RP:Sports, Politics and Secret Societies
Part of the Vakmatharas' Jar Arc
Summary: Hudson and Fitz come to Schezerade for some bro time to watch a newly popular sport, blitzball, but run into a familiar face. A decently good time is had before things go from shaky to worse due to an attack and Schezerade’s own boogeyman is afoot in a conspiracy against the Bard’s College Headmistress just after she learns of Cenril's curse.
Glorious Arena
A crowd of cheering and screaming spectators almost reaches the roof of this dome-topped structure. Some are seated, but most are up on their feet, stamping their feet and shouting out jeers and pumping their fists as several brawlers below in caged ring fight to the death against themselves, and possibly beasts that have been taken captive for such a glorious arena such as this. Severely injured combatants are carted off by healers that appear every once and a while, along with badly dismembered corpses. The stench of blood, gore and sweat is almost unbearable in this place, but it doesn’t seem to bother anyone inside. The adrenaline rush of the fight seems to be all that’s being focused on. In the centre of the arena, a massive statue of gold and white marble stands. This must have been a great and noble Avian warrior to be worthy of such idolatry.
On Friday nights the Arena is cleaned up and illusionists cast lights throughout the air to project a sort of field for Blitzball, a climbing celebrated new-ish sport in Schezerade and parts of Lithrydel. The timing of the games have moved back due to citizens new allergy to the sun, but other than such irritating events every face is beaming with team spirit and colors fill the stands. One side is red, black and white while the other is grey, metallic-blue and white. Some guys have even painted their chest to spell out ‘CARDINALS’ on the home side and lots of spirited cheer songs in response to gorgeous flying cheerleaders.
Brennia sits on her own on the home side sporting simple black leggings and a loose fitting jersey for the Cardinals in support of one of her students, Hinder, a well talked about promising soaring back for the home team. Her long silky black hair has been pulled up into a high ponytail as she sits in the stands cheering the Cardinals on and a smile on her face despite scars from boils that used to be on her forearms. A vendor selling bottles of ale or wine passes by and gives Brennia a red bottle which she tries to pay for, but is refused as he points out that someone in the high society bought it for her. A glance up to see the smug smiling face of Vermillion Draft and a short wave for her, but she surprises the urge to chuck the bottle up at him and smiles with a raise of the drink. She fakes a sip and seals it back up for it to sit on the floor by her foot for she doesn’t trust the fat Avian as far as she could throw him.
Hudson hasn't been to a blitzball game before but he's down with all sports and Fitz had suggested this as a man-date of sorts since Huds' beloved baseball team the Cenril Cubbies are kinda sucking the big floppy one right now. Fitz could use the break, the campaign trail has been brutal of late. He's constantly asked to talk about how he would react to the Sudden Vanishing in Cenril. Obviously the only thing to say is that an investigation should be ordered. The cause - put vaguely - should be uncovered. It's just intensely awkward because the fear has meant some anti-witch sentiment has spilled over from Larket, and Fitz is the pro-magical identities candidate. The seating situation is flexible, like a movie theatre, it's do it yourself, so Huds and Fitz are roaming about in search of the ideal place to sit and eat approximately 20 hot dogs each. "Here, she's cool and you should meet her," that's Hudson recognizing Brennia. He drags his mate in her direction. "Miss Smyth! Can we join you?" is how Hudson greets the avian woman. He maneuvers carefully around her. He's got a tray with beers and fries and chicken nuggets. Fitz has the nachos and hot dogs. They assume it's fine to impose and seat themselves next to her, with Hudson in the middle. "This is Fitz Johnson, he's running for mayor of Cenril," Hudson introduces his friend.
