11 Pick Up Guide

Rolf, Benmar and the thrall had started south before dawn broke. Half an hour later, they could see the sun rising at the end of the Horizon. The nascent sun gave off an mixture of orange and purple glow as it cast long dark finger-like shadows behind large boulders that scattered the vista.

Rolf and the girl sat face to face across each other at the back of Benmar's wagon while Benmar sat at the front, reining a black mud-mare. Its hoof trotted the hard frozen ground, but the its steps were muted by a layer of thick moss.

It was a quiet morning; even the wild tundra winds carried only gentle breezes. None of the them spoke a word to each other. Making the rhythmical beat from the mare's gait the only sound on the tundra.

Rolf had glued his eyes to the girl ever since they had left camp. Unlike the barbarian girls whose faces were large and round, she had a smaller and heart-shaped face with well defined features. The harsh elements on the tundra would have carved deep lines into barbarian's face when they were as young as twelve; however, the girl in front of him had skin as smooth and even as egg shells. The girl kept her head down for most of the time, but during the occasional moments when she looked out into the distance, Rolf could catch a glimpse of her eyes; wide and wild and more blue than the sky.

As the sun raised behind the girl, Rolf tilted his head, blotting the sun light using the girl's face. Her silken hair that flowed in the wind played against the sun light and created a strange yet mesmerizing effect; all of a suddenly, she was wearing an orange and purple halo.

"She is so beautiful!" Rolf said to himself.

Rolf changed the way he sat, trying to look as imposing as possible to impress the girl but to no avail. Then he puffed out his chest, and cleared his throat, but the girl was still not interested.

Rolf was never good at this game. Confidence was the key—he was told—but even when his confidence was boosted by his killing of the Yeti, he found that he was still unattractive to the girl.

Benmar heard the commotion; he glimpsed back and found Rolf sitting in the most unnatural position: arms spread out over the back of the bench, while his chest thrust out like a cock that was ready to mount a hen. Rolf heard Benmar sneered at him under his long beard. The girl must have heard it too; she cover her mouth to suppress a giggle.

Feeling defeated and embarrassed, Rolf resorted to sit normally.

"Are you the Rat Boy?" Benmar asked.

The girl was amused by the name and she tittered again.

"My name is Rolf!" Rolf answered irritatingly and then he was quiet.

After a few long seconds, Benmar said:"OK, very good, Rolf. Now, this is when you ask me back 'what is your name, nice dwarf ?' "

"Why?" Rolf looked up at Benmar and asked hotly. A ray of sunlight escaped the girl's frame and found Rolf's eyes. Rolf squinted, making him feel even more irradiated by his defeat.

"Because that's how folks communicate outside of the tundra. If you are hoping to get a human lady-friend, you better start learning now!" Benmar said with a broad smiled and he winked at the girl. His bushy red eye brows and prominent brow ridge made his wink almost too subtle to be noticed.

Rolf watched as the girl's face softened and her lips curled into a smile.

"Ok. What is your name dwarf?" Rolf obliged.

"I am Benmar Whitebeard, son of Thygarn White beard, weapon smith of Lord Ostric Clampton, at your service, nice young lady. " After he was done, Benmar about tuned and bowed lightly to the girl. Then he shot Rolf a glance that read:"watch and learn."

Rolf cleared his throat and followed Benmar's lead:"I am Rolf—" he paused a splitting second to think about his last name and realized that he had none, and then he carried on. "Son of—whatever, young graduates of the Juvangaze at the Wolverine Tribe." Rolf should have honored Kram's name, but he didn't. Never had he wanted to be Kram's adopted son anyways.

Rolf bowed awkwardly at the girl. When Rolf looked up, she was finally looking at his face and she even managed a smile.

"My name is Orisha Tull, daughter of Jacob Tull. I am a hunter from Clearwater. I was my pleasure to meet you, Sir Benmar." Orisha bowed slightly to Benmar, but not to Rolf.

The mentioning of her father's name lit up the fire in her again. She would never bow to a barbarian after they had slaughtered her father.

"It was my pleasure." Benmar said with a warm smile.

"Such a fine lady, how come Kram will let her go?" Benmar asked Rolf curiously.

"I have no clue. He had never taken thrall during raids before. From what I heard, he had to step on Bolan's toe in order to claim her. and I know that he didn't even lay a finger on her." Rolf answered.

"Lay a finger?" Orisha thought indignantly. The moment Kram killed her father, he had destroyed her life utterly.

"Interesting", Benmar said. "What is your story, rat boy? You don't even look like a barbarian."

"My name is Rolf! R-O-L-F!" Rolf refuted hotly, but Benmar answered him with a grin.

"I don't know where I come from. Kram told me that I was raised up by Stakors. He once told everyone that my mother was a Stakor and she was rapped by a barbarian— I hope he was not the rapist. I really don't." Rolf said worriedly. He never knew who or what he was. Living among barbarians whose shortest member was half a head taller than him had made Rolf doubt his identity constantly.

Benmar cast a glance at Rolf and then said assuredly:"Trust me, kid. You are a human. I have lived many years, and never once saw a human laid with a rat-women. You might not be a barbarian, but you are definitely a human. "

"Thank you." Rolf was slightly moved by the dwarf's solace.

Kram had claimed to be Rolf's father, but he was not a father by a long chalk. When Rolf was an infant, Kram had refused to look after him, and if not for Thungo— the tribe Shaman's nourishment, Rolf would have already been dead. Thungo passed away when Rolf was five, and Rolf was forced to live with Kram and that was when his nightmare started.

Kram was a manipulative parent, if he could be called a parent at all and he had used Rolf as a slave as soon as he took the boy in. While Kram sat on his throne and barked orders at him, Rolf had to do everything around the house: making meals, cleaning his night urn, polishing armors and feeding the live stock. But the house choir wasn't the worse, the worst was Kram's constant put down. Whenever Kram was angry at Rolf, there was a sense of hatred in Kram's voice and regret in his words; it was as if Rolf was a mistake he had made long time ago with which he still couldn't come to term.

"I don't want you, no one does! I should have left you to the Stakors!" Kram often shouted those words to young Rolf. At first, Rolf would cry, but later, even his tears ran dry.

When the unwanted and unloved Rolf reached seven years old, Kram started to train him, not for repairing his life as a young barbarian, but as a ruthless murderer—although the line between the two was blur. Despite Rolf's disadvantage due to his smaller frame and weaker strength, Kram offered no encouragement and his punishment was harsh for not measuring up to his standards.

Rolf had to learn how to turn his weakness into strength very quickly. He was smaller but much faster than most barbarians. Plus, being small also came with many benefits. They might call him the "rat boy", but no barbarian could scale the wall or dodge a blow as graceful as he would.

"Don't thank me boy, you deserve better. Don't fall for Kram's sick joke. I don't know where you come from but I know of your story and I can tell you right now that half of what he said about you was BS! What an ass-hole 'father' he was!" Benmar said indignantly.

Sixteen years ago, he had heard rumors that the mercenary group Unseen was in some deep trouble. Kram was the Unseen's second in command at the time. A year later, Kram had left the group and became the new chieftain of the Wolverine tribe while the company was never to be heard of again. It was not a coincident that Kram had showed up at the Wolverine's camp with a human baby. Something must have happened that did not involve Stakor being rapped.

"So you are the old barbarian's adopted human son? Your bastard father had killed my dad!" Orisha said with a sharp voice but her gaze was even sharper when it landed on Rolf's face.

"I wish it was the other way around." Rolf said and he looked into distance, avoiding Orisha's accusatory stare.

Silence returned to the tundra once again.