Harold. It was not the best of names. But it was a name! Harold had thought hed never get a name.

He still remembered the heat and fire as his own father branded him a cowerd. Refusing to name him and worse stealing his voice with fire and hate.

He had driften from slum to slum. No one to name him. Beaten. Spit on. He almost died today trying to leave the city.

He watched the young girl who had given him his name. Who had saved him. Who had been the only one to show him kindness in two years.

He was sad though. He knew he would have to leave. Knew he would not be accepted in this home. So he watched glumily as the girl tried to avoid punishment from her father.

He did not understand most of the words used. He could understand bits and peices of the conversation, enough to get the gist.

He sat and pondered he had a name! A name. What wonder it was to have a name. It was a bad name but a name none the less.

He could here the girl trying to surpress her cries as she met her mortal enemy the spoon, but ultimately failed after about 10 or 20 minutes.

He did not hear the father aprouch and was startled when he heard the man speak in perfect ordeam

"Harold is it?"

Harold just looked at the man slackjawed and it took him a whole minute to nod a yes to the man.

"Good. so we have some things to discuss."

Harolds heart sank. This was were the man would kick him out of his home. He was ready to leave. To run if need be.

"Can you lift heavy things?"

Huh? This was not what harold has expected. He hesitantly noded a yes at the man.

"If I asked you to help my duaghter would you?"

Harold was again taken back. He nodded even more hestitantly and now with burgeoning hope in his heart. He tried to stuff it down. He knew it would just hurt him in the end.

It always hurt him in the end.

"Well then last question. Do you like fish soup?" The man said in a mockingly serious tone.

Harold had no time to process what was going on. One second he was sitting on the dusty floorboards of the houses stairway. The next he was sitting in a sparse kitchen a bowl of soup in front of him.

To his front sat an older catlinè, his hair peppered with spots of gray. He wore a dusty old cloak and his hands had a perfect balance to them that harold only seen in the best warriors of his old tribe.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He could tell that the man was a warrior. His posture. The careful way he observed his sourdings to even the way he ate spoke to that fact.

The site beside him was..... less impressive. A young girl who had to stand becuase of pain, squirming in place as she ate from her uncomfortable position.

"So allow me to introduce us. I am derèl and as you have already been introduced. This is my duaghter Kitty."

Harold choked on his food. Soup dripping down his chin.

Kitty!? He thought Harold was bad, he felt nothing but pity in that moment for the small child. He was glad his name had come from.... kitty? No he needed a better name for her.

Kate? No, that sounded to bland. How about kith? That did not work either!

Kit. That worked, her name was now and forever kit in his mind. It was a good name. Nay a better more respectable name. A name suited to someone who has saved his life.

"Whats wrong?" Derèl asked a look of concern. Concern for him? That almost mare him choke again.

He quickly shook his head and started gulping down soup as fast as he could. Any more shocks to his being and he might be killed by fish soup.

"Well. Thats good then. Tomorrow well go get you some clothes and get you seen by a healer. I have some understanding of the customs of your species. "

He puased to eat a spoon full of soup before continuing.

"So, I know a healer wont cure your muteness. We can at least heal some of the damage though."

After they finished eating Derèl orderd his duaghter to show Harold were they would be sleeping. She offered him the cot but he refused. She had already done so much for him! Sleeping on the floors was literally the least he could do to pay her back.

As he slept he wondered if he would wake up to find this all a dream.

Congratulations for surviving a mob you have gained one level in your survivalist class. [Tough skin] obtained!

Name: Harold.

Race: Orkeria

Clases: [ silent warrior] [Survivalist]

Race skills: [enhanced strength] [dark vision] [enhanced reflexes] [enhanced appitite] [enhanced emotions] [senstivity]

Silent warrior: level 4

Skills: [power strike] [crushing blows] [silent dash]

Survivalist: level 3

Skills: [natures bounty] [resistance: poison] [Tough skin]

....... two years later.

Harold watched Kit try to lift a heavy box of potions. She had been exorcize for over a year now and it had been a fruitless endevor. Catlinè devoloped muscle slower then any other race or at least thats what her father had told her when she started.

She turned towards him with a look of defeat etched on her face.

"Can you get this for me?"

Harold sighned back "yes" as he had been tuaght by kit. He hadn't learned all of the sighn language as she had called it but had at least figured out the basics.

He lifted the box one handed and gave her smug smirk. The box wasnt even that heavy. She returned his smugness with a glare but the ork payed her no mind.

They made there way to the market were kit would trade her potions in for coin. Harold had almost fainted at how much money she got.

She would get a whole 4 Seveà a week! That was more money then Harold had earned in his life... at least before hed net kit.

Now he earned 2 seveà a week in exchange for his help.

Apparently alchemist was a rare class though especially for a child of kits age. Though Harold did not know the specifics behind the information.

As they rounded the corner Harold noticed a group of boys eyeing him. Most people had grown use to his presence. Even then there were always those looking to make trouble.

What Harold found weird was that he had never seen this group of boys before.

"I noticed them too Harold. Don't make any moves until they actually attack. " she ordered him and Harold shrugged.

His heart though beat with exitement. He knew he was going to get to fight.