Brennia’s long pointed ears pick up a familiar voice and those focused liberty blues shift to see Hudson and the fella she met recently at his wedding, “Hudson, hey! Yes, of course!” She said excitedly with that bright smile returning to her plump lips which pokes dimples in her caramel cheeks. Once the men get comfortable Brennia extends a hand over Hudson to Fitz, “it’s so nice to see you again Fitz since the wedding. So nice of you to accompany a woman of my size down that aisle,” she jests because she knows she awkwardly tall for a woman, but she can laugh at herself. An envious glance at their food, “I was unaware they had nuggets,” a shrug before her eyes catch Hinder Windgate patting through a goal hoop and gaining them the lead. Nearly all of the spectators on their side stand and cheer wildly and this includes Brennia, surprisingly, as she stands to clap. She starts cheering and her bardic powers sent it throughout the area, but it was so loud that no one seemed to notice except for her. Her tattooed hand slips over her lips as the cheering slowly dies down, “whoops. That’s my student,” she looks like a proud mother or something and all the motion caused the bottle at her shoes to have spilled open, but not so much so. “Oh, careful there fellas,” leaning down to pick up the bottle and set it aside, “good thing I was not planning on drinking -that-.” A sort of adorable roll of her eyes to punctuate her opinion on the matter as if she were speaking of a person and not of a stupid wine drink..
Hudson had totally forgotten Fitz had walked Brennia down the aisle, that day had been a bit bananas for him. Fitz hadn't forgotten, though, he meets Brennia's eyes knowingly. "Yeah, we met, Huds. Good to see you again," he says. "Oh, that's right," Hudson attributes his diminished memory/this senior moment to his children. He holds the tray of food more toward Brennia's seat and gestures that she can have some. She's more engaged by the game, though, and Hudson and Fitz quickly become swept up by it too. They've got too much food to get to their feet, and anyway, Brennia's cheering for the two of them. Woman has pipes. The men exchange a glance. And then she's sheepishly apologizing for her enthusiasm, explaining the relation to the player, and they're both endeared for it because they're both fathers. The spill happens next. Hudson bends to catch the fallen wine bottle. "No? It looks like you were going hard - a whole bottle, eh?" he jokes, setting it upright and in her cup holder. He opens his beer, and then Fitz's. "Do you want my beer instead? I don't mind trading."
Brennia’s smile returns, “please, a bottle of this watered down slush won't even get me buzzed.” She usually doesn't talk like this, but she knows Hudson is a fellow rich brat like her and gives a shrug. A short raspy giggle at Hudson and his kind offer, “thank you, but I'll be fine. I wasn't planning on having any drinks, but it seems someone is trying to make me look bad.” She subtly nods towards where the high socialites are sitting in their private box and Vermillion was keeping a nosy eye on her while trying not to be obvious. She had some reading material with her folded away in a sort of folder of papers she was grading before the game starts. Pulling free a local newspaper and passing it to Hudson while taking a nugget like it's a trade. “He owns The Vindicator,” within this paper were circled articles where the Bards college or herself were discussed and each time was not in a flattering light. An infraction was accused on the play by a referee and the home side berates the call with jeers. Brennia calls the referee a wanker or something, throwing her hands up. Some rows below there was an illusionist going around to what seemed like random people and projecting their images above the field between downs, but obviously keeping a lookout for someone.
Hudson tries to read the label on the bottle. He's pretty happy with his overpriced beer, so he shrugs off the declined trade. He and Fitz do, however, look where she's pointing to, where Vermillion is sitting. They don't recognize the guy, but when Brennia hands Hudson the paper, Fitz immediately comments, "Vermillion Draft. His name's in my talking points for the area." Of course, an aspiring politician's job is to memorize facts like these. Hudson immediately gets nugget crust on the paper as he flips through it, casting a quick eyeball over the articles that have been highlighted by Brennia. Fitz is leaning into him, reading over his shoulder. "Are we having a cuddle now," comments Huds, moving the paper so that his friend can get a better look. "Obviously skimming but these read like a hit job, Bren," he remarks, glancing up at her as the word 'wanker' has just erupted from her mouth. Fitz, also being somewhat easily riled, has cupped his mouth with his hands and shouted something that cannot be printed here. "Dude. Don't get us thrown out, I engaged in strenuous negotiations with Alvina for this! I'm not having it end early because you're drunk off of a fifth a beer." He reaches over Fitz and takes a handful of fries, pushes them into his mouth.
