Rolf the Jolly - Berserker 1

A youth scrambled from beneath the enemy shields and ran into the open ground before them. He planted his feet firmly in defiance for the Danes and whirled his sling through the air above him before releasing a solitary stone. Rolf was three men from the front of the formation so couldnt see the missile sail through the air. The stone crashed into his helmet, knocking it clean off his head as he was thrown back into the men behind him. Blood ran down his face and he thrashed around to regain his feet. The pain in his head combined with his mood was too much to bear and he charged forward through the press of his comrades, bursting out of the shieldwall. He kept on running, the rage had been unleashed and there was no holding it back. The youth stood frozen to the spot as the big Dane ran straight past him and leapt into the row of shields behind him. Rolf thrust his spear into the throat of the warrior straight in front of him and then, drawing his sword proceeded to hack and slash at the enemy like a man possessed by the gods. The fury of his attack pushed the foe back and his comrades took full advantage of the growing hole in the enemy line. The Danes hurled themselves forward and crashed into the wavering Saxons, breaking the line in a landslide of axes and spears. Rolf staggered back, as the enemy fled before him, his arm bled from a spear thrust and his shield was broken and heavy in his tired hand. He roared at the enemy in defiance, then laughed as he sank to his knees with exhaustion.