Black Wolf
patreon
ADS 31
🕑 Added 2025-04-10 18:55:03 +0000 UTCChapter 31: How To Tame Your Dragon
Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF Universe and all recognizable characters, plots belong to GRRM. I have no ownership to it.
93 AC, 2 weeks later
Dragonstone
Daemon Snow
I groaned as I entered my room for the first time in two weeks, that I have rented at an inn in the port of Dragonstone. I collapsed onto the straw bed—it was a mild improvement over the cold, hard ground I'd been sleeping on.
It had taken me nearly three days just to regain consciousness, and another full day before I could even move my body. Remembering it was as horrifying as actually experiencing it, but my mind went back to the day I woke up.
"Thank you, Meleys," I whispered, gazing down at the burns and the aftermath. The muscles in my thighs had almost completely wasted away, and in some places, blackened, scarred bone was visible. At least the broken bones had already healed, and they felt stronger than before.
I hadn’t had food or water, and somehow, unconsciously, I’d drawn energy from the various bonds I shared with animals. I realized several of those bonds had vanished—dead. I had drained them, just like the Night King did with his wights.
At first, I hadn’t noticed it, but there was a deep connection between me and Fenrir—one that allowed energy to flow between us. If Fenrir ate more than he needed, that excess sustained me, and vice versa. I’d never noticed the bond’s true depth until I saw Fenrir heal from a bear attack, even without me sharing my blood.
I had made sure to tell him: if he ever felt our connection begin to fade when I was unconscious, he should eat more than necessary. Clearly, he had listened. Despite being unconscious for three days and on the brink of death, I neither felt thirst nor hunger. I knew Fenrir had followed through.
Lying on the bed, I slipped into the minds of my animals stationed in Dragonstone, trying to understand what had happened in my absence.
Apparently, the disappearance of the two guards had been blamed on the dragons—it had happened before. Two others had already volunteered to take their place, lured by the promise of gold. This time, there was even some hazard pay offered. I grinned in relief. At least I now had something to offer Cannibal, or a bargaining chip if I ever needed to escape.
====================
It took me another week after I was back to perfect health, to gather the courage to face the climb—and the dragon—again. When I finally reached the summit, I hid behind the rocks and threw the corpse of one of the dead guards to Cannibal. The dragon had already sensed my presence but didn’t react beyond shifting its head to swallow the body whole in one massive bite.
I shouted in High Valyrian, “Oh great Cannibal, I am Daemon Snow, great-great-grandson of Aegon the Conqueror, rider of Balerion the Black Dread!”
Through my senses, I felt nothing but cold indifference—until I said the name Balerion. Then, the dragon let out a low, irritated growl. I pressed on.
“I want to be on good terms with you,” I said, stepping toward the entrance of the cave.
Suddenly, that same bone-deep fear gripped me again, freezing me in place. But this time, I was ready. I broke free from its hold after a few minutes. Cannibal snorted in surprise, and for the first time, moved his head outside the cave. He took a deep breath—I could feel the shock rolling off him. He hadn’t expected me to survive his last attack.
But the surprise didn’t last long. I felt his indignation—how dare I survive? Then came the Fire.
This time, it was even brighter—a vivid, emerald green—and Cannibal was faster. Much faster. The flame struck me with brutal force, engulfing me completely and blasting me off the mountain once more. I fell the 400 meters down to the ground again.
I groaned in frustration, feeling like Team Rocket from that old Pokémon series I used to watch as a kid in my past life.
The only saving grace was that I had already numbed myself to pain before reaching the summit. This time, my bones didn’t shatter outright—but they were broken in several places. Still, it was the burns that hurt the most. Even with my adaptation and boosted fire resistance, Cannibal’s enhanced magical flames had done almost as much damage as last time.
“Fucking hell… this is going to take time,” I muttered as I lay on the ground, waiting for my bones to begin healing again.
================================
2 Moons Later.
I had gone back four times over the past two moons, and now the knight in charge of Dragonstone was growing increasingly suspicious about the disappearance of the poor fools who had volunteered for this job. The queen had been informed, but she wasn’t in the mood to care about missing smallfolk—especially not when it concerned carrying out an order issued by her kingly husband. She told the knight to either stop the operation altogether or do whatever he could to find a solution. She didn’t care about a few missing guards, when guarding a beast like cannibal was foolishness at best.