Brennia nods, “he’s all very condescending and passive aggressive whenever we are face to face though.” The illusionist has made their way in front of Brennia when she wasn't paying attention. She waves away Hudson’s worries, “oh he’s fine. That sort of spirit is encouraged here. It can be a quite brutal sport,” but when her name was called she looked one row down to see one of the arena employee watching her and Hudson. It was what was being projected over the field which caught her attention though as surround eyes look towards them in anticipation since they are depicted within a heart and a Cupid hanging out above them. A lot of ‘ooo’s could be heard from the crowd as it is customary to ‘kiss’ for such a display for entertainment while the one team has called a timeout. Brennia was giving her best fake smile to the illusionist and spoke through her teeth easily using Bardic power as if she were a ventriloquist, “merde, this is Draft's doing.” Of course urging her to kiss a married man at a public function would end up in a local tabloid, The Warbler. She’ll show him! Her head spins to look to Hudson at her right causing her long high ponytail to swirl over her bust, smile softening a little with mischief twinkling in those liberty blue eyes. Her arm slips around his broad shoulders while her other hand reaches up to snare his scruffy chin and she inches in as if she were going to kiss him, but just at the last second like playing chicken with a train her hand on his chin gently forced him to turn his head (if he didn't already). A very soft platonic smooch placed on her friend’s cheek so the audience gets what they want without implicating them in any scandal and she turns her head back to the illusionist with that big smile on her lips. As laughter and cheers fill the stadium she gives a little squeeze to Hudson with their cheeks pressed together showig their friendship to the area like ‘na-na-na na-na-naaaa’.
Hudson | "No kidding, that's frustrating. If I had articles like this printed about me I'd never get elected," muses Fitz, with a glance to Hudson, who is chewing on the oversized bite of fries he'd taken. Here is a thing about Fitz: Hudson recently prevented certain scandal because Fitz was writing dirty letters to women he'd never met. "Maybe we can talk to the Cenril paper guy we know, Huds," says Fitz to Hudson, who comes close to giving his friend a dirty look for suddenly trying to play hero. Hudson doesn't want to clean up any more messes, doesn't trust Fitz to behave given the content and volume of letters. He gives the illusionist a concerned glance precisely because he has a good idea of the guy's role. He doesn't want the dude to be near them. "I hope we're not on the projection --" he is saying, when it becomes that they are. Fitz is also visible and, like an idiot, points and waves at it. He's that guy. Man, Hudson doesn't want to get booed, better do a thing. When Brennia puts his arm around him, he has the same idea. It's what you do. As the arena cheers, Fitz very helpfully squeezes in close to Hudson and likewise follows suit, kisses him on the cheek before grinning like the Cheshire Cat and giving the illusionist a thumbs up. Hudson appreciates a troll maneuver when he sees one and shoves his friend away, much to the delight of the crowd. The illusionist continues on his way, and Hudson reaches for his beer, glancing in the direction of Vermilion Draft. "We should have brought a sign or something," he says. "Was that not good for you?" Fitz wants to know. "I need to be wined and dined a little first," Hudson says, glancing at Brennia. "Well played. You OK?"
Brennia giggles shortly while slinking her arm back to herself and looks down at their shoes, “well there's the wine and,” she motions to their smorgasbord of food before looking at the crumbs in his beard, “well.” The illusionist before them is not smooth whatsoever and the disappointment on his face shows before looking up at the booth behind them with a shrug until he's moving on leaving the trio alone. Brennia glances back at Hudson since the game he picked back up for the last quarter, “I'm fine, I have many other things to worry about. Like running a college, directing the Bards guild, this solar allergy, but I'm starting to feel like one of those crazy paranoid people. Before term started back up I was in Larket and jumped by a small band of thugs.” The way she talks about being attacked was not dramatic in the least and nonchalant as if she were shrugging the incident off, “I've no way to prove it, but I think he was behind it. Not to mention all the horrible political changes he's trying to make to deepen his pockets.” She's looking at the men now and fixing them with a calculating look, “if you don't mind me asking, how much was your admission? And the food?” They have been trying to implement a system where they charge outsiders more for events (a lot more) and souvenirs, but they may have moved on to the food as well. She knows Hudson doesn't really worry about stuff like that, but it's beside the point.
