a time bomb, understandably. Let him cool off.
Hudson, after holding Mr Big Mouth for the blow from Ansel, releases him with more force than is required. He wobbles, like a colt finding his legs, toward Stinky Pete-Roid Rage-Sniveling Pete. Huds likewise wide-eyed stares at the waterworks happening, though he reaches to tap Ansel's arm (let's go, bro) as he turns toward Sargaso, exchanging a silent look of smugness that's like yeaaAAAAA BOY. This look cannot be otherwise translated into text. Hudson feels the tenderness in his jaw. Welp, Alvina's going to flip, but she should see the other guys. "Rolled," says Huds, simply, tucking the ball under his arm as the three men turn toward home, or their respective taverns. And in that moment of quiet victory, who should catch up with them but Crazy Amy. Crazy Amy with her daisy dukes and eff-me-pumps and illusionist-enhanced-boob-job and semi-transparent white tee and lack of a bra and perfect hair with the feminine swoop in the front that probably took an hour to perfect and way of talking that's like a run on sentence that never ends, but when it does, it ends in a question and with the word "baby". She's on Sargaso like, literally on him. It's undignified and great. "Oh, the way you kicked that guy's--" she leans in to whisper the rest, which cannot be reproduced here. Hudson clears his throat. He's just a man, so after staring at her like you stare at a car wreck, he rather calmly elbows Ansel off the path. Couldn't pay him to third wheel right now. He'll tag along straight to Josleen's, thank you very much.
Ansel looks at the three men and crinkles his nose before cringing. The man would then lift the back of his palm to his nose before lowering it back down to only notice the blood. He scrunches his face a few times trying to feel out the throbbing. He would be good. As the Crazy Amy appears, Ansel raises his brows at the woman. Interesting choice, but he would not utter a word. The beast was calmer, though. Tense, but less filled with rage. The man would then nod to Hudson’s elbow before moving forward. Looking back at Sargaso to nod in his direction as if to thank the man for defending Josleen’s honor. Instead of going directly to Josleen’s place, he knew exactly where she would be. Before he had come to this little match, he had dropped the weakened woman off at the Dancing Destrier. Josleen was trying to get her strength back from the assassin attack, and Ansel had been on her guard for the last few days. Besides, he was not allowed near her home, anyway – not yet. On the way, Ansel had tried to clean up the blood from his face, but mostly he had transferred the blood to his arm instead. There was a little that had dried upon his chin. He would get cleaned up at the hotel.