The knight responded by positioning the next pair of guards farther back from the path—almost at the edge of the forest. Even that spot was still far enough from prying eyes, giving me room to do what I needed.
During all my previous visits, I had never used my warg abilities—I was too uncertain and afraid how Cannibal would react. Until now, I’d been nothing more than a minor annoyance to the beast, a convenient source of meat. But I was almost certain that if I tried to enter its mind, everything would change. Cannibal, by the last visit, had grown bored of me entirely. I had even survived the fall without taking any damage. Still, the dragonfire remained a threat—even now, it could burn through my resistance easily. My current limit was about thirty seconds in the flames before they began to truly hurt me.
But this time, I had made up my mind. I was confident I could survive any fall now, and so I was ready to use my warg powers for the first time.
I had already planned my escape. I had identified the easiest path toward Sheepstealer’s cave and intended to lead Cannibal there. Once both dragons were in proximity, it wouldn’t take much to spark a fight between them—and in the chaos, I would slip away.
============================
I hid behind the opening leading to the summit, feeling the dragon’s boredom ripple through my senses as it sensed my presence once again. I picked up one of the dead guards and hurled the body toward the cave. Cannibal didn’t hesitate—he devoured the offering with casual ease, satisfied, his massive form slightly relaxing.
That was the moment I acted.
Drawing on all my strength, I reached out with my warg powers and plunged into the dragon’s mind. It felt like falling through green fire—searing, alien, alive.
A deafening roar exploded from the cave, so loud it made the very mountain tremble.
I was inside Cannibal’s mind—and it was furious. I felt its wrath like a storm. A mental avatar of the dragon surged forward to meet my intrusion. Its green eyes blazed with malice, intelligence, and pure, unfiltered rage. This wasn’t like Balerion. There were no words, no cryptic thoughts—only raw hostility.
Instinct screamed that if the flames hit me, they wouldn’t just burn—they would erase me, mind and soul. I fled, tearing myself free of the dragon’s mind. But the fire chased me—bleeding through the connection. My mental palace ignited in emerald flames.
But I wasn’t unprotected. The black flame- I copied from Black Dread all those years ago, that surrounded my mental Winterfell, absorbed the brunt of the inferno, saving my life again. I was singed, but not broken.
I gasped and opened my eyes.
For the first time, I saw Cannibal in all its terrible glory as it emerged fully from the cave. Its burning green eyes locked onto mine, and I swallowed hard, paralyzed by its presence. Before it could even take another step, I threw myself off the cliff—again. In my hand was the body of the second guard, meant to increase my falling speed.
But Cannibal was heavier, faster, and far more experienced in the air. With a single flap of its wings, it was already closing the gap. I could see the malicious amusement on its face—the gleeful anticipation of playing with its food.
I knew I wouldn’t reach the treeline in time. It would swallow me whole in mid-air, before I reached there.
Desperate, I hurled the second body at its face with all the strength I could muster. The dragon wasn’t expecting it. The corpse hit with a sickening splatter—blood, bone, and gore exploding across its face and momentarily blinding it.
Reflexively, it beat its wings to avoid the projectile, and again when the gore obscured its vision.
That was all the time I needed.
I hit the ground hard, rolled to absorb the impact, and surged to my feet, already sprinting. I ran faster than ever before—faster than I thought possible. The ground blurred beneath me, dust and leaves kicking up with every step. I knew I would be almost a blur in normal eyes by the speed I am going. From the sky above, I caught glimpses through my birds’ eyes—the dragon was pursuing me, a monstrous shadow gliding just above the treetops.
I felt a grin in my face as excitement and adrenaline rushed in me unlike any time before as I tried to escape a grisly death.
This was madness, yes—but it was also exhilarating!!
===========
For ten minutes, I ran for my life as the dragon raged behind me, crashing through the forest, setting trees ablaze in its wake. But at last, I reached the cavern.
The lair of Sheepstealer.
I had already confirmed it was inside, before engaging with Cannibal. I didn’t hesitate. With one final breath, I severed all my animal connections—except for Fenrir—and launched a mental assault at Sheepstealer’s mind.
I expected another blast of fire, another monstrous avatar like Balerion’s or Cannibal’s and I was surprised as I didn’t see anything similar in Sheepstealer’s mind.
It was somehow lesser than the two dragons.
