Aenir and his brother, Svengir, grew up together as a part of the Seawolf Tribe on Fenris, constantly traversing the dangerous seas of the equatorial reaches of the planet. As a young pup, Aenir watched with jealous eyes, as his older brother joined in, hunting bear whenever they made landfall, and lending a steady hand whenever the nets pulled in food for a feast.
Keen to prove himself his brother's equal, despite his lesser stature, Aenir the boy threw himself into acts of increasingly wanton and careless nature, in an attempt to prove himself the greater warrior. This may not have been so bad, had his brother been of a more sage and patient nature, but he saw Aenir's efforts as being a challenge to his growing position within the pack, and a nuisance that ought to be seen to before he was usurped.
One day whilst competing in a drinking competition, Svengir slipped some Nightganger skin into his brother's ale - the effects of which should not be underestimated upon a young Wolf Cub. The young warrior passed out almost instantly, and awoke aboard a small raft in the middle of the sea, with only his older brother and a pair of fighting axes for company.
This much is known of the story, as it was later recounted by the skald, Hreidar Silvertongue, who is widely regarded as being responsible for suggesting mischievously to Svengir that a duel to the death away from the restrictions and distractions of the rest of the tribe.
The rest, however, remains a mystery that neither brother will talk about. Two days later their raft washed up on the shore of Bear Claw Spit with the two brothers sat, axes in hand, holding the head of a young kraken between them - neither of the releasing hold of their dreadful prize.
From that day forth, the two brothers held the name, 'Krakensbane', and they have both been locked in a battle to prove themselves the better warrior, and the glory of the claim of the head of the kraken.
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