Pick this thread (the other was added by mistake)

For a year the city had been under siege. A fleet of ships had blocked off the harbor, and around the walls lines of trenches set up, cutting off the food supply. Starvation was slowly taking its toll on the defenders, and the attackers had heard the noise of riots from within during the last few days.

The trebuchet’s had been flinging rocks nonstop these last few months, and the walls were clearly beginning to weaken. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before there was a breach, and it couldn't come any sooner. Anray plague and dysentery stalked the tents like demons. Fear, anger, hope, all mixed together into a jumbled mass that cried for release. No one knew what might happen when they finally assaulted, but one was clear: all the pent-up emotion, hardship, and frustration the besiegers had endured these past months would be slaked upon the defenseless city once the sack began.

And then, without warning it happened. A mighty boulder hurled at the wall knocked part of it down, massive blocks falling away upon the defenders crowed in the streets below. A breech Thirty feet wide now lay within the walls. Lord Harzal, the former ruler who had hired this mighty host, gathered his captains for consultation, and gave the order everyone had been waiting for.

"Assemble the army at dawn! We **** at first light!"

Korven ducked, cursing as a knight in shining armor leapt over the mercenary’s head, the hooves of his horse brushing his hair. A few inches lower and it would have ripped off the top of his head.

“Bastard!” he yelled, but only after the knoight was some distance away. His battered broadsword was gripped in his hand, yet Korven had little illusions about his ability to defeat such a warrior if offense was taken. Knights, as he had found to his regret many times, could be touchy about their honor....

Honor meant little to Korven. He was twenty-six this summers, and little in his life had been easy. Since he was thirteen he had been looking out for himself, as a thief in the streets of Kar-Azan, as a bandit in the Lorkhma Hills, and now a freebooter in the army of Lord Harzal. He knew little about why the noble lord, whom he had only seen but once, wanted to take this city, and cared even less. Korvens allegiances began and ended with one person: him.

The last of the defenders were being overrun, the breach opened to the main army. Having seen the ferocity with which they defended their city, Korven had hung back, letting others do the hard work. That was the key to success he had learned. There would be plenty of scraps to be plucked.

He heard a groaning sound to his left, and stopped, hidden behind some rubble, he saw a pair of feet, twitching slightly. He looked around, but no one cared, all were too intent on the havoc to come. Lord Harzal had promised them seven days to loot the city, and they were eager to get on with it.

Korven went over, and saw a man lying on the ground. A soldier, by the looks of him, though on whose side was hard to tell under the blood and grime. His eyes fastened on the purse at the man’s side. “H...help....” the man gurgled, clutching at the arrow in his side.

Korven grinned, and in one motion stepped up and stabbed the man in the through. Then even as the last breath was gurgling from his throat the mercenary knelt down and swiftly severed his purse. He jangled it thoughtfully, then looked inside.

Two coppers. Barely worth his effort., He tossed it aside, the purse landing inches from the corpse. The whole city was theirs, ready for the taking. Korven knew what his priorities were. A fine drink of wine, a wench, willing or otherwise, and as much gold as he could carry, and more besides.