Woe doled out such a merry red thrashing to those marines and sailors. How he missed having so much crawling flesh under his power, the ability to elicit a reaction from the mere recoil of one's arm as he whirled the cat around and around. He wasn't excessive with the cat, as much as he wished to put one of them in bed with the captain's daughter, he held back. He had a task to do, and reveled in it. Sometimes he wondered at the fate of the dungeon keeper that he'd worked under, in that Oubliette in Andaris. The man had taught him so much, that such bonds lingered even in one that tried to scoff at sentimentality.
The thought of the keeper brought a second wave of energy to Woe's whip-arm, and he sent the beads of the cat scattered against the backs of one sailor's woven jute shirt. It hit with enough force to crack the fabric, and the man stumbled as he scrambled for the stairs leading above the deck.
"Up on deck, you lazy rummie! Obey your captain!"
It was a strange, surreal feeling that compelled Woe to succumb to the illusion, as Magpie had called it. Strange, to the point where he almost felt out of his mind, like he was not the torturer and vagabond Woe, but an enforcer upon a ship, sailing the seas of Emea.
He cracked the cat above the head of the man that was scrambling ahead of him. He was the last to rise, and Woe was determined to see them all above the deck and at work.
And so he did. He was the last out of the bowels of the ship.
He climbed the stairs, reaching the deck. And what he saw there, left him somewhat off guard. An attractive biqaj woman, resembling Magpie's mother, a younger version, was there, standing beside the clothes that Magpie had been wearing. Woe frowned, had Magpie himself succumbed to the traps of this place, and changed form, becoming one with the Emean illusion. For that matter, had Woe himself changed? He was tempted to seek out a mirror to see if he was still himself. He looked at his hands, and they appeared to be his.
Nevertheless, he tucked the whip into his belt, and waved the sailors away from the naked woman. "Give her room, you scabrous cunts, or I'll castrate you with the cat myself!"
Woe scratched the back of his neck, an uncomfortable look on his face, "Err... Magpie?"
The thought of the keeper brought a second wave of energy to Woe's whip-arm, and he sent the beads of the cat scattered against the backs of one sailor's woven jute shirt. It hit with enough force to crack the fabric, and the man stumbled as he scrambled for the stairs leading above the deck.
"Up on deck, you lazy rummie! Obey your captain!"
It was a strange, surreal feeling that compelled Woe to succumb to the illusion, as Magpie had called it. Strange, to the point where he almost felt out of his mind, like he was not the torturer and vagabond Woe, but an enforcer upon a ship, sailing the seas of Emea.
He cracked the cat above the head of the man that was scrambling ahead of him. He was the last to rise, and Woe was determined to see them all above the deck and at work.
And so he did. He was the last out of the bowels of the ship.
He climbed the stairs, reaching the deck. And what he saw there, left him somewhat off guard. An attractive biqaj woman, resembling Magpie's mother, a younger version, was there, standing beside the clothes that Magpie had been wearing. Woe frowned, had Magpie himself succumbed to the traps of this place, and changed form, becoming one with the Emean illusion. For that matter, had Woe himself changed? He was tempted to seek out a mirror to see if he was still himself. He looked at his hands, and they appeared to be his.
Nevertheless, he tucked the whip into his belt, and waved the sailors away from the naked woman. "Give her room, you scabrous cunts, or I'll castrate you with the cat myself!"
Woe scratched the back of his neck, an uncomfortable look on his face, "Err... Magpie?"
