The Blood Drinker

The battle-ax gleamed under the moonlight that came through the thatched roof of the chieftain's goahti.

Head poking through the thick fur hanging over the entrance, Rolf stared at the battle-ax in awe and smacked his lips uneasily. He was on an important mission tonight.

Rolf was a sixteen years old young barbarian. Chieftain Kram told everyone that Rolf was raised by Stakor in the marsh until one day he had single-handedly killed the entire Stakor camp and decided to keep Rolf, a human boy among the ratmen, as a war trophy. As Rolf grew up, the name "rat-boy" stuck with him.

Needless to say, he hated the nickname, but everyone else thought it fitted his description pretty well. Kram could have span his imaginary victory against the rat men, but no one could deny that Rolfe was the smallest sixteen years old barbarian on the tundra they had ever seen, just like a little rat.

In an average human's eyes, Rolf was of medium build. Scruffy, thick black hair covered his head with a thin but well-defined face. Although his arms were smaller compared to that of other barbarian teenagers, Rolf would not be considered weak if he was living in a civilized world.

Rolf got teased a lot by his band brothers —barbarian boys that attended the tundra equivalent of a training camp: Band of Juwungaz—for being smaller, slower and the most unbearable of all, for not yet having gained a hunting trophy.

The tundra folks had a saying that a boy was born with a bloody cord, but a barbarian man was born with a bloody trophy. It was a symbol of their maturing manhood, and without a hunting trophy, Role would forever be a boy in his peer's eyes.

Being treated like the boy was what he hated the most about his life. No one in the Juwungaz was willing to partner up with him for sparring, fearing that they would be laughed at for fighting with a 'boy.' Girls at the camp giggled and laughed at him patronizingly(sometimes with a gentle pat on the shoulder, and a smile that read: "How cute.") every time he brought them flowers. And Kram, his man that raised him pushed his button every day, calling him boy this, and boy that, "shut up, boy," "little boy knows nothing," "I'll chop your little boy cock off!", etc.

He hated every minute of it.

So, Rolf had devised an excellent plan to end his misery once for all. He had decided to steal chieftain Kram's legendary battle-ax, the Blood Drinker. With the ax, Rolf reasoned, he would finally be able to get his hunting trophy and prove his manhood and perhaps, he would even be drafted to attend this year's Karladan—a tournament among all adult barbarians on the tundra. Already, Rolf could hear the cheers of his audiences in his mind.

Rolf licked his lips nervously, all hope rest on the success of tonight's heist. He decided to take a good look at the ax, making sure no traps were laying about.

The one-handed ax was made out of a hunk of cold silver, forged by the legendary weaponsmith Simroc Steelbrew. It had a mean bite that had chopped off more heads than rocks on the tundra, hence given Kram's nickname the Decapitator. The toe and heel of the bit flared slightly, giving the sharp edge an even more deadly curve. On the cheek of the ax, Rolf saw intricate designs of engraved lines that linked and twisted, went over and under each other to form a spiral pattern. At the center of the spiral, an amber colored rune stone was embedded squarely into the metal.

"The Runestone of Uar!" Rolf screamed in his mind. Without the stone, the battle ax would just be like any other ordinary weapon, despite its exceptional craftsmanship. However, the runestone had given it a magical property and made the ax a legend among the barbarian tribes. Kram claimed that he had won it from a dwarven Vanguard in an ax throwing competition. It had indeed been a lucky day for Kram, but there and then, it was young Rolf's turn to try his luck.

Lifting the fur blanket, Rolf slid into to the Chieftain's private goahti quietly. The fire in the pit next to his feet had already died down, although it still gave off some heat—a sign that the chieftain had been in bed for a while. Across the fire pit, on an oak bed laid chieftain Kram. A girl was also laying on the ground beside the bed; a rope was tied to her wrist on one end and to the bedpost on the other. Rolf recognized her as the girl that Kram had looted from the human settlement near the Maorgwar's Marsh. She, too, was asleep. The girl was wrapped in ragged clothing, exposing half of her body under the moonlight which immediately drew Rolf's attention. Her skin was so fair that it almost seemed to be luminescent. Rolf studied her small, but firm breast and the sumptuous and womanly curves half concealed under her ragged shirt. The scene lit up a burning sensation in Rolf's mind and in between his crotch. Feeling being distracted, Rolf shook his head and looked away.

Beside the bed, he saw the weapon rack, and there on its top tier, set his ultimate price of the heist.

Holding his breath, Rolf slinked toward the weapon rack, inch by inch. If he got caught, he might as well count himself dead because stealing from any barbarian would be a death penalty, much less stealing from a chieftain.

Rolf took every step with extreme care and planning, he synchronized his footsteps with the raspy breathing of Kram, so that even the slight rustle came out under his heels would blend in with the ambient noise.

Slowly but surely, Rolf made his way to the weapon rack, and the battle-ax that was basking in the moonlight was finally at his fingertip. Rolf gently lifted the ax by its handle and was surprised by its feathery weight.

"It must be the cold silver" He reasoned.

With the ax in hand, he slowly and cautiously turned around toward the entrance, but as soon as he made a step forward, he knocked over an ale tankard on the ground that seemed to have come out of nowhere.

Rolf turned into a bundle of nerve by the sudden loud clank, and he tensed up as fear shot through his body.

He then heard Kram yelling like a demon: "I'll feed your boy dick to the dogs you little prick!"

The shout almost made Rolf drop the ax. Mind overtaking with fear, Rolf shuttered and thought that was the end of his life.

Trembling uncontrollably, Rolf turned around to face his doom while pleaded for his life quietly and helplessly.

"I'm...sorry. I'm so —"

When he finally saw Kram, Rolf was shocked to find out that Kram's eyes were still closed —he must have been dreaming.

Still seized by terror, and was unsure if he was safe, Rolf decided to stand still in the darkness until he was confident that he had not been detected.

To overcome his nervousness, Rolf scanned the room, trying to distract his distressed mind. He focused his attention on the numerous toughies, big and small, on the wall. An ice giant's toe, a necklace made out of a basilisks' feathers, a couple of severed heads of moon bears and ice boars, and there were still more that were larger and more hideous lurking in the shadow.

Kram was a formidable barbarian lord, every trophy on the wall was a testament to his extraordinary fighting skills. To be the chieftain meant that he was the most powerful among his tribesmen, and these trophies served a grim reminder to those who thought it was otherwise.

After a few moments, he heard Kram started to snore, so Rolf figured that he was safe and started to back his way out of the room.

When he finally stepped out of the goahti, and before he lowered the curtain, he caught a glimpse of the girl's face. She was awake and was looking at him, sorrow and fear flicker in her eyes. Rolf paused for a second as a sense of pity and guilt rose inside of him. Then he dropped the curtain and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Rolf had been tracking this snow Yeti for over a few months, and he had located its lair up on a hill, hidden among tall blue spruce trees. Even though Rolf had the battle-ax in his hand, he was extremely cautious and had deployed all the hunter skills he had learned from Kram. He methodically approached the lair from the downwind direction so that the beast would not be disturbed by his scent. He found a set of footprints right outside of the cave, an indication that his host was home.

"So far so good." Rolf thought as a smirk crept on to his face.

He tossed the battle-ax from one hand to the other as he was preparing his mind for what's inside the cave.

"I'll put you to good use tonight," Rolf muttered, and then he stepped into the icy lair of the monster.