He was born on the eve of the Frost Star, and under its pale glow did he gain powers from the sky beyond. As a boy he was weak of body, but his mind was strong. When he sang, his voice echoed through the villages, bouncing between the valleys.

When he was a boy, he had fought against several of his older peers. Though he was weak of body and he only knew a song, he did not yield. Born in the frosts, he learnt the way of the noble bigaxe, too big for him to use, but he did not yield.

He slew frostsabres by the time he was bearded. Tattoos covered his entire body by the time he was bearded. His bigaxe lay buried in the snow, a newly smithed bigaxe by the name of Little Bone accompanied him now. Smithed in the deepest of mountain, as tall as any giant, and filled with the strength to war.

The skywyrms had already conquered the skies and the peaks of the mountains, but the boy did not yield. The boy joined his elder brother in a quest to slay the skywyrms who had brought death to their peoples and lands.

The boy met with three others, and the five had come to be known as the drakkendeath during the time of the Drakken Purge. The skywyrms had never faced a threat such as this, five warriors sneaking through their lands and killing the beasts in their nests.

The first skywyrm was Toothless Storm, a white skywyrm. It had come from the darkness, and soon fell across the Second Peak. In one generation it had run out the Icewinds, and took command of the smalldrakken between the Second Peak and the Ragged Peak.

Thousands of smalldrakken. A savage skywyrm. But he did not yield.

The smalldrakken came in droves, their bodies littered the land. Even now, the bones lay forever still, too afraid to awaken to meet the boy’s wrath. Toothless Storm came down after the ninth battle, the boy and his allies weakened from slaying a hundred smalldrakken.

Ice and thunder fell from the sky, showering the boy and his allies. The skywyrm did not fall to meet the giants, but he did not yield. The songs of the boy bound the skywyrm, causing the skywyrm to fall. With the fall of the skyworm, the boy fell upon the skywyrm with Little Bone in hand, and the skywyrm was vanquished. The smalldrakken scattered, forming under their own banners. Those with vengeance in their hearts only met Little Bone, laying dead forever more.

The boy and his companions turned the skywyrm into armour and weapons, sending the head back to their village to display for all to see.

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The second skyrwyrm was White Sky. White Sky was kin of Toothless Storm, laying claim to White River and Lone Sky Peak. It had no smalldrakken, but held mighty powers from the sky. Ice. Thunder. Lightning. The skywyrm knew little of defeat, and had come to fight with vengeance in her heart for the loss of her kin. With his companions at his side, the boy forced the creature back, Little Bone in hand. White Sky knew defeat on that day, fleeing to Lone Sky Peak.

White Sky remained on guard for time, but the boy did not yield. Step by step, day by day, storm by storm, they tread forward. White Sky flew above, raining down lightning, but he did not yield. On the peak did they meet, talons and teeth, blade and songs. Thunder rumbled throughout, and though the fight was hard fought, it was fought, and it was won.

Though she had come with vengeance in her heart, the fight had given her vengeance, for the boy had fallen. The boy’s older brother sang and returned his life, and the boy stood, Little Bone in hand, to slay the creature finally. Its body forever remains atop the Lone Sky Peak, but the mountain had crumbled.

The boy and his companions fell, but he did not yield. They had awoken for their next prey, the mighty Wing Born, the master of the sky. Their strongest opponent, a skywyrm of greatest might, but he did not yield. Wing Born had come to rule the skies from the other skywyrms, and none dared to oppose her.

Then came Sky Man, not a skyrwyrm, but a little folk. He had come from beyond the sky, and on his back were wings of feathers, and at his side was a blade, name unknown. The Sky Man joined the group, a deal struck.

Wing Born was a disaster, but it not Wing Born which threatened the boy and his companions, but a little folk, Sky Ten, who wielded ten blades, but none within his hands. Little brother to Sky Man, the two fought. With Sky Man no longer able to assist, the boy and his companions trekked forward.

The sky split, the heavens thundered, the mountains shook. Wing Born fought and fought, and the boy returned the fight. The fight did not end until Wing Born had fallen.

Then came the fourth skywyrm, Pestilence, who met his end under Little Bone and the boy, but at a heavy price.

Then came the fifth skywyrm, Death. The boy fought the beast, until he had finally fallen. Even his brother could not sing to bring him back. The boy fell with Little Bone in hand, and Death managed to flee, slaying four of the five.

First fell Ogor Redhand, wielding Mountain Slay.

Second fell Rogor Redhand, wielding Fire Fight.

Third fell Sogor Redhand, wielding Dragkkenbane.

Fourth fell Bantanam Frostborn, wielding Little Bone.

Antanam coughed up blood against the glowing runes, which turned black as they etched into the lid of the coffin. He stared down at the blood and wiped it with the remains of his shirt.

He wished he had the strength to speak of the various other wyrms and the other tales, but he had no strength to even drag himself into the fifth coffin. He stared at the other four, their lids etched with their own stories, in much greater detail.

Though he sang for his little brother, none would sing for him, and his coffin would remain forever blank. He knelt at the foot of the coffin and hung his head over it, closing his eyes. He would forever regret not turning back sooner.