He's used to this. He's been here since he was around 4 if he remembers correctly. He doesn't have a name because he can't remember it. All he knows how to do is hold a sword (albeit poorly) and fight.
So he does. He fights.
As he looks down at the boy on the mud-packed ground in front of him he wonders what would have happened if he hadn't been brought here. He brushes away the thought and lets his far too large sword drop as he lifts his little fist up in the air in triumph.
The raiders' cheers roar throughout the crowd.
The cheers soon turned to yells. An enemy(?) group had invaded the camp and had already killed a fourth of the men.
At some point, a bandit had picked back up the boy's sword and shoved it back into his hands with a simple muttering of "Fight." And so he did. He fought.
He killed indiscriminately, it didn't matter if it was the invading group or the raiders who stole him as a child.
Soon a circle of corpses surrounded him. The forest clearing reeked of death as the bandits had been slaughtered. A man, tall and broad with a multitude of scars covering his heavily toned body, walked up to him,
"Damn kid, ya killed all these?" the man said
He nodded his head
The man leaned down to look at the boy "Silent type, eh?"
"I like you kid, how 'bout you join my gang? We got dental insurance and such. What's your name? Ah wait, I should probably introduce myself first. Name's Abel." the man continued as he held out his hand.
"Dun't hav' one"
Abel put his hand up to his goatee in thought, "Yer name's Kuff, with a K 'cause of those cuffs yer wearing. Ya sound like a 4-year-old so we'll have Rilas teach ya, he's the only one who knows how to read and write. How old are you?"
The boy, no, Kuff raised up nine fingers.
"We got some work cut out for us, eh?"