The Black Sheriff's Threats

"You cannot kill the Monks!" a voice shrilled bitingly.

"No, but I can castrate the bastards! I assure you it would be doing the Holy Church a service increasing their virtue..." the Black Sheriff sneered, and then spat, pacing around the twelve that were lying face down on the ground in front of his men.

The figures were motionless, helpless in submission, with their hoods over their heads and long brown robes, and just ankles and sandals bared.

"This Order harms no one Sir" the knight persisted bravely in his dangerous protest.

"Perhaps. Yet they contrive against me all the same - with their insolence. They endeavor to heal the foe we strike down - what madness compels them to nurture our enemy? It is contrary to law, and they needs be punished for their fickle humors."

Sweat drinkled down his neck, as the heat of the day had set upon them. Their tunics were weighing heavy, as none had slept and plainly his men had become weary.

"I will give them but one day to produce the traitor Robin or I will cut them all" he then added to pepper his threat: "Their hymns will be sung all the sweeter."

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series