Drauf’s story began in the cold forests of Scandinavia around 750 AD. No one knows who his parents were—he was left to die as a baby, alone in the wilderness. But the wolves found him. They raised him as one of their own, teaching him to hunt, survive, and live by instinct. It was a brutal life, but it was the only one he knew.

Eventually, hunters found him. He wasn’t a child anymore, but a wild thing—fast, strong, and barely human. It took a group of them to bring him down. They dragged him back to civilization and made him a slave, using his strength for hard labor. It nearly broke him.

Then the raiders came. In the chaos, Drauf broke free and joined them. He learned their ways—how to fight with steel, sail the seas, and make his own fate. The wild boy became a warrior.

By his twenties, Drauf had earned a name and a place in the world. The people who once feared him now respected him. He had a home, a community, even a kind of peace.

But peace never sat right with Drauf. The wilderness still whispered to him. After gaining the elders’ blessing, he left again, chasing the wind and something he couldn’t name.

He wandered for years, sometimes returning to visit—until those he knew grew old or passed on. Home became a memory he couldn’t face.

So he kept moving. A legend now, a ghost in the forests and hills. Some say they’ve seen him—part man, part myth, still listening for the call of the wild.