[@LeeRoy]

[i]Zande advanced to meet Ansgar, but his approach could be hardly considered slow and steady. He broke into an outright sprint, legs pumping and scissoring him across the distance between them, left axe swinging high up over his left shoulder, the lunatic headhunter cocking back as if he were about to pitch for the World Series. As he rushed forth, his chest expanded as he sucked in a great, heaving breath of air, jaw clenched and cheeks taut in preparation for the exertion to come. Tendons played across his dark-skinned neck like wires in a piano. Upon getting within striking range of Ansgar, a shuddering, maniacal howl positively gushed out from him, spittle spray and steamed breath escaping his maw as sulfur and lava would an erupting volcano, his lungs emptying out as his entire body torqued into a mad caricature of volatile motion. Zande wasn't attacking in the way a man does. This was the assault of a genuine monster, whose sole purpose was to inflict as much grievous harm as possible no matter the cost.

[img]http://www.youthpitching.com/img/pitching-arm-care-image.jpg[/img]

The right axe thrust out to meet the front of the shield should Ansgar remain where he was in his current position, potentially catching the spike between the bladed prongs at the top of the axe head at an angle such as to force the shield outwards to Ansgar's left. Zande's intent following that was more than obvious, given how he was about to devote nearly every iota of his physical being into swinging his heavy left axe. 

Ansgar could continue with his stab, Zande wouldn't stop him. It was a tempting proposition, surely, to try and stab Zande through the neck or body as he rushed into range. But, all things considered...[/i]

[b][color=9e0b0f]*Hot Steppa, the battleaxe that was soon to come. An instrument of death if ever there was one. Six pounds of wickedly ridged steel, the same amount of metal put into a Zweihander, quadruple folded into a compact cleaver-like blade that could bludgeon a wild boar to death just as easily as it could chop the animal near in half. It took more than strength to put such a weapon to use. It required the body's full devotion and perhaps even more importantly, one needed the raw insanity to even think about being reckless enough to swing the thing around. But at exactly what point did Zande's recklessness become cunning? Madness and stupidity are separate entities, after all...*[/color][/b]