Sheepstealer’s mind was different. Not passive—but cold, calculating, aware. It was intelligent, far more sophisticated than a common animal. It didn’t respond with mental avatar’s of wrath or flames, but it fought back fiercely. It wasn’t like dominating an animal—it was more like struggling against another human will. I might have won if I’d been prepared for this kind of resistance, but my surprise cost me.
Still, I managed to plant the seed of a command as per my plan to make sure of my survival:
Attack. Attack. Attack Cannibal.
No roar. No grand response. Sheepstealer simply emerged from its cave.
Cannibal noticed the movement and growled in warning—but dismissed it just as quickly, returning its attention to the hunt.
Cannibal advanced with smug arrogance, certain that I was within reach.
But its smugness evaporated in an instant.
At the last second, it veered to avoid Sheepstealer’s claws and fire. The ambush had worked.
With a roar that made my ears ring and the trees tremble, Cannibal turned and met Sheepstealer’s attack head-on.
As the two dragons clashed, wings and teeth and fire colliding in a frenzy of violence, I turned and ran—grinning.
I had done it. I had survived. For now.
======================================
That night, I slipped into the cavern where Sheepstealer had taken refuge. The sight that greeted me was pitiful.
I had watched the fight through my birds, seen every blow exchanged, every flame cast. The only real damage Sheepstealer managed to inflict on Cannibal was a tear across the wing membrane—caused more by the initial surprise attack and the dragon’s partial blindness from the gore I had flung earlier than any true might.
He had fled, half-gliding, half-falling toward Dragonmont, toward the ancient roosts of the Targaryen dragons. Cannibal had halted his pursuit only when the proximity of other dragons made the chase too dangerous. Now, in the silence of night, I found Sheepstealer curled deep inside one of the abandoned caverns—wounded, breathing raggedly, his wing limp and scorched.
Knowing that the dragon will die without some care and if it was dead my own chance of escaping cannibal would be hard, I was here.
I crept closer.
The dragon stirred. Remaining one massive eye opened, glowing faintly in the dark. It growled a low, guttural warning, the sound vibrating through the stone beneath my feet.
I didn’t speak. Instead, I projected calm, pushing soothing emotions toward it—wordless images of healing, safety, recovery. The dragon snorted, dismissive and bitter. I could feel it then—its sorrow. A deep, dragging weight. It knew it would never fly again. Even with help. The loss of freedom, the sheer indignity of being earthbound, was so sharp I felt it scrape against my own heart.
Sheepstealer let out another growl when I reached toward its head, but there was no fire. It didn’t have the strength. All of its energy was going into staying alive.
I didn’t hesitate. I drew a knife and slashed across my left wrist, severing an artery.
Blood sprayed, hot and fast, across the dragon’s scaled snout. I stepped forward and pressed my hand toward its mouth. The dragon hesitated—but the moment my blood hit its tongue, something shifted. Its eyes widened. It tasted the magic in me.
Then it drank. Not with hunger, but with understanding.
Immediately, I felt the bond begin to form—unbidden, instinctual. The dragon’s essence reaching out to entwine with mine. A link of spirit and soul. But I didn’t want Sheepstealer. I wanted Cannibal.
So I rejected the bond.
Pain flared in both of us. Sheepstealer recoiled, snarling in rage and agony at the sudden severance. His jaws snapped shut, almost taking my arm with them.
“Oh, fuck you!” I shouted, stumbling back as he roared at the ceiling.
I barely managed to dive out of the cavern before he could lunge again.
Breathing hard, blood still dripping from my wrist, I sprinted into the shadows.
That had been too close.
And I had just made a very wounded, very proud dragon even angrier.
=================
It took a full month before Sheepstealer could fly again.
Every day during that time, I returned to the cavern, bringing sheep by the dozen, drenched in my blood to speed the healing. It was exhausting, painful, and increasingly risky, but I endured. I had use for Sheepstealer yet—and I needed him strong.
By then, everyone on Dragonstone knew something strange was happening with the wild dragons. Rumors spread of missing guards, distant roars, scorched cliffs, and the sight of dragons clashing in the night sky. But the queen, in her cold detachment, dismissed it all as irrelevant. She was too busy nursing her hatred against The King when she was not mourning her lost children, to care about wild beasts. And because she did not care, the people of Dragonstone court did not care—and no word of it ever reached the ears of the Old King. He was far more busy handling the aftermath of ‘Death of the Dragon’.
