Vrykul society was brutally hierarchical, where only the strongest and most formidable warriors earned universal respect and leadership. Ymiron, an ambitious king, unfortunately reigned during the insidious spread of the Curse of Flesh.
Ymiron had declared to his people: "Vrykul! The gods have forsaken us! Even in our darkest hour, they mock our suffering! Where were they when we desperately needed the Titans' guidance? Our clans birth deformed offspring, grotesque and weak, burdens upon our strength! Since I claimed the throne, I have pondered the source of our hardship. There is but one answer, one malevolent force. Who else but the Titans could inflict such a vile curse upon us? Who else wields such power? None! The Titans have cursed us! Today, we sever our ties to the false gods of the past! We abolish their worship! The Vrykul will pledge allegiance to King Ymiron! Ymiron will protect us! My first decree: all deformed Vrykul infants shall be executed at birth! We must preserve the purity of our bloodline!"
(Reasonable crashout, most immortals do go insane)
Driven by a desperate desire to maintain the Vrykul's strength, Ymiron made tragic choices, abandoning faith in the Titans and callously disregarding the pleas of parents by ordering the execution of their "deformed" children. His limited perspective, a consequence of their history, was a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. As the first generation of stone Vrykul exiled by the Titan Watchers, they were adrift, lacking the knowledge to combat the encroaching curse. The very beings they might have turned to were embroiled in their own internal conflicts, abandoning, betraying, or fleeing their posts. Galen conceded that, placed in Ymiron's position, he likely wouldn't have found a better solution.
"Ymiron! Hear the cries of your people! Awaken from your slumber!" Queen Angerboda stood before her husband's throne, commencing the awakening ritual.
Within the massive form upon the throne, a heart began to beat once more, and then, his eyes snapped open!
"Angerboda, my love, why have you roused me? Have you discovered a way to break this damnable curse?" Ymiron's voice boomed, heavy with slumber.
"Your Majesty! Outsiders have invaded our lands! They have slain Ingvar and Skadi, and Utgarde Keep has fallen!" Though ambitious, Angerboda's power was intrinsically tied to her husband. Relief washed over her that she had fled Utgarde Keep in time.
"Bang!" Ymiron's fist slammed against his throne, his rage palpable. "Who dares?"
"Hello there!" A powerful voice echoed from beyond the throne hall. The doors burst inward, sending the two Vrykul guards flying. Galen strode into the hall, the Alliance generals flanking him, the power within him radiating outwards.
"Insignificant insects! Who are you?" Ymiron snarled, yet he couldn't ignore the potent aura emanating from Galen, a force that posed a genuine threat.
"Us?" Galen chuckled softly, gesturing to himself and the assembled Alliance princes. "We are the descendants of those 'deformed' children of your past. Today, we have returned to claim justice for our ancestors!"
Galen drew Strom'kar from his back, stepping into the center of the hall to issue his challenge. "Ymiron!"
"Strom'kar? So, the mongrels survived!" Ymiron drew his massive greatsword, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "It was a grave error not to have eradicated you completely. Now, you trespass in my home and dare to challenge me? Your insignias will serve as fitting sacrifices to the great former king! ᛈᚱᛖᛈᚨᚱᛖ ᛏᛟ ᛞᛁᛖ! ᛗᛟᚾᚷᚱᛖᛚ!" With a bellow, Ymiron raised Ymiron's Blade and charged.
But Galen offered no quarter. To shatter the spirit of these dragon-riding Vrykul, he stood unarmored.
"Heh! Aaaah!" With a primal roar, Galen's form began to swell, his ultimate move – the shirt-burst – unleashing its raw power.
The Alliance generals stared in stunned silence. What in the world? Has our marshal reverted to his Vrykul ancestor? Had they not learned of their lineage mere days ago, they would have been utterly bewildered.
As power surged through him, Strom'kar in Galen's grip sensed his master's battle fervor. The nascently sentient blade grew in size alongside Galen's expanding form.
Bang! The two greatswords collided. Galen stood unyielding as a mountain, while Ymiron staggered back three paces. The disparity in power was immediately evident.
A tremor ran through Ymiron's arm. He felt a disconcerting numbness. He had never imagined such strength could arise from the descendants of those he had deemed weak and worthless. Not only had Galen transformed into a being resembling their ancestors, but his power was terrifying.
But retreat was not an option. Within Ymirheim slumbered forty thousand Vrykul warriors, his elite guard among them. His failure meant their doom, the end of the Dragonflayer clan's future.
"Haldor, King of the Rocky Cliffs, lend me your strength!" Ymiron invoked the Boon of the Fallen Kings, calling upon the power of his ancestor.
Doubled in strength, he roared and charged again. Yet, even with this amplified power, Galen simply raised Strom'kar, casually deflecting his furious assault.
"This is impossible!" Shock registered on Ymiron's face. Though his own strength had waned during his long slumber, the might of the Stone King was legendary among their former rulers. Even with his blessing, he was still no match for Galen.
"Bjorn, King of the Black Storm, heed my call!" Amplified power now followed by amplified speed, Ymiron felt a surge of renewed confidence.
However, facing the enhanced Ymiron, Galen merely sidestepped his powerful blow, then seized the opportunity to thrust Strom'kar forward, the blade piercing the half-giant king's abdomen.
"Roar!" King Ymiron bellowed in agony, blood gushing from the massive wound.
"Great Vrykul King," Galen taunted, "is that all you possess? Unleash your full might, or you will have no further chances!"
Determination hardened the Vrykul King's gaze. He invoked the blessing once more. "Ranulf, King of the Depths of Terror, engulf these ants in eternal night!"
"Thor, King of Savage Slaughter, grant me your fury!" Summoning the spirits of two former kings simultaneously to empower him pushed his mental fortitude to its breaking point. His heart hammered violently in his chest, his body teetering on the brink of overload