"We capture the Monastery!"

Within a week, you've dispatched a strong **** of warriors to take the central monastery of the county. Thankfully, with the element of surprise, the few guards at the monastery and the nearby areas are easily dealt with, and the monastery is taken with little issue, its occupants all captured peacefully. You don't even have to personally take it over. In fact, you leave that to your men, while still having more than enough soldiers to defend the Soulravage Spire, have reinforcements for either area and still have enough men to raid and attack as you please.

After the week, you decide to take a trip out to the monastery, to see what the situation is like. You ride towards the series of small wooden huts and shops that make up the town, but its main feature is quite clearly the impressive stone Monastery of the Light that stands in the middle. A huge stone spire bursts up from it, penetrating into the sky with a delightfully Freudian manner. Orcs and bandits have set up various defensive positions around the town and in the monastery, although they all obviously let you stroll right through. You head up to the massive dual doors of the monastery, pushing your way inside.

The inside of the monastery has been gutted, pews replaced by beds for your men. A deer on a spit roasts over the holy burning brazier of the Light, and the rich tapestries of famous Paladins and Clerics seem to be being used as blankets. Your men have done a good job in desecrating the place. You've never been a fan of any of the faiths, whether it be Man's Holy Light, the Elven Pantheon or whatever the fuck the Dwarves worship, so you're not particularly bothered by any heresies you commit.

"Sir," one of the Orc captains says, walking up to you and saluting. "We have a tight leash, sir, on the... uh, sir, situation. Sir, the hostages, they're, uh, sir, in the back."

The Orc pauses for a moment, before hastily adding another "Sir" and a salute. Well, it seems at least this Orc hasn't completely understood the whole "Sir" thing, but you applaud his effort.

"Good to know. Take me to them, please."

The Orc grunts "Sir" one more time, before leading you towards the back of the room. You pause, seeing a dozen and a half young women, bound and kneeling on the floor, all wearing simple, rough, woolen brown dress along with white veils. The Daughters of the Light lie there, crying. They stare at the floor, all terrified. A fat, bald man with green robes kneels next to them, presumably the priest.

Finally, with a gag in his mouth and bound with endless chains to stop him from moving a millimeter kneels the cleric. His bald head is covered in burns that run down their face, and his hands are pink and scarred with endless burn marks. He's the only one here who seems angry instead of terrified. You pause, realizing he no doubt ho

"Oh yeah, sir, that one burned the shit, sir, out of a few of our men, sir," the captain says.

"A shame. Too risky to keep alive," you note.

You swing your mace through the air, crushing the man's head with a loud squish. His lifeless body falls to the floor, and you smile.

"Delightful," you nod. "Why are they all just tied up and left here anyway?"

"Sir, didn't know what, sir, to do with them, sir. Boys wanted to fuck 'em, sir, but, sir, I thought you might want to keep that intact, sir."