Durga heads to the right

He went to the right, his massive feet tramping on the cobblestones, bloodstained sword gripped tightly in his hands. Around him bands of mercenaries finished off the last of the defenders, the screams of the dying echoing off the walls. Others were breaking into houses and he could hear windows breaking, doors being smashed open, and shouts and shrieks as the inhabitants were confronted by their attackers. The sobbing of a women amid loud male laughs told him that more was being surrendered this night than just gold and jewels.

A man staggered past him, a Vargyri mercenary from the northern steppes, his neck draped in gold, a bottle of wine in one arm. He was giggling, his free hand rubbing the deep gash on one cheek that was staining his face with blood. As Durga went past he saw a group of Forkari emerge from a building, one of them carrying a struggling women over a shoulder. Laughing, they disappeared down an alleyway.

Durga frowned. This sort of thing was to be expected, and it didn’t bother him none. After five years fighting as a mercenary, he’d seen this, and worse. What bothered him though was that there seemed to be no plunder for him at all. Then, ahead, he saw what he wanted.

By the looks of it, this part of the city was the home of wealthy families, nobles and merchant princes. Andrapur was known for the wealth its people had gained, especially from **** trading. The **** market here was the largest in the world, it was said, and gold gained from the sale of living souls poured into their coffers in a torrent. Up ahead was a massive mansion, with two golden chains set above the gates, the symbol of the Slavers Guild.

Durga saw the gates were closed, and several dead mercenary bodies lay before it. In the shadows beyond he thought he could see people moving, and the glint of weapons.

Durga disliked slavers intensely. As a boy his people, the barbarian warlike Seftans, had lived in fear of the **** raiders that would strike into their forested home, looking for fresh victims to carry away to market. Seftan women were known for their beauty, and desired as concubines and whores, Seftan men known for their strength and values as laborers. His very first battle, in fact, was against a band of slavers who had come against his village. He had slain many that day, and they had left empty handed, but in other places the people had not been as lucky.

Many Seftan’s enslaved had been sold here in Andrapur. That was one of the reasons he had joined this army, for the chance of well-deserved **** against the enemies of his people. And now he stood before the home of a slaver lord. No doubt the one who lived inside was guilty of many crimes, and deserved punishment. And the place would be filled with treasures just ripe for the picking.

On the other hand, it also looked well defended, as the dead bodies out front testified to. Should he head in?