The words split the very air, carrying tidings of cosmic absurdity. While the grand, glorious, and utterly chaotic Alliance of Azeroth and the invading, perpetually frustrated forces of the Burning Legion were tearing each other limb from limb on the Broken Shore, Galen, the Hero-King himself, was leisurely chilling in the deepest, darkest crypt of the Tomb of Sargeras. Next to him, shimmering with ethereal annoyance, was the utterly flabbergasted female Titan, Eonar, whom he'd just dramatically rescued from an alien dimension.
"Eonar," Galen began, sounding remarkably casual for someone talking to a goddess, "do you, by any chance, want your body back? Because if you want it, I can totally get it for you."
Eonar, a cosmic being who'd just been through several millennia of hell, simply blinked her luminous eyes. "Then find me one, Galen. Preferably one that hasn't been used by a giant, angry demon for personal hygiene."
Because of these two profoundly existential (and remarkably blunt) conversations, Galen, with the efficiency of a cosmic real estate agent, simply built an Altar of Kings right there in the underground palace on the Broken Shore and, with a flourish, summoned the spectral form of Eonar's soul.
"Galen," Eonar began, her voice a low hum of disbelief, as she gazed upon the truly enormous, bald, suspiciously blue giant floating before them, "is this the 'new body' you promised me? You didn't mention it came pre-owned." The body's eyes were closed, its perpetually serious face a canvas of sharp, angular lines. Its upper half was impressively naked, while its lower body was covered in armor made of gray rock and steel. It was… a look.
"Eonar, Eonar," Galen said, waving a dismissive hand, "this is a strong and pure Titan body! Don't be fooled by the charming little cracks on it. After a bit of TLC and some strategic repairs, it will definitely be able to bear the power of a true god. Trust me, I know bodies." This magnificent (and slightly terrifying) giant was, in fact, the incarnation that Sargeras had casually stuffed into Azeroth hundreds of years ago. Aegwynn had gloriously defeated the incarnation, but even she couldn't destroy it. Clearly, Sargeras had spent a ridiculous amount of thought (and demonic budget) in creating this particular flesh suit.
"In order to purify the powerful, utterly disgusting fel energy in this body," Galen continued, oblivious to Eonar's growing discomfort, "it took the two Naaru, D'ore and K'ure, no less than three years to finally remove the fel energy bit by bit. They had nothing else to do, really. So, you want to try it out? I'll see if it, uh, fits?"
As the counterattack on Argus loomed, Galen desperately needed Eonar to recover her strength. After all, Aggramar and Argus, the two fallen Titans they were about to face, were not exactly pushovers. But Galen genuinely didn't know whether Eonar could effectively use this… hand-me-down body. It was just an incarnation, similar to a soul container. Galen was truly clueless about its limits and how much strength Eonar could actually exert once she possessed it.
In fact, Galen had initially thought about being truly clever. He'd considered using the equipment in Ulduar, combined with the formidable power of the Forge of Will and the Forge of Origination, to rebuild a brand-new, bespoke body for Eonar. A shiny, fresh one. But Eonar, with a sigh that could ripple galaxies, gently informed him that this brilliant idea was, tragically, totally unfeasible.
The reason? The Forge of Will, while impressive, could draw upon the life essence of Azeroth itself, granting form and sentience to rock and metal creatures. It was great for creating sturdy earthen spirits, grumpy iron vrykul, and even the occasional full-sized Titan guardian. But building a body for a full-fledged Titan?
"Not enough level, Galen," Eonar had explained with a cosmic shrug. "Your toys are simply not high-level enough for a proper goddess."
"I know your plan, Galen. This body was used by Sargeras," Eonar said, a shudder running through her ethereal form. "I can feel how powerful it is. It should be able to exert at least half of my strength. Which is… adequate." However, when Eonar looked at the perpetually scowling, vaguely familiar face of Sargeras's avatar, she felt a wave of profound, existential disgust. It was like seeing your ex's face on a punching bag.
At the same time, she felt a deep, primal shudder deep in her soul. Tens of thousands of years ago, it was the very owner of this body who had gleefully chopped her and her brothers' actual, physical bodies into tiny, frustrating pieces with a single, brutal sword during what was supposed to be a diplomatic negotiation. The memories were not pleasant.
"Heh heh..." Galen chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. He'd seen the Titaness's concerns, and he had a solution. "Don't worry about those pesky little details! We in Azeroth are positively bursting with talented people. In addition to being able to clean up powerful fel energy, we also happen to know a little bit about… carving techniques. Think of it as a divine makeover."
"Well," Eonar conceded, a flicker of hope (and desperation) in her eyes, "as long as it's not this disgusting face, I can accept it. I suppose I can even accept it if it's a male body, as long as it doesn't look like him."
Galen beamed, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. "You're back! Come alive! Are you ready to get back to your old job of being a terrifying, world-saving goddess?!"