Priest: The berzerker looked upon the smoldering ruins of some insignificant farming town. He began to blink out of his holy trance, as he saw no more puny vermin to slaughter. He smashed a nearby window in rage. He enjoyed his work, and he hated when it inevitably ended. Now was the worst part: helping out the lesser warriors gather trinkets to stuff in their ship's stores, an unseemly task that was for some ungodly reason necessary to finance their continued raids upon unsuspecting villages.

After grabbing some few sacks of coin from a nearby house, the berzerker sharpened his axe on some of that house's supporting beams, and ran outside as the house began to collapse. A fun adrenaline rush, but still a pale shadow of the euphoria of combat. He sulkily meandered his way back to his vessel, contenting himself to another few weeks of drunken revelry with his fellows before another suitable target was found. And when one was, he would be alive once again.

Merchant: The Troll quartermaster stood on the poop deck of his captain's ship, looking back at the willow of smoke on the now-distant shoreline. The only visible remnant of the now-extinct settlement the ship's raiders had just raided. The quartermaster sighed, thinking back to all the potential loot that the unkempt warriors had either smashed into worthlessness, or had just not bothered to carry with them onto the vessel before it sailed away. Priceless works of stained glass is hardly worth much smashed to smithereens. And piles of "useless" literary curiosities are better sold to eccentric collectors than used as kindling.

As much as the questionable education and discipline of his colleagues occasionally (read: constantly) infuriated him, they did enable him to make a decent living, with little personal risk to himself. And his colleagues did need him, loathe as they were to admit it. Valuable treasures aren't worth squat without connections to wealthy buyers, and a keen and knowledgeable eye is required to sell them for the highest price they'll fetch. A price that was often higher than the one officially reported by the quartermaster to his fellows. He thought of it as an extra commission for all the idiocy he had to bear while on the job. The idiots would undoubtedly see it differently, if they weren't too idiotic to ever notice it.