====================================
95 AC
It had been nearly two years.
And today marked my hundredth attempt to tame Cannibal.
As always, it ended in failure.
By now, even Cannibal's lowest flames barely harmed me. Only the most intense, focused bursts had any real effect—and even those required effort from the beast. Energy. Intention. Cannibal had learned, just as I had. He knew I would lead him toward Sheepstealer if he gave chase. By the thirtieth time, it became a pattern. A game. And Cannibal didn’t like games he couldn’t win. It also noticed, just as I had, that Sheepstealer was growing stronger with each encounter.
By the tenth attempt, no one on Dragonstone dared to take the guard post, and I lost access to my offerings. Though Cannibal was irritated by the loss, I managed to escape as usual.
I tried everything—luring, baiting, submission, mental domination, emotional projection. I pushed myself deeper into his mind than I ever had with any beast, even at risk of burning my soul in green fire again. And still… Cannibal would not bond. Each time, I was thrown out. Rejected. Reviled.
I had no idea what I was doing wrong.
In desperation, I turned to the weirwoods. I dove into the memory of Dragonstone itself through greenseeing—searching for answers, for some hidden key.
I was shocked to discover that Cannibal had been here even before the Doom.
I was in awe of its longevity, but its lack of growth was perplexing. Over the years, it hadn’t grown much at all, allowing Balerion, Vermithor, and Vhagar to outsize it—even when they were younger.
Once, I spied on a meeting between Balerion and Cannibal, where they exchanged roars and even fire. But I couldn’t watch for more than a minute, as both dragons suddenly turned and breathed fire in my direction—as if they sensed someone was watching. I barely escaped with my life and mind intact.
I wondered whether I should just give up on cannibal. It was getting boring trying to do it again and again. The only thing that made it bearable was the slow but steady improvement to my body. Pain wasn’t the issue—my pain dampening saw to that—but the monotonous repetition was infuriating.
Sheepstealer, on the other hand, had been strengthened by my blood and his more than two dozen battles with Cannibal. He had survived near-death more times than I could count. He had wanted to bond with me from the very beginning, and I knew I could accept that offer at any time.
By my calculations, Sheepstealer could even challenge Vhagar now. But that would be the quitter’s choice—and I am no quitter.
Moreover, after spending so much time inside both Cannibal’s and Sheepstealer’s minds, I understood something clearly: Cannibal was simply… more. Where other dragons were simply more than beasts, Cannibal was something else. He wasn’t just power. He was age. Memory. And I wanted the best possible dragon as mine.
The erratic behavior of both dragons had finally reached King’s Landing. I knew Baelon—or even Daemon—would soon be sent to investigate, especially with the Queen continuing to ignore every order from the King. My time was running out. I needed a miracle.
A miracle?
Suddenly, an idea struck me. For this, I would need the other wild dragon—Grey Ghost.
=============================
It was the 101st attempt. I had already used warging to command Grey Ghost. Constant fight with Cannibal had honed my warging and Grey Ghost was not powerful enough to go against my planted orders.
Now, Sheepstealer—who once fled from Cannibal’s shadow—knew that fighting it would only make it stronger. When I planted the command to attack, it welcomed the challenge. The only part left was mine—drawing Cannibal out of its cavern and making it attack me.
As always, Cannibal knew I was there. And as always, it ignored me like a pest. After so many attempts, the dragon no longer saw me as a threat. It had learned that trying to eat me was useless. Sometimes it ignored me, other times it pretended to sleep, or gave half-hearted chases to mock me.
I usually just talked—only attempting to bond at the end. But today, there was neither gentleness, nor calmness.
“Cannibal, I’m tired of this,” I shouted in Valyrian. “If we don’t bond today, this will be the last time!”
The dragon snorted and closed its eyes, utterly unimpressed.
I was enraged by that disrespect. I summoned my power. Closing my eyes, I steeled my will. I entered my mental palace of Winterfell. I had tried to control the black flames before, the ones I had seen in Black Dread—but even now in mental realm, I couldn’t fully command them. I could, at least, make my hands burn with them. I shaped the burning hands into fists, gathering all my mental strength.
