Empowered by the King of the Abyss, a surge of dark energy solidified around Ymiron's pierced abdomen, staunching the flow of blood!
"Is this your final gambit, Great Vrykul King?"
Giant Galen's words dripped with a subtle venom. Though his Vrykul vocabulary remained devoid of vulgarity, and he even employed honorifics, his pronouncements struck at Ymiron's very core, each word a sharp barb piercing his pride.
"To the abyss with you!"
Ymiron channeled the immense power coursing through him, his eyes burning with murderous intent. Veins throbbed on his arm as he swung Ymiron's Blade, the colossal weapon named in his honor, in a ferocious arc towards Galen. The force behind the blow transcended the limits of legend, hinting at a sliver of demigod power.
Yet, he was no demigod.
With surprising ease, Galen intercepted the blow! Simultaneously, the dark magic of Ranulf, the King of the Deep Abyss, erupted from Ymiron's body, lashing out to corrupt Galen's flesh. Had Galen been merely a demigod warrior, this dark assault might have inflicted some damage.
But the bronze skin of Galen's giant form shimmered with an inner golden light! To Ymiron's astonishment, the encroaching black magic dissolved completely upon contact with Galen's radiant flesh. The attack was utterly ineffective.
Bang! Galen's massive foot slammed into the Vrykul King's chest, sending his towering frame crashing down beside his wife. Angerboda rushed to his aid, helping him sit up.
"I haven't even exerted my full strength, and you have already fallen! Ymiron, is this truly all you are?"
Despair washed over Ymiron. He was outmatched. Today marked the seemingly inevitable end of his reign and the Dragonflayer clan.
"The curse of flesh upon the Vrykul is the insidious corruption of the Old Gods targeting the Titan creations. This curse is irreversible. Even if the Titan King Aman'Thul himself were to return, he could not undo it."
Ymiron, poised for a final, desperate charge, froze, Galen's words striking him like a physical blow.
"You… you know of the curse that afflicts us!"
"Indeed. This blight originates from the Old Gods, not the Titan Keepers. They are unworthy of wielding such destructive power!"
"Impossible!" Galen's dismissive tone ignited Ymiron's fury. He yearned to refute his words, to assert his knowledge of the Titan Keepers, but the realization struck him: this descendant, generations removed, had surpassed mortal limits, standing on equal footing with those very beings!
"No need for denial," Galen observed the turmoil in Ymiron's eyes. "I possess knowledge of this world's secrets that far surpasses your own. Your Dragonflayer clan has forsaken the faith of the Titans. I suspect you no longer even recall your origins and the responsibilities you once held!"
Confusion clouded Ymiron's face. He truly did not know the Vrykul's genesis. After the first generation of stone Vrykul were tainted by the curse, they had been exiled by the Titans. Their original duties had been passed to the iron Vrykul of the second generation. Those responsibilities were now a distant memory.
Seeing Ymiron's bewildered expression, Galen pressed his advantage, revealing the origins of the stone Vrykul, their exile by the Titans, the upheaval within Ulduar, and the divergent paths of the Titan Keepers.
"The curse of flesh cannot be eradicated, but the Vrykul possess the potential to mitigate its degenerative effects through specific methods!" Galen continued. "After the cataclysm of the Ancient War, a faction of the Vrykul kingdom, following Tyr southward, settled in Tirisfal Glades, caring for their frail offspring. Another branch, after Tyr's demise, sought the protection of the mighty Odin in the Storm Peaks. Tragically, they became embroiled in the conflict between Odin and his adopted daughter Helya, eventually retreating to the deep mountains and renaming themselves the 'Tidestrider' clan. They established Hrydshal in Stormheim, flourishing for millennia. Yet, they have not been extinguished by the birth of 'deformed' children, have they?"
Galen's voice resonated with authority. "I can assist you in curbing this curse, allowing you to seek vengeance against its source, the Old Gods. My condition is simple: your Dragonflayer clan must submit to my authority and pledge unwavering allegiance to me!"
He paused, his gaze unwavering. "Submit, or perish, Ymiron. The future of the Dragonflayer clan rests upon your choice."
A tense silence descended. The Alliance leaders held their breath, the fate of the Dragonflayer clan hanging in the balance.
"Can you truly… truly mitigate this curse?" Ymiron finally asked, his voice tinged with desperation. "So that our bodies will no longer continue to weaken?" Compared to the distant prospect of avenging themselves against the Old Gods – entities that even the Titan Keepers struggled against – the immediate threat of the curse held far greater weight. Revenge seemed a fantastical notion.
"Indeed," Galen affirmed. "More effectively than the Lich King's methods, and without the necessity of transforming into the walking dead!" Opportunities were never lacking. A wave of Lightforging, Galen's crude yet effective solution, was readily available. The next roster of Honorbound orc candidates was pending, and the black dragons had no more whelps to Lightforge. The cathedral would not remain idle. Galen, ever the pragmatist, had taken on a new batch of orders.
After a moment of agonizing deliberation, Ymiron and Angerboda knelt before Galen. "The Dragonflayer clan pledges its eternal allegiance to you!"
Galen was unsurprised. In the original timeline, Ymiron and his queen had chosen to serve the Lich King; they would certainly not allow their clan to be annihilated. Pledging allegiance to Galen, a living leader, was arguably a more palatable option than serving the undead Scourge.
"You have made a wise decision, Ymiron!" Galen dispelled his giant form, shrinking back to his normal size and donning a close-fitting leather armor. "Utgarde Keep remains your seat of power, but the lands south of the river will belong to the Alliance nations from this day forward."
He continued, his tone decisive. "Select your most elite warriors. I will endeavor to curb the curse upon them! Furthermore, dispatch your finest beastmasters to instruct us in the art of training proto-drakes!"
Joy radiated through the Alliance ranks. Securing proto-drake eggs was one thing; effectively training them was another. With the Dragonflayer clan's expertise now at their disposal, their proto-drake knight corps would materialize much faster.
While progress in Howling Fjord was swift, the situation in the Borean Tundra to the west was proving far more complex. The Dragonflayer Vrykul held significant sway in Howling Fjord, but the Borean Tundra presented a more intricate web of power.