Master Scourge's page

A dark look crosses Scourge's face as a burble of half-mad laughter escapes Sy's lips.

"Oh, a funny man are ye? We love funny men here, don't we, Sy?"

The deranged woman grins and nods before moving quick as a snake and swings her truncheon towards Ned's stomach. She manages to mistime the blow and it barely grazes him, doing no lasting harm.

Scourge spits in annoyance. "Three lashes fer insubordination, meat. Care ta make it six? Keep yer hole shut an' get on deck NOW!" The pirates flanking him and the ones in the doorway move forward, their intent to wrestle him up the stairs.

Day Five
Weather: Clear.
Course: Southeast of Dahak's teeth.

The fifth day rolls around and everyone is greeted by the sight of Master Scourge and a few of his cronies, Sy and Fipps, armed with truncheons. They move up to Ned and wakes him up rudely before he has a chance to escape sleep, flipping him out of his cot. "Awake ye lazy dog and on deck! MOVE MOVE MOVE!" he starts to bark at the newcomer, Sy and Fipps emphasizing the point by brandishing their weapons while Aretta and Jape make their way down the stairs and watch the group warily.

Mister Plugg nods towards Scourge who grabs Allysen's shirt and lifts it over her head for the whipping. He stops for a second in surprise and laughs. "Not a lad, but a lass, sir!" He puts the front of her shirt low enough to cover her some but leaves her back bare before tying her hands up to the mast above her head.

"This 'as already gotten better.", he says.

Master Scourge grabs Seijiro roughly and pulls the kitsune's shirt over his head before tying his hands to the ropes hanging from the mainmast.

"For dereliction of duty, three lashes!", barks out Mister Plugg.

Master Scourge grins sadistically and swings his whip once, twice, three times in quick succession.

The first lash 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17 results in 1d3 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4 points of nonlethal damage.
The second lash 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15 results in 1d3 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5 points of nonlethal damage.
The third lash 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14 results in 1d3 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3 points of nonlethal damage for a total of 12 points of nonlethal damage.

(Just a note here: the attack rolls are just there to make sure that Master Scourge doesn't roll a natural 1. He doesn't have to hit AC for the damage to be applied when you're tied to the mainmast during punishment.)

The pain is so intense that by the third lash, Seijiro passes out. Mister Plugg grins smugly as Master Scourge unties the unconscious kitsune and lets him fall unceremoniously to the ground.

"A virgin to the lash! An' I was so gentle. Soft, this one is.", Master Scourge exclaims to much laughter from his toadies.

Looking up at Master Scourge, hatred barely contained underneath the surface of her soft elven skin, Master Scourge, sir, I just delivered the missive that is where I am coming from. Master gunner was in the Quartermaster shop.'explains the runner.

Choosing to ingore for the time being the whispered comment. Don't need to get in the bilges yet with that scum.

The boatswain laughs heartily.

"Aye, wench. F'sure I'll find the master gunner in the armory 'f I jest walk in.", he leers at her again. "Ye'll feel the kiss o' me lash yet, an' I look forward to it."

Jasmine can sense the greasy feeling of his eyes fixed on her as she walks off.

Jasmine barely has time to look around and start thinking about what she's going to do next when the ever present Master Scourge notices her and walks over.

"What're ye doin', here, wench? I sent ye with a missive fer master gunner Krine.", he stops and sneers as he starts to play with his whip. "Maybe ye be wantin' t'entertain the crew by feelin' me lash come the 'Bloody Hour'.", he chuckles menacingly and looks the elf over. "'Less ye had a taste fer somethin' else, poppet?", he leers suggestively, speaking softly enough that only Jasmine can hear.

Since you took the "work diligently" ship action, you'll have to wait until later to do any exploring (it takes into consideration that you're focusing exclusively on your job). Don't worry, there's still plenty of time to find Flotsam, and have more reasons to dislike Master Scourge.

Amerdan Stormspeaker, herbalist.

"Amerdan, the swab ye mean.", he punctuates the word with another spit on the deck. "An' I have just the job fer ye, swab. Yer mannin' the bilges today! Sounds perfect, don't it swab?"

Manning the bilges requires a DC 12 Strength check and a DC 10 Constitution check to avoid being fatigued at the end of your shift.

"Jasmine Rose reporting, Master Scourge," nothing more nothing less is stated.

"I have some work fer ye ta keep yer pretty arse moving." he chuckles and a few of the more sycophantic crew members join in. "Yer gonna be runnin' messages to the crew an' officers fer' the day an' be quick about it or ye'll get the lash."

This job requires a DC 10 Acrobatics check to succeed and a DC 10 Constitution check to not be fatigued by the end of your shift.

The boatswain leers at Jasmine and grins a mouth full of gold teeth.

"Well, well, fresh meat for Master Scourge issit?" he chuckles. "I can find some good work for a pretty lass like ye, I can. Maybe even enough to keep ye tired through the day and night!"

He spits on the deck and turns towards Amberdan. "An' a healer too? Besmara's smilin' on the Wormwood she is. Sound off yer names, swabs and I'll be findin' ye some work to keep yer hands busy."

Several pairs of heavy footsteps echo from above and light starts to spread from a staircase near you as seven men make their way quickly into the room, shining their lantern into your eyes.

"Still abed with the sun over the yardarm?" snarls a tall man with a braided beard who cracks a whip over your heads, "On your feet, ye filthy swabs!", he screams, "Get up on deck and report for duty before Cap'n Harrigan flays your flesh into sausage skins and has Fishguts fry ye up for breakfast!" His mouth splits into an expression that might be mistaken for pain, but is clearly an attempt at a smile.

The six others are a motley bunch of hard looking men carrying saps with cruel smiles etched on their faces, waiting for an excuse to lay into you all.

Mr. Trigg has been granted his own profile.