#ragnaros

World of Warcraft - Ragnaros (process vid under cut)

Leyara by Caroline Gariba & Rafael Zanchetin Leyara was a powerful Druid of the Flame with a strong hatred towards Malfurion Stormrage.

As the proud wife of Valstann Staghelm, she was devastated by his loss during the War of the Shifting Sands. At some point she lived with her daughter, Istaria, in relative peace in Ashenvale until the Horde launched its assault in the region during the Cataclysm, causing Istaria's death. Reeling from the loss of her daughter and highly disillusioned with Malfurion's passive stance in regards to the Horde, Leyara was discovered by her father-in-law Fandral Staghelm. Fandral, now aligned with Ragnaros and Deathwing, was able to induct Leyara into the new order of corrupted druids serving Ragnaros - the Druids of the Flame.

After being inducted, Leyara snuck into Mount Hyjal to find and kill Malfurion. During her search she met Hamuul Runetotem, defeating him in battle leaving him for dead. Some time afterwards, Malfurion and a band of adventurers confronted her. Leyara told them that Fandral was a true leader and that Malfurion was nothing more than a desperate dreamer with no strength to lead anyone, and that the Night Elves would see through his weakness. Malfurion warned her that Fandral has been corrupted but Leyara, unheeding of Malfurion's warnings, threatened to kill his companions as she did Hamuul... Only for Hamuul to arrive, having survived his injuries despite her assertion that she had seared the life from his body. Hamuul told her that he would release her from her pain, and hoped that she could finally find peace in death.

Ash Crowned and Ember Blooded

They do not wear their history like a banner, they brand it into their skin. Where the Bronzebeard Dwarves toast to ancestry and the Wildhammers sing to the wind, the Dark Iron speak in whispers to flame, and to things older than fire.

Born from the same stone as their cousins, they were broken not by time, but by ambition, and what rose from that fracture was a people of smoldering pride and relentless cunning.

Let us now descend, deeper than stone, into the halls where flame remembers.

I. The Sundering of the Anvil

The War of the Three Hammers and the Fall to Flame

Before fire ever ruled their halls, the Dark Iron Dwarves were simply one of three great clans that arose from the shattering lineage of the Earthen. Alongside the Bronzebeards and Wildhammers, they shared a common ancestry rooted in stone, but not in spirit.

When the High King of Ironforge died, leaving no clear heir, peace cracked like cooling iron. The council meant to unify the clans into shared rule crumbled under centuries of buried resentment and ambition. Thus began the War of the Three Hammers, not merely a civil war, but a divine tragedy of heritage turned hostile.

The Bronzebeards, ever pragmatic, claimed the city of Ironforge itself, expelling the other clans after winning the conflict.

The Wildhammers, proud and storm-blooded, flew to the high peaks of Grim Batol, forging a bond with the skies.

And the Dark Irons, led by the ambitious sorcerer Thaurissan, seethed in the shadows of the south.

They were not content to lose.

Driven by wounded pride and the fire of arcane hunger, Thaurissan and his queen Modgud launched a desperate, two-front war to seize both Ironforge and Grim Batol. Their armies surged like smoke, fierce, unrelenting, bolstered by dark magics and forbidden rites. But the gods did not favor them.

In the north, Modgud’s assault on the Wildhammers failed, she was slain, and her troops scattered, but not without leaving a terrible curse on the home of the Wildhammers.

In the south, Thaurissan’s assault crumbled under Bronzebeard resistance and his own underestimation.

Humiliated, enraged, and driven to the edge of madness, Thaurissan turned not to tactics, but to summoning.

From the volcanic heart of the Redridge Mountains, he cast a spell intended to bring forth a being of power enough to burn his enemies and the world with them. He succeeded.

He summoned Ragnaros, the Firelord.

The mountain exploded. The land burned. And the Dark Irons were changed forever.

II. The Forging of Shadowed Souls

Culture, Curses, and the Alchemy of Fire

Unlike their kin, the Dark Iron did not build in harmony with stone, they scorched it into submission. Their architecture is forged, not carved. Their magic is alchemical, infernal, arcane.

Centuries of servitude to Ragnaros changed them. Their skin grew ashen, their eyes emberlit. Fire infused their bloodlines. But more importantly, the clan changed itself: where others worshipped gods or kings, the Dark Iron revered power, in all its cruel, brilliant forms.

They are ruled by craft and intrigue: from shadow-forging sorcerers to hammer-wielding priests of magma. Even their history is molten, rewritten with each new ruler who survives the infernal crucible of succession.

Their rituals blend dwarven rune-lore with fire elementalism. They build golems, forge cursed weapons, and harness ancient machines powered by imprisoned elementals.

III. Ashes Unbound, Oaths Rekindled

Modern Legacy, New Loyalties, and Future Pyres

Today, the Dark Iron are no longer bound to Ragnaros. With his second death, they have clawed their way back from elemental servitude into political firelight.

Under Moira Thaurissan, daughter of Ironforge and widow of the Dark Iron's last emperor, the clan walks a knife’s edge between vengeance and diplomacy. Now part of the Alliance, begrudgingly, they bring unmatched forge-magic and espionage to the fight against threats like the Void, the Legion, and worse.

Yet many still dwell in the darkest part of Shadowforge City, a labyrinth of lava and steel buried beneath Blackrock Mountain, where old rites still simmer and oaths to flame are whispered in secret.

Some among the League of E.V.I.L. would call these dwarves useful allies. I couldn't agree more.

Epilogue: The Anvil Remembers

To study the Dark Iron is to learn the truth behind all dwarves: that stone remembers its shaping, but fire remembers its betrayal.

Their curse is now their culture. Their exile, their armor. And in the clanging of their forge-halls, one hears not nostalgia, but a future being hammered, spark by spark, in defiance of every throne and god that tried to break them.

Should the League ever seek a forge that burns with ambition equal to ours… Blackrock still burns.

By Fire Be Purged!

After all this time. Everything you've done to prepare for it. Gathering ingredients that the alchemist can produce Potions to protect and aid you. Hunting great foes for the strongest weapons and armour. Battling the mythical creature known as pla-yer Sch'e'dule. You have arrived.

You are as ready as you can possibly be. In the words of L. Jenkins.

...

Twenty seconds later, the ethereal vocals of the leader of your great band carries across the battlefield

"Okay. Who stood in the fire?!"

---------------

First time in months i have a working photo booth setup.

Got a lot of minis that are painted but been awaiting a proper photo.

Not really got a lot to say. This is the Firelord model by bitethebullet painted to look like Ragnaros from world of warcraft

Don't have much in the way of scenery for lava so plane base and background from the game