Location:Miles off the Shore of the Mungi Continent and away from Port Peril.
Time: Pirates and Sailors work from Dawn ‘til Dusk. For this story – it’s somewhere close to Dusk, and a time they call: The Bloody Hour.
One of the recently impressed men that they picked up from Port Peril is strapped , YET AGAIN , to the Yardarm. Stretched out to give Scourge (the Man At Arms and in charge of discipline) a full canvas of his unclothed back. This landlubber, has a loose flapping tongue with his jaw open so much that some of his brains had to have seeped out. Whiplash (that’s what we call him now) is crazier than a Bilge Rat for how many times
in just 5 days he’s been whipped.
“I ain’t doing your bullshit work! FUCK THIS SCRUBBING THE DECKS CRAP. YOU AIN’T GOING TO BREAK ME!”, yells Whiplash right before the first crack of Scourge’s whip strikes the canvas and streaks of red paint erupt from Whiplash’s fleshy frame. 5 more lashes and a limp, bloody body is untied from the yardarm and dragged onto a hammock located below decks.
Three more people are in line to be given into the hands of Scourge so that he may both teach, punish, and make his art.