I remembered the piercing strike the Night King had made with his sword simultaneously with his mental attack which enhanced the attack so much. I had crafted a dragonglass knife based on that attack—brittle, but infused with magic using my blood, potent enough to pierce even through the magical durability of a dragon. I had tested it on my own skin.
I cut a wound into my left palm and smeared the blood on the dragonglass blade.
My preparation was complete and I moved—physically and mentally—using everything I had.
The moment the knife pierced Cannibal’s scale and vanished into his flesh—taking half my fist with it due to the sheer force behind it—my mental avatar’s hand, cloaked in copied black flame, pierced the dragon’s mind.
The dual assault hit simultaneously. Both the physical and mental forms of Cannibal roared in pain and fury.
His slumber vanished as he reared back, jaws snapping toward me while I could feel heat gathering as Cannibal prepared to breathe fire. He knew his lesser flames would be useless against me.
I immediately retreated—both body and mind—and leapt out of the cavern.
I dodged to the side as Cannibal’s jaws closed in on where I had stood moments before. Lightning fast, the Dragon head moved backwards and a blast of immense green flame engulfed the space I had just moved to making me jump to side again.
And then—Sheepstealer struck.
Descending from above, he raked his claws across Cannibal’s massive back. Where once those claws had broken against his scales, now they left deep scratches. Boiling black blood splattered the earth.
A roar—full of rage and agony—burst from Cannibal, the sound so loud it shattered my eardrums. A terrifying magical presence surged from him, freezing me in place.
I had overcome this presence in my third attack, but this attack was nothing like that. It was unyielding and a terrifying power that wanted to burn, burn and burn everything again, but the Sheepstealer being a dragon and it broke out of the freezing aura. It gave Cannibal enough time to take flight.
And so, the Dance of Dragons began in earnest.
It was beautiful. And utterly horrifying. The air trembled with shockwaves from the heat from the flames. Firestorms clashed against each other and even with two years of my blood adapting and making it powerful, SheepStealer’s flames barely managed to counter Cannibal’s.
Then I saw it—a chunk of Sheepstealer’s belly meat fell to the ground near me.
He was going to die.
Whatever strength he’d gained from me, it was nothing compared to Cannibal. Sheepstealer realized it too. He broke away and tried to flee.
I ran after them. The moment my feet touched the treetops, I was moving above them—my speed letting me race across the canopy without breaking it.
I saw Sheepstealer flying away, trying to escape, but Cannibal almost caught him—until Grey Ghost attacked from above. The massive wounds left by Sheepstealer were torn open further by Grey Ghost's claws and teeth. Immediately, Sheepstealer turned and slashed at Cannibal, ripping open its stomach and trying to bite at Cannibal’s neck
But Cannibal was not a dragon that could be defeated so easily. It twisted its neck just in time, and Sheepstealer never got a firm grip. I saw Cannibal’s jaws open, and fire—unlike anything I had ever seen—spewed forth upwards at Grey Ghost. The flame was a dark green, so deep it was almost black. Even from hundreds of meters away, I felt the searing heat in my skin and burning my body through all my resistances. I watched in horror as one of Grey Ghost's wings was consumed by the flames and turned to ash instanly.
Grey Ghost, still above Cannibal, roared in agony and fell—crashing into both Cannibal and Sheepstealer.
By now, Sheepstealer had sunk its jaws into Cannibal’s upper chest, and its claws shredded through one of Cannibal's wings. As all three dragons plummeted through the air, Cannibal twisted its head down and unleashed another blast of that black-green fire directly at Sheepstealer. The dragon, having seen what that flame could do, disengaged and beat its wings to flee—but the fire was faster.
The flames engulfed Sheepstealer completely. I saw with horror as not one, but two layers of dragonscale were burned away. Sheepstealer’s pained roar echoed through the sky as she struggled to slow her fall. Her wing membranes were now paper-thin, scorched to a crisp along with the several muscles and scales. She looked like a walking anatomy sketch—muscles without skin—except many of her muscles were already reduced to ash.
With an earth-shaking crash, all three dragons slammed into the forest, crushing trees beneath them and igniting a fire from the burning bodies. Cannibal took the brunt of the impact, along with the weight of Grey Ghost crashing down on him.
Within seconds, I reached the clearing and saw them. Sheepstealer saw me and whined—half in pain, half in hope. I saw Grey Ghost breathing his last... and then the burning, hateful eyes of Cannibal.
