As much distaste as he held for his company, Kaird couldn't help but feel a thrill as he charged forward with the smelly, disorganized mass of bandits. They lacked direction, lacked purpose, but even motivated by coin as they were, they were still a force to be reckoned with. By the reactions of the Rangers, Kaird could tell this was a point they seemed to have neglected to consider. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Akrelmar loose a heavy overhand swing at a man half his size, only to be promptly countered. Classic mistake. You never underestimated the small ones. Kaird was very personally familiar with this concept. He glanced away as a flurry of blows landed on his leader-in-name. Even had the luxury been his, he wouldn't have spared that oaf another second of his time. 

The line of Rangers was nearly within swinging distance. Kaird registered genuine fear in their eyes, save for the newcomers to the line - the horsemen showed very little in the way of any emotion. Almost as an afterthought, Kaird loosed an arrow at one of the horses. In the same motion, he drew his Lucerne and one of the small urns marked "Holy Fire." He struck a small cap on the top, igniting it, and dashed the urn towards the men at his right. A feeling of grim satisfaction crossed his mind. Those urns had scorched alive many knights in full platemail; a little leather would likely prove to be even less effective at keeping the concoction out. Gripping his hammer tightly, he let out a roar and swung at the chest of the nearest Ranger. Whether by his fire or his steel, he intended to end as many of them himself as possible.