Counting souls like sheep

"I want to kill them."

"There's my darling!"

"I won't give up on you, I know you're worth it!"

"You're going to make me work for it, aren't you - you little minx!"

"Come on man, get in! I've seen what they're capable of!"

"Heavier than you look... A little cardio wouldn't kill 'ya."

"He looks... nervous."

"I want you to have my baby!"

"We give him a running start?"

"You don't have to run from me, I only want to love you."

"I want his tongue... And liver."

"You want to shut him up?"

"You don't have to be alone anymore."

"Cowards and idiots, all of you."

"How ain't you dead yet?"

"Did I frighten you? I'm awfully sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Somebody's been telling stories outside of class..."

"Darling, let's not be ridiculous... Just come out and let's talk about it."

"You don't have to hide from me, I only want to help."

"This-! Is why-! We can't have-! Nice things!"

"Nobody loves you, nobody! You die alone, you shit!"

"*muffled screaming*"

"You weren't putting that tongue to any use anyway."

"Tell him he's got fifteen seconds to keep his job."

"Fuck me, they're bringing him in."

"Goddamn it, what else could go wrong?"

"Don't expect anything but honestly in my review of your performance."

"We could have been... beautiful..."

"Love is hard sometimes."

"Forgive me darling!"

  He pulled yet another silvered bolt from his torso. He was riddled with the thrice damned things. What should have been a casual slaughter and harvest of souls had turned into an utter debacle. It was dusk, the sun had been in his eyes. Still he’d seen the silhouettes of the people arrayed before him.

 His work had begun, so sweet the screams, so bright the splash of blood. It thrilled him, his work. But then it had turned sour. A twang of a crossbow, then unimaginable pain racing through him. What in the seven circles of unholy torture had hit him? It burned like cold fire and acid. He’d hissed then and whirled about to face his assailant. Nobody was there.

 The peasants had made good their escape. Black murder oozed like sludge through his thoughts. He would make this interloper pay dearly for their transgressions. Footsteps, faint and trying to be stealthy in the field behind the barn. He rushed after the noise, sickle whirling in preparation to haul the miscreant to him.

 Fool! It had been a trick. A hail of bolts rained down on him, then another charged magically came whickering out of the twilight air. A sickening crunch and the Warden went sailing backwards to be impaled upon the barn wall. The pain! Like nothing he had ever felt before. He writhed and cursed. Grasping the bolt he wrenches it free from his chest and casts it aside. Blasted thing even hurt to hold onto.

 Time had been bought while he was pinned to the barn. Whoever it was had slipped off again. Thresh was more cautious now. Once or twice, he could be surprised, but a third time. Oh no, not a third. No shame on him. Death and humiliation at the hands of a torturer supreme lay in store for whomever lurked in the copse of trees ahead.