I see the sorry state of the cannibal as it couldn’t even breath fire at me because of his overuse of the hottest fire. The plan was simple. I wanted Cannibal to be injured beyond anything, to offer him healing while bonding with him. Sheepstealer wanted to bond with me when I healed him the first time and I wanted to recreate it with Cannibal.
I took a step toward him—but a pitiful whimper from Sheepstealer stopped me. By now, our friendship was strong. Even though I sometimes thought of her as my pet, I realized she probably saw me as hers—a strange little healing creature/pet she’d grown fond of. It felt like having a massive, scarred, winged cat. And I loved that as it helped me to not miss my direwolf Fenrir. I looked back at Sheepstealer and I could see that it was at Death’s door.
I looked at Cannibal, saw he would survive for now, and went back to Sheepstealer. I fed her my blood. She growled softly in relief as it began healing her burns, then slipped into unconsciousness. I saw the worst of the damage was healing—she was safe, at least for now.
Then I turned to Cannibal. I grinned savagely and muttered,
“Well, well... how far the mighty have fallen.”
I could hear the grinding of shattered bones as he tried to move—tried to bite me—but it was useless. The weight of Grey Ghost along with his own injuries pinned him down.
"Now, now," I said, stepping closer. “I could heal you, my dragon,” I added possessively, “but we will be bonded.”
Cannibal didn’t reject me as usual and taking it as agreement, I pulled out a second dragonglass knife and sliced a line across the artery of my left arm. Blood poured freely as I approached. I held out my bleeding hand and pressed it into Cannibal’s mouth. The moment my blood touched his tongue, I felt a shift—his mind stirring. I tried to breach the mental barrier I had touched before, to forge the bond.
But before I could reach that familiar breach, the damned beast moved.
With a sickening snap, Cannibal clamped his jaws down—biting clean through my arm just below the shoulder.
The pain was blinding. I screamed in fury as Cannibal opened his jaws again, ready to swallow me whole. A wave of pure rage surged through me as I realized the damned beast’s trap. I had one chance to achieve what I want and even save my own life.
Fueled by adrenaline and fury, I hurled my mind into his with a single, desperate command:
STOP!
Something snapped in my mind—everything around me froze.
Blood burst from my eyes, ears, and nose. My body gave out, overtaxed by the sheer strain of projecting my will into the dragon’s mind.
The last thing I heard before loosing consciousness was the words in my mind,
“You are the most arrogant, foolishly stubborn two- legged dragonling I have ever had the misfortune to meet. I should have ended my life with the glorious battle against the Black Shadow rather than face this indignity of being bonded with a puny human.”
=============================
Authors note: Finally daemon has his dragon… every targ or mc or si claiming dragons left, right and centre has been cliché for too long. I want it to change and when my own planned dragonlore gave me a chance I ran with it. hope everyone enjoyed this one!!!
Read, commend and recommend!!!!
I know grey ghost was far smaller even in dance time, but here it is large enough to atleast make a difference when Cannibal is already injured drastically by Sheep Stealer.
Next chapter within two days!!!!
Comments
the batman
well lets see what cannibal has to say about sheepstealer.... as for evolution lets see what happenes...
the batman
1. yes.. lore will be further expanded..... cannibal can talk after all... true dragon ? lets see and what do u consider true dragon... 2. one doesn't actually slap a 60 year old weak queen and get away with it... and alysanne actually got some slapping from someone she never expected.. old king slaming the fact that she never supported aerea and now supoorting rhaenys actually made her angry and sad.. she is almost broken with aemon dying and other things.. 3. haven't i mentioned anywhere??? balerion died as per canon... will add something in next chapter or later on.
the batman
thanks!!!! lets hope it will keep that way
evilperson41
Great chapter, I’m highly enjoying the path your taking for this story.
TyrantGod
1) Are Balerion & Cannibal considered true dragons? Will you expound more on different dragon types 2) Will Alysanne face slapping happen soon? 3) Is old Balerion still alive?
KickedElm0
You kbow you can use SheepStealer as Cannibal mate she wouldn't leave him so easy and would follow also now if they have drinked they mc blood they can envolve to true dragon and from there to Wyrn and then to final form Ancient Great Wyrm. P.S. i think i write it corretly Wyrm or worm was it
