The large siege tower of Godfrey of Bouillon rolled up to the walls, dropping its bridge, and unleashing a hail of crusaders. They got on the walls and began hacking away. Crusaders and Fatimid defenders flew off the walls to their deaths, left and right. The clash of arms and blood being spilled, making the ground slippery, and causing an even more dangerous situation on the walls. The crusaders continued to beat forward, shoving the defenders off into the streets to their deaths. It was looking almost like a giant wrestling match, as the crusaders continued to push forward against the ever straining defenders. A defense could only hold for so long against the growing numbers of crusaders. It wouldn't be long before these attackers overwhelmed the defenders. 

A last siege tower dropped its bridge on the walls, letting loose a large group of Norman crusaders. Among the Norman crusaders, blending in as best he could, was a squire by the name of Gudmund Tollak, a Norman, came with Robert Curthose's number. He didn't want to look too much like a squire at the moment, as he might be stuck doing some tedious task, instead of advancing with the other crusaders into the city. He didn't appear anything like a squire at the moment, anyways, as he wore his chainmail shirt, coif, and the traditional Norman helmet. He wielded a kite shield and an arming sword, blending in quite well with the other Normans. And of course, he wore the tabard of the crusaders, proudly. 

Charging forward with the other crusaders across the bridge, not quite in the front, but close to it, came Gudmund, yelling something that was not quite understandable in the heat of battle. He finally made his way to the front as they poured over the walls into the streets of Jerusalem. The northeast gate, where the crusaders had been attacking at, swung open, as another group of crusaders stormed in. There was no restraining it now. The north east wall had been breached, and the other walls would soon crumble with them.

The crusaders only began to slow down just a bit as they encountered resistance along the streets. Gudmund, along with the others, was adding to his body count little by little, killing the terrified, and sometimes brave, armed defenders in the streets. Citizens would charge out armed, and be cut down, standing no chance against the battle hardened Norman Crusaders.

Killing someone was not as unsettling as it used to be. Gudmund could still remember the faces of the people he killed, burned into his memory. He had grown to accept it after long, since he was carrying the memory of the most important part of a person's life. The nightmare's would continue, and the only thing to do was to keep going and have as much fun as you could when you weren't out killing, because your time might come the next day. In this way of life, people became more hardened and kinetic. 

Robert Curthose was determined to lead his men to the Holy Sepulcher and possibly beat all of the other groups. The citizens were running or throwing themselves at the crusaders' feet, begging for mercy, and further slowing them down. Usually they would just step over them or kick them out of the way, but every now and then you got a clever little bastard who decided to stick a knife into a crusader's back and then pretend like he was innocent before an angry crusader hacked him down. This usually was why they would be called out on killing "innocent" people, when the opposite was true. Such was the malady of the warrior. 

The blood from the dead bodies was starting to stain Gudmund's clothes. His tunic, though already stained, was getting blood along the edges and some swipes across the front. Finally, after trampling the civilians who pleaded for mercy, they encountered a little bit of real resistance. Some Fatimid defenders had formed a line of shields, but soon the crusaders came running full speed at it, crashing through, as the blood shed began again. As the other crusaders found themselves entangled with the defenders, Gudmund found himself facing off against two defenders, as one stabbed at him with a spear, he charged forward, crashing into the man with his kite shield, and knocking out some teeth and breaking his nose, whilst simultaneously hacking at the other with his sword. This fight, was soon brought to a close as another crusader killed the second man and Gudmund smashed the broken nosed Fatimid into submission with his shield, before pulling back and plunging his sword into the man. 

Gudmund was at the forefront with his fellow crusaders, something he had never dreamed would happen on the fateful day. He would be one of the first Norman Crusaders many of these people would see, today, and possibly the last.