"All is ready, Templar," Hissed the Highest Custodian of his majesties prison.
"I'm not a Templar anymore. Jack...call me Jack," Jack said, without his holy armour, vestments and scripture that he had carried on him since being born. A lifetime in the order had come to a crashing end, and while shamed beyond belief, Jack had yet to give up on this chance of redemption.
"Then...Jack the Warden. They are assembled."
"Jack, you should start sooner rather than later. The One has demanded speed in this matter," muttered a red-robed inquisitor.
"Thank you Phillip, it means a lot to me that you decided to remain in my service. All of you, thank you for your loyalty. I do not deserve it," Jeck turned to bow his shaved head at the man. Again be bowed, although this time to the neatly dressed rows of inquisitor priests and crusaders standing far behind.
"The pleasure is ours. When we heard our Templar was being discharged in such a fashion, we all knew then and there our time to serve the three in the Cathedral had come to an end. I wish to catch them as much as you do, Jack. We all do. Those evil souls that ruined such a holy place...," Phillip stared with hard blue eyes like chips of ice, and his rugged hands clasped with white knuckles around his sword-staff. Behind him the temple Faithful grew similar stern, the fires of retribution flickering brightly in their eyes.
The day was rainy, thunder blared in the distance and it's flashes of light lit the large stone room that they above. Shaped into an octagon, the huge room was meant to serve as the eating hall for this prison. Instead, the tables had been removed, the hundreds of inmates handed weaponry and pushed to the walls. The guards had withdrawn to their high turrets and vantage points to watch with relative safety, yet even they were armed to the teeth in case the prisoners turned on them.
The guards gave Jack's followers odd looks, their sauntering steps, rusting equipment and lack of faith making them a completely separate - lesser - breed of warrior.
"Than let us begin."
Jack the Warden rose a hand, all the prisoner's eyes fixating on him.
"Criminals, heretics....traitors. I have come to offer you a chance of redemption, a chance at salvation! You have been gathered, armoured and left to ponder. Well, wonder as to your fate no more. Those who pass this test will be offered clemency and the chance to join me on the Thunberad Crusade! Heaven eternal! Wealth enough to live a prince! Fame enough to become a legend! Glory like you have never before dreamed! These will be yours, instead of a wretched cell, segregated from society and spat upon - you could have it all!"
Jack watched as the inmates held their weapons tighter, each displaying various levels of efficiency and professionalism in their stance. The monsters amongst them unnerved the mere humans, the one known as 'Flower Knight' all alone in her area of the hall despite being the only one still bound by chain and lock. A woman who now had flowers blooming from her hair and vines wrapping her arms as if she were a part tree...Jack couldn't blame them.
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"Many of you were born into slums, forests, poor villages and poorer families. Others amongst you made hard choices in hard times and were made criminal due to situations forced upon you. Yet a life of honour is still possible for you, a life of respect, and a life that will be celebrated by the world. YOU can save humanity from the 18 evil souls, YOU can be heroes!"
Cheers, erratic but strong. Then more, stamping feet, bright grins.
"What do we have to do?" Roared a man with a toad's neck and three teeth.
"You need to cut down the unworthy - while proving your own ability in combat. Where we go there will be demons, fallen saints, ancient evils and wicked gods. You must prove yourself capable, and not a liability. You all number four hundred in this hall, yet I have room for only forty. Rest assured, the last forty left alive will see their wounds tended too with the small team of priests and crusaders I have on hand."
Jack stood still as a statue, the prisoners eyeing one another below. None dared make the first move, the Flower knight's mad laughter the only sound other than the tinkling of rain and crashing of lightning.
Phillip stepped forward, cold eyes holding the weight of a god's judgment behind them.
"You may begin," he said clear as day and as emotional as a lump of stone. He tapped his sword-staff once upon the stone.
The next instance was carnage.
Men turned to animals, women to banshees and the craven soon made themselves known as they charged the barred jail doors. Grim eyed guards stood beyond, unmoved as the criminals were cut down by those who had chosen to fight.
Jack forced himself to watch the slaughter, as human and monster alike fell upon each other like wolves upon the lamb. The fighting was bloody, cut-throat and ruled by complete anarchy of hundreds of struggling limbs. Murders tried to pull their guts back into their body, swindlers attempted to feign their strength while staying out of the worst of it and madmen cackled while tearing out their own nails.
Amidst it all the Flower Knight was different. Jack hadn't seen how she broke the chains, but she strode now through the battle as if it were a flowerbed. Her hair was a mane of flowers, a rainbow of hues with crimson being the most prominent. Her eyes were grass green, her fine pink lips pulled back to reveal perfectly set white teeth.
A man dove at her back, dagger in hand. The Flower knight whipped around to smash his head into the ground, then planted something in his mouth. In the next moment, he squirmed but did not scream. From his body burst roots, and from his mouth a crimson flower.
The Flower Knight plucked the flower, admired it, then added it to her mane.
"Jack, some of these people have useful skills. Having them kill each other like this will waste their talents," Phillip warned, without any hint of compassion in his eyes for the desperate masses of life.
"I know. I have read the report of each member here, maybe it's time to lend a hand to our latest recruits."
Summoning his golden chains, Jack first extracted Tony the Breton. The thief rose to hang by golden chains before in the air before Jack.
Fast with his hands, and faster with his feet, Tony had been a pick-pocket that had slipped a jewelled ring free of a baron, then another from his wife and then the necklace of the daughter. All on the same night. If only he hadn't boasted loudly about the theft at a nearby tavern the next day, he wouldn't have been caught.
"Tony the Breton, do you swear your everlasting loyalty to Jack the Warden?" Phillip announced with all the aires of a professional priest.
"Aye, aye I do-"
"Liar," Phillip hissed, a golden eye flaring at his forehead. Tony the Breton paled, "No- no I swear it! I'll follow him, i'll-"
"Liar."
Lifting him high, Jack built up strength before slinging him back into the fray. Tumbling against the stone, Tony the Breton had his throat cut before he could so much as stand.
"For the remainder of you, I am a great priest of the All Kowing one. For as long as I have my blessing of [Truth] you cannot lie to me. Do so when questioned, or fail to give your honest loyalty, and you will go the same way as Tony the Breton!"