The progeny of Ogre and Orc, at least so he was told, Drakul was abandoned to an orphanage from infancy. His savage origins invited more beatings than the average bastard, so he ended up a street urchin by his fifth birthday. Charity was uncommon due to his monstrous ancestry, so his survival depended on his ability to sneak, break in, steal, run, and hide, skills he developed the hard way—lots of failure.

For years, Drakul believed the gods were apathetic or powerless, since no holy order saw fit to help his situation, so he didn’t bother trying to follow any of their rules. Not exactly bitter over the negligence, he found himself playing pranks on local clergy whenever he was given the chance. He was caught and “taught a lesson” more times than he could remember, but the one time he was shown mercy changed his life.

He thought the man was just another cleric of some foreign god visiting his city, but he unwittingly tried to prank a devotee of Loki. Instead of beating him senseless, the Nordlonder praised his attempt and gave him some pointers. Flabbergasted that any god would praise trickery, Drakul decided that the frozen north was the place to be. He honed his skills for a few more years before setting out on a trek to the homeland of his new trickster god.