Skurr had waited and watched as the first volleys from the mercenary catapults struck.  He had heard stories about this kind of thing, trying to create disease and weaken the will to fight.  But, the Karusians seemed to lack even this knowledge.  They were storming the city without giving any chance for disease to occur.

They were impatient.  It made them easy to read.  

They had two towers for attacking the walls but they weren't complete and would need to be moved to the wall after they were finished.  It would be at least an hour for them to move such things across the sucking ground of the fens and since the moat was still present the towers shouldn't be able to reach the wall without help.  Flinging waste into the city was little more than a distraction but it did mean that the catapult crews knew their ranges and could hit the walls if they aimed for them.

Skurr grabbed his basket of weapons and hoisted it on his back, taking his spear in hand, before beginning to run along the wall toward the gate at as low a crouch as he could manage.  He would stay up high and keep the battlements behind his back to block the enemy's arrows and sight.  From there he should be able to throw his missiles down upon the backs and heads of the forces that were certain to breach the gate.  He approached the section of the wall above the gate as the clicking of crossbow bolts against the stone of the battlements became an unnatural rhythm.  He had barely set down the basket when a large stone smashed through a small section of the battlements along the wall.  The hit was at some distance but it did strike another of those who had been waiting to guard the wall.  

The man's fate was... clear.  But, there would be time for coping with the mess later.

While he had been distracted by the state of the walls, the gate had been under furious assault.  His attention was wrenched back to the matter at hand by the tremendous crack of the gate splitting to allow the enemy in.  The leader was a brute, he attacked like a wounded shark.  He seemed to protect himself only so as to harm others.  Savage and strong.  It would take those with other skills to stop him.  However, the men behind him were a bigger threat.  They followed his lead, slaughtering those who were stunned or distracted by the leader's powerful charge.  They were causing more death than that brute was.

The gate had to hold.  All of the other attack methods would take far longer than this one.  This was the priority and the fish were all gathered below Skurr, oblivious to the threat from above.  He took up a javelin, aimed, and threw.  Four paces behind the leader, one of the attackers fell with a gurgle as his pierced throat failed to serve its usual purpose.  Another javelin followed, and another.  The basket had been a little heavy but it still could carry only so many weapons. Eight javelins brought down eight enemies.  Five harpoons also found their marks before one of the attackers raised the cry about the attacker above.  That one could have dodged, Skurr aimed for the leader instead, hurling one of his last three harpoons at his low back.  It was one of the hardest places to protect and an usual target for most.  But, for a fisherman, the lower spine was a great target.  If you could hit it, you could keep your catch far fresher and make better money at port.  Besides, this guy wouldn't go down from one harpoon and a fisherman didn't need glory.  He just needed to make the savage a little easier for the others to kill.

Several of the attackers had found stairs and were charging up to attack him.  He had two harpoons left and precious little time to throw them.  He quickly tossed one in a long, high arc over the wall.  He hoped it would hit someone still crossing the bridge but he couldn't spare the time to look.  If nothing else, it might stick and trip someone into the moat.  There were things in the waters here that got... aggressive... when agitated.  His last harpoon he trained on the head of the stairs, hurling it the moment his gut told him to.  It hit a shield made of simple wood.  They had known what to expect of a ranged fighter.  But, they had failed to factor in one key difference between harpoons and arrows.  Harpoons were as heavy as any other light spear and barbed so that they could not be pulled out.  The lead mercenary found his light shield to suddenly be quite a bit heavier than he remembered.  It slowed him down and threw off his balance.  Skurr's sudden lunge with his short spear caught the man in the face and sent him screaming back toward the ground.  

Then the fight began in earnest.