Hudson doesn't think that there's anything paranoid sounding about what Brennia's telling him. Fitz is eating and apparently wearing some of the nachos. "You know the Larket mob's run by a newspaper guy? I recently solved that mystery," Hudson offers genially, reaching for some before Fitz eats all of the cheese. The implication that's left unsaid here is that maybe one nasty newspaper man knows another. Hudson could easily make some inquiries. In any event, Brennia is unlikely to hit that sort of trouble in Larket for much longer, as he and the Cenril mob are working on formally annexing it. Hudson exchanges a glance with Fitz over the cost of their food and drinks, and Fitz reaches into his trousers to withdraw their receipt, which is passed to Brennia, miraculously only getting one ketchup stain in the process.
Brennia sighs with frustration after taking the receipt, but not because of the ketchup, “so they started on this already. My admission was half this,” she nearly hands the parchment back, but- “actually, do you mind if I keep this?” She's trying to gather a case, but it seems the home team has this game in the bag for the first two quarters and half time is about to start. She means to get ahead of the crowd when she stands, “will you gentlemen join me out in the avenue during the halftime show. Typically, I would encourage you to stay and watch the Bards and beautiful cheerless put on a great performance, but I could use some air,” Tucking her folder away under her arm and giving a sort of look that ‘air’ means something else entirely before leading the way out out of the arena and into the eerily vacant street. Cheers of the crowd can be heard in the distance and orders being shouted for food or drink orders, but the street outside of the arena and armory is quite stranded. Signs can be seen posted about business changes hours due to the sun and a new feature being offered at a salon for ‘spray tan painting’. Once outside she would procure a cigarette from a small case, offer her company one if they wanted and lit it with a simple hum to which the gentleman might feel a warm small breeze because of this. “I know you guys probably aren't worried about little Schezerade and it's politics, but something is wrong and people are trying to take advantage. Some people in Drafts circle and Draft himself just seem off to me,” a long frustrated drag take from her cigarette.
Hudson | In response to Brennia's request to keep the receipt, Fitz waves a hand as if to say, go for it. Hudson, for his part, actually thinks that taxing out of towners is a shrewd way to get revenue if you're a tourist location like Scherzerade but he appreciates Brennia's concern. It's not about him, it's about others. She suggests that they ditch the place for the halftime show, and he and Fitz exchange a look before posing the tray of their mostly-eaten food on the cement floor for the grounds crew to pick up. Shame, they would have enjoyed that, in the bland way one enjoys these things. They're cheap thrills. They file out of the aisle after Brennia, saying "Excuse me" to the people they pass, and then fall into step beside Brennia. Both men, as if synchronized, graciously wave off the offer of a cigarette, but then Hudson backtracks, "Ah, just kidding, I do want one," and helps himself. He gives Fitz a cheeky shrug. "A certain amount of corruption is pretty normal," says Hudson, unhelpfully. "People get in power because others help them get there. You just gotta trust the intentions, what are Draft's people after you think?"
Brennia smirks agreeing with Hudson, “everyone is spotted with grey if not inked over entirely.” Funny coming from her and the fact nearly every inch of her is tattooed over(with Hudson's help no less!), but luckily for many in her circle that little ink problem has been held off for now. A glance to be back of her tattooed hand holding the cigarette as if pondering the fact at the time, “a year ago there weren't enough team members to allow the Cardinals into the NBL and I'm not trying to toot my own horn, but I've made great efforts to form a citizenship here and just listen…” she pauses for dramatic effect as they can still hear the crowds roaring for the halftime show over what sounds to be like a cover of a popular Rijanna song, ‘Work’. Another drag of her cigarette until thick swaying smoke is caressing lazily through plump lips and up the side of her face while she thinks, “everyone is too fearful to say it, but the politicians continuing to hold senate are making laws and amendments that only benefit their own pockets in some way while keeping ‘undesired’ people out of the town. Until they elect their own senator or someone runs for senator to stop them it seems they will continue to pass these ‘petty laws’.” She scoffs, “when this allergy outbreak happened he tried to put the blame on, and I quote, ‘filthy dirtboots mucking up our fine city.” A roll of her eyes, “such a small minded individual.” A guy in what looks like a hooded cloak lurks on the scene in the background just out of earshot, for now.
Hudson doesn't smoke regular cigarettes usually, but he's had a little to drink and feeling a social smoke right now. He likes this song in the distance, he wonders what they're missing. Brennia has a little pride in Schezerade, of course, he gets that. He feels the same about Cenril. He can understand her frustration with the current regime, but no doubt everyone playing the game of politics is in it for themselves. Certainly he's in it for himself, and the people and causes he cares about. He doesn't think he understands enough about the 'undesired' people being kept out of Schezerade to be properly offended but he assumes that the situation is not unlike the backlash happening in Larket and, quite unfortunately, even in Cenril. The Sudden Vanishing has brought a lot of ignorance out of hiding. Fitz is thinking the same thing, because he offers, helpfully, "The Sudden Vanishing in Cenril is being blamed on witches, which is awkward because I have to constantly address it and my wife is a witch. I think it's got to be something way bigger, because it seems like every city's gotten its own special problem." "People are lazy and like having easy explanations that blame things on other people," adds Huds.
Brennia finished off her cigarette and disposes it in a nearby trash can/ashtray combo. A quirk of a brow and crossing her arms under her perky bust, “The Sudden Vanishing?” She waits for an explanation while reading the men’s faces. The lurker in the background takes this opportune moment to slip up behind her and cast a binding spell on her wings, but when she whirled around to catch a sight of her assailant he had a handkerchief which had a heavy ether smell to it. A couple of other thugs come up behind Hudson and Fitz with plans to deter them from helping the Avian and possibly cause enough ruckus to get the pair kicked out of Schezerade. Usually Brennia would be quicker to a fight, but it seems these guys like to play dirty.
Hudson is surprised the news hasn't traveled to Schezerade, but then again perhaps they're focused on their own problems here. "Yeah like ... I don't know, I think it's 2-3% of the population of Cenril just vanished at the same time one day," he tells Brennia. "My wife's friend vanished literally in front of us," he says. "The ah... fetus too. Except we didn't find that out until later." He has gotten used to talking about it, and they may as well, because everyone had known Alvina to be pregnant and there's no baby on the way now. Fitz claps a hand on Huds' shoulder in a manner that's meant to be silently consoling. "Some people were really unlucky," says the mayoral candidate. The dampened mood makes it the perfect time for men to jump them. Fitz is running for mayor, he's certainly not an organized crime kingpin. So it's safe to say that Fitz is being pushed around, not making much headway in orienting himself. For his part, Hudson bounces a guy's head off a nearby lamp post and pulls the man off of Brennia, putting him in a chokehold. "Of for Sven's sake," says Hudson, as he watches his longtime friend, who has now taken a punch or two, scramble to his feet and sprint away, leading the third man on a cartoonish chase of sorts. Fitz, get the to the gym, man. The man in Hudson's custody is struggling, but Hudson's got him tight. "Can you help him? Are you OK?" he asks Brennia.
Brennia | No one is perfect, thugs included, and the chloroform that this particular one tried to create was not strong enough for an avian of her stock and her fall to the hard ground brought her back around, “hold onto that one.” Liberty blue eyes narrow at the man chasing Fits and she's practically sprinting before she can even stand properly, but her wings are still struggling under the smell, “merde.” She takes a dive for the man as soon as she was close enough, but he's definitely spooked by Brennia because he takes off for the skies and soars away. Once she is standing up once more she catches up to Fitz so he stops running saying, “mister Fitz. It's okay.” If it's not too forward she would take him by the elbow, spin him around to check his wounds for a second, “are you okay?” She asked while escorting him back over to Hudson and the captured thug, but the one that attacked Hudson must have skipped out of here due to another failed attempt. She means to question the capture thug and find out what he was up to. Those striking eyes rest on the thug struggling within her friend's strong grip.
Hudson is observing his friend sprinting away for dear life and is thus one second away from knocking the guy he's got out and running to assist. But Brennia seems to be on the case, and though she doesn't catch the guy he at least stops coming at Fitz. Fitz has taken a few punches to the face and has a bloodied nose. Not a great look for the campaign trail. Surely his wife Uma will have questions. "I'm good. I'm good," Fitz repeats. "I had that, I was just regrouping," he adds, apparently a little embarrassed to be rescued by a woman. The guy in Hudson's custody is giving him a little difficulty and turning a little blue, but Hudson has him well in hand. His skin is belatedly itching. That's the wolf. Not timely, right now. "I suppose you'll be wanting to keep this one," he remarks to Brennia, after checking on Fitz. His buddy'll survive, his injury is mostly to his pride.
