The Berserker, a Servant class of warriors, driven mad and wild. Summoning and attempting to control one would be akin to attempting to tame an unpredictable beast. The greatest risk for unbridled strength, Madness Enhancement. If a Berserker's Master was not careful, it could very well eat their mind and consume them in a fit of rage and hatred. Lancelot as a Berserker was no different.

Like a miasma, Lancelot's form was shrouded by some black fog — it helped to conceal his identity. For a knight gone mad, he was still oddly skillful. On the outside, he was silently imposing; a formidable foe even to the fiercest of warriors.

"Gggghhhuuu..." a growl emanated from beneath his helm. He could not speak — too mad to do so, like a mindless rabid mutt. The Madness Enhancement took away his speech but his talents remained all the same. From behind the visor of his helm, one would assume that he was glaring down at them. In reality, he was not focused on anything or anyone in particular.

"Gggghhrr..."

So long as he did not bear witness to his King, his loyalty towards his Master's orders would remain absolute.