[center][color=teal][h1]Jerod[/h1][/color][/center]

Jerod grinned ferally when the lightning struck, heaving his axe off his shoulder into a ready position, turning to face the three remaining lancers. Poor sods were probably expecting to face off with the Champion lad himself or something, lances were useful for dealing with swords users. Not his axe though, and he didn't even blink as the arrow slammed into his shoulder, forcing him to step back from the impact, looking at the arrow now jutting out of his shoulder before turning his gaze onto the middle of the three lancers, and inhaled quite calmly before letting loose with a wild, angry scream as he leaped headlong into the three lanchers, axe held high to bring down onto the first poor sod he reached. [color=teal]"AH'LL KILL E'ERY LAS' ONE O' YE, YE DAMN'D PRANCIN' NINNIES!"[/color] Probably a jarring shift for all parties involved, allies and enemies, since up until that point, Jerod hadn't given the slightest indication he would have such an all consuming battle rage.

Lances gave reach, which tended to make them feel safer against swordsman who couldnt reach them safely. It was why swords were not recommended for dealing with lances. Axes, though, their weight smashed through the supposed reach that they had, and besides, reach only helped against someone who cared whether or not they survived. A man willing to leap into a line of spearmen, screaming his defiance for all to hear, bringing an axe down with enough force to shatter a man's weapon, well, that was probably not what they were ready for. The first man who had the baleful attention of Jerod didn't even get a chance to stutter out a response as the fighter cleaved downwards with all his momentum and weight, smashing the lance in half and crumpling the man into the ground, jerking his now bloodied axe out of as he whirled onto the next one, letting loose with a ceaseless barrage of heavy handed, brutish swings that left little opening for the poor soldier under assault. The other one recovered and jabbed forward, embedding the spear tip into Jerod's side, hoping to at least stem the assault.

[color=teal]"IF YE DAMN'D FOOLS T'INK T'AT'LL STOP ME, YE'R DAMN FOOLS!"[/color] Jerod roared and spun, wrenching the spear tip from his side and catching the man he was turning from with the backside of his axe, concussing him and sending him crashing to the ground as he leaped full force onto the offending lancer, raining a heavy crescendo of blows that would have left little more than mincemeat and a badly damaged lance. The last had recovered his wits enough to try and attack the distracted, battle mad fighter,  and scored a glancing blow like the archer and other lancer had, and Jerod was quickly splattered with enough blood that telling his, from anyone elses, was nigh on impossible. Jerod spun, running the lance into his already injured side to snare it in place so he could freely smash his axe down into the offending lancer's head, more than once as he crumpled to the ground, and was left little more than a mess as Jerod ripped the lance clear, screaming at the horsemen hiding from him behind the wagons, fixing his sights on the largest group. [color=teal]"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH"[/color] Short of the Champion reigning him in and redirecting his rage, he would gleefully go charging headlong into the largest group of enemies he could find next, survival and injuries be damned.