His sleep was nearing it's end.
The fires of his endless dreams flickered for the first time in centuries.
Soon - decades, perhaps - his strength would be fully returned to him, and mortals would tremble in fear once again.
His worshippers had done great work in his abscence...but the glory they would know on his return would be beyond compare.
He would put the fear of death back into the weaklings who claimed the surface world as his own.
Soon...soon...
They will be cleansed by fire...
"Ashes to ashes..."
Such was the ultimate teaching they all lived by.
The Dark Iron dwarves all kept fires burning in their homes - a small altar to a grand God. Their temples were great forges, kept searing bright day and night - avoided, outside of ceremonies, for the brilliant light stung their eyes.
They all felt the stirrings in their mind, but only a few understood their portent. Their lord would soon walk the land once again, and woe to any who dared oppose him. These few took action to prepare the world for their lord's arrival...
One such individual was Dagran Thaurissian, Emperor of the Dark Iron dwarves.
His armies marched from the depths of Blackrock Mountain, where they had lived unnoticed for years, to the surface world. They scoured the land of life and built a great city - a massive testament to their living Emperor and the force he served.
The city stood for years - a bastion of darkness, withstanding the assaults of the forces of Light. Emperor Thaurissian himself took it as his new throne, and lorded over it for years, masterminding mining operations throughout the upper Redridge area...until that accursed Bronzebeard clan led his armies to war.
It was a dwarven feud between the dwarven peoples, to outsiders. But the fledgling town of Lakeshire, at the far south edge of the Redridge mountains, was afraid of the Dark Irons. Pioneers and warriors of the human kingdoms came as well, to fight the Dark Irons.
Against either of the foes, victory would have been all but certain. Thaurissan was a well-fortified citadel, and the Dark Iron dwarves were powerful and well-armed, staunch and battle-hardened. But the Dark Iron dwarves were not accustomed to the battle tactics of humans - dwarves fought in solid lines and with an emphasis on manpowerr, believing that one dwarf's life was worth a thousand arrows - while the humans fought with the vigor for which they were renowned. Squads of men would take on daring, often suicidal missions for the war effort - and they were succesful with alarming frequency. The Bronzebeard clan integrated the humans into their army seamlessly, but the Dark Iron dwarves had no experience with such recklessness, and caught between the implacable dwarven anvil and the driving human hammer, the city of Thaurissan was destroyed.
There are few still living who understand the destruction of the upper Redridge mountains, which led to the formation of what is now known as the Burning Steppes, and none among the mortal races.
But Dagran remembered. And he knew that the age of Flame would be soon upon them.
The armies of the Bronzebeards, led by the royal family and supported by their human comrades, marched into the Throne Room of Thaurissan. Emperor Thaurissian greeted the intruders with the nonchalant arrogance that characterizes the powerful and the insane.
"I am surprised you have made it this far, but it avails you naught. I will not allow you to capture the marvel of engineering that is Thaurissan! EVERYTHING SHALL BURN!" He screamed aloud, his voice echoing throughout the hall, and to the depths of the world itself...
The earth split, the ground trembled. The flames of Sulfuras roared through a crevice in the earth, as the mountains shifted and split. Calderas pushed themselves to the surface of the earth and craters were formed by the falling lava. The entire landscape of the land warped and twisted in seconds. Humans and dwarves died by the hundreds. Princess Moira Bronzebeard of the royal family was among the scores who disappeared. It would be years before the fledgling colony of Lakeshire would recover from the casualties, and decades before the Bronzebeard clan recouped its losses.
Emperor Dagran Thaurissian stood in the middle of it all, laughing.
And Ragnaros slept on, unaware that his power had been called on at all.