So Passes the King Under the Mountain

So Passes the King Under the Mountain was a series of short stories written by Hragli Runeforge that accounted for Magni Bronzebeard's death during the Cataclysm.

Part 1. The King is Dead
Grungnir sat at the foot of the High Seat, upon which no king sat. The throne room was entirely empty save for himself and three others, who stood at a distance from him toward one end of the chamber. Two thickly armored figures stood side by side, one speechless with grief, the other silent with some dark inward reflection. They were Morvar Ironbraid, the Chaplain, and Ewen Forgeheart, Keeper of the Vaults.

The King Under the Mountain was dead.

His body and spirit returned to the Stone in the glittering, cavernous heart of Ironforge, where the first dwarves to emerge from the southern mountains carved out a sacred delving for their most powerful kings and high kings. The Hall of Thanes, where such noble lords of time past as Madoran Bronzebeard and Modimus Anvilmar are forever entombed, