He may not rest 'till sword's thirst is slaked

His sword, a curse and a blessing bestowed on its wielder. Once drawn, it would not allow its bearer to rest until its ravenous thirst was slaked with blood. But once foe was sighted, its eagerness would guide the bearer's hand, ensuring a quick, clean cut.

Now he had made the mistake of drawing the sword to polish and oil it while resting in the barren wilderness. That was three days ago, and he had been striding purposefully ever since, looking for someone to slay.