Brennia promises to help heal Fitz the best she can before he leaves, but when she addresses the thug at hand she sounds very sweet and that persuasive charming smile shows itself, “now… I'm going to ask you two things nicely only just once.” Weaker men easily fall for this Bardic trick where she spells a soothing note under her sultry alto timbre, which may or may not help with Hudson’s itchiness temporarily. She has the guy’s attention now and in the moment he stops struggling, “what exactly was it you were trying to do here tonight and why?” The thug gets really quiet and blinks a few times up at Brennia who was now very close to this face, “frame you because I was hired to.” He makes a sound like he’s clearing his throat before launching a loogie at Brennia’s face which lands and causes her to recoil only for a second in order to wipe the vile moisture from her face. Doing so revealed the fact she was wearing makeup and where the spit took it off a scar was showing like the ones on her arms, but she was back in the thug's face in the blink of an eye. A glance around to make sure no one was out on the street with them while her Sai dagger was poking softly under the guy’s chin, “try that again at your own risk… Who hired you?” The voice that was just so soothing a second ago now incites terror and cowardice; possibly able to cause Fitz to pitz himself. Only Hudson might see it when a spot of black dots those blue eyes, but dissolve away just a second later. The thug bit down on something in his own mouth and he immediately starts to convulse and fall limply into Hudson’s arms. After a second she places the back of her hand under the unconscious man’s nose with a sigh, “he took something to make himself pass out. Better just leave him here.” A soft, exhausted sigh escapes her because she really doesn’t need this right now, but she looks at the two guys with her apologetically, “I am so sorry this night turned out this way. Next friday your admission, food, and drinks are on me. Let’s get back to the castle and get you boys cleaned up so I can return you to your wives in one piece.”
Hudson is a little disturbed but also impressed by Brennia's vocalization which apparently forces people to tell the truth. Dang. No need to make anybody drink truth serum, this is pretty convenient. He winces as the man launches some spittle in Brennia's face. Ah. So people aren't entirely docile. There's apparently some glitches, noted. About the same as serum, then. "Easy, buddy...." Hudson cinches his arm tighter around the guy, crushing his windpipe a little in recompense. Something happens to Brennia, then, something feral, something that reminds Hudson of the wolf that he keeps locked away himself. Fitz, who has been watching, manages only to piss himself a little (...). The thug that Hudson's holding seems to react with violent convulsions, and Hudson nods as Brennia explains that he'd taken something. He lowers the guy next to his fallen comrade, who is bleeding from the head but probably will come to in a bit. "Alright, let's go then. Gonna guess that wasn't a coincidence," guesses Hudson, glancing to Fitz, who is pale faced and nodding along with Brennia's invitation to get back to the castle. There's a mysterious shadow in the crotch of his pants. Hudson very politely says nothing about it while they remain in the company of a woman.
Brennia doesn't even glance at the spot on Fitz’s pants because she expects it, actually, let's just move on. “Wait, what's that?” She notices something dark on the back of the passed out guy’s hand, moves on to the next thug to pull his glove off which reveals the same mark. It's a tattoo of a wing with the shape of an eye within it and within the iris of the eye is the depiction of the planet. Could this be the work of a rumored secret society within Schezerade, the same who orchestrate so many events thick in conspiracy, the Flewminati? Brennia isn't easily riled or scared, but this causes goosebumps on her skin and without remarking on it for fear of sounding crazy she leads the way to her castle in a fast pace. Maybe the gentlemen can check it out for themselves and know what a real bogeyman is.
Hudson gets an eyeful, pun intended, of the tattoo, though Fitz keeps his distance for obvious reasons. "Everybody's got a calling card," says Hudson as they move along, back toward Brennia's home base. He glances behind them, in the direction they'd dumped their assailants. It doesn't occur to him to suggest to involve law enforcement, that's just not how he rolls. "I'm glad we're heading back to your place, I need to piss like a racehorse," he adds, with a furtive glance toward Fitz.