joegoda | BP&G - The Mad Wizard (Reply)

It was a somber night in the Mansion. Grizelda had fed Jenkins, Pewitt and Weehawk a good meal and had set with them in the living room under the tree while she waited for Bags. She tried to make them comfortable, and was finding it very difficult, since she had no idea who they were, other than Jenkins, and Jenkins did not really hold a conversation. She suspected Jenkins may have had a speech impediment, but since he rarely ever spoke, nobody knew.

The four of them sat, and an uncomfortable silence fell over them. Grizelda had discovered that Jenkins knew neither of the other two, and the neither Weehawk nor Pewitt met before tonight. The only information she had been told by either of them is that Bags had picked them for a trip to find Pockets, somewhere in the mountains far to the south.

"You know," said Grizelda, "I met Bags and Pockets after they had left the Mad Wizard. They had been wandering for a few years then. I think they had been chased out of about every sizable village there was."

This was met with silence, heavy and solid until Weehawk said "So, you can't really tell us anything about what we're going to be facing? Nothing about the Mountains to the south?"

"Well... no." Grizelda admitted. "I came from the west originally. My parents abandoned me when I was very young, and I grew up in a ... I grew up where there weren't many travel opportunities."

"You were a whore?" Weehawk asked. Jenkins choked on a piece of bread and Pewitt's eyes just bulged.

Grizelda let the pause grow, considering how she would answer. Her immediate response wouldn't have been pretty, so after taking a breath she said, "Yes, I suppose you could say that. We tended to go by the titles escort, or even prostitute. Because you are so young, I wouldn't necessarily expect you to know the difference. A whore is fairly indiscriminate, Weehawk. They may not care who they are with. An prostitute is a bit more selective, and an escort is even more selective than that."

"In the last four years I had that job, and it was a job, I had only one customer, one prospect. He was not a nice man, I did not enjoy it, and I do not have good memories of it. When Bags and Pockets came into my life, I was trying to find a way out of that life."

"I had considered suicide, but I was lucky. There was a man, older and kind, who left me some land and a bit of money. And no, he was not a customer. He was ... like a father to me. Even with that, though, I had no way out. Nobody would help me because they were all afraid of what would happen to them if they tried."

"What was that?" asked Pewitt. He had gotten over the shock from Weehawk's question, though he was still blushing from head to toe over the topic.

Grizelda smiled grimly at Pewitt. "They'd be killed. The man who thought he owned me was a military man, a Captain of an army that had conquered our village." She turned back to Weehawk, and even her slight smile faded.

"Bags and I fell in love," she continued. It wasn't something we expected. I thought he was cute enough, and he was gentle and funny. Falling in love isn't something that you plan, it just happens."

"I don't have to tell you the attention Bags showed me did not go over very well with the Captain. This led to a battle between the two of them, no matter what I tried to do to stop it. Bags was nearly killed. He was cut from stem to stern, and almost died. He did kill the Captain, though."

"How did he survive?" asked Weehawk.

"I wasn't always a ... whore. I do have a few other abilities, Weehawk." Grizelda said, perhaps a bit more unkindly then she meant. Or perhaps not. Regardless, it put a damper and a stopper on the conversation right then and there.

Bags came home to the three of them, sitting under the tree in the middle of the room, not talking. Weehawk looked as if he couldn't quite figure out what to say. Jenkins was eating, and having a good time of it, oblivious to anything else. Pewitt had a morose, confused look on his face. Griz smiled sweetly when she saw Bags, stood up and crossed over to him.

"Hello, Dear. Interesting guests you send me." She said. Her arms were crossed and her eyes sent the message that he better fix it, whatever it is, and fast.

Bags stooped down and kissed her. "Hello, honey. Sorry bout the short notice"

"No notice, is more like it." She said.

Bags thought, 'Uh oh'. He moved to where Pewitt and Weehawk sat. He looked at the two boys and flipped a mental coin. He sat next to Weehawk, placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. In Weehawk's ear, he whispered "If I was you, I'd apologize for whatever it was you said."

Wincing, Weehawk's eyes met Bags. He read the intent there that said that if he didn't apologize life would be pretty miserable Bags and that would make life miserable for all of them, for quite a while.

Weehawk stood up, bowed deeply to Grizelda, and said, "Mistress Grizelda, if I have offended you in anyway, I do apologize. It was not my intent, and though I have no defense, I will say that my questions to you were not meant to be rude. I was brought up without a family, and raised myself from the gutter. I am, deeply, deeply sorry. You are my Queen, and I do what you command."

Bags looked over at Grizelda and said "He's the Grandson of BeJay, Griz."

The change over Grizelda was immediate. "OH! Well, hells bells... I wish he had said so. That explains an awful lot." She gathered Weehawk in her arms and hugged him as if he had been a long lost son. "You have nothing to apologize for, Weehawk. We all must be true to our natures, and you were just true to yours. I'm sorry if I made things difficult."

Weehawk, very obviously embarrassed, rolled his eyes and said "Okay, okay. Cut it out already. So we're both sorry. Can we get on with this?" This last was to Bags, imploringly.

"Sure." Bags answered. "There's some stuff you will need to know, if Pockets has actually gone into the tower." He looked at Grizelda. "Griz, this is gonna take some time. You can either stick around and listen, but could you get someone to make us some sandwiches or something?"

Grizelda yelled towards the back, "Brenda? See if there's any of that Roast left, make about ...." She looked around, gauging the hunger of the men before her. "About half a dozen sandwiches." She looked at Bags. "And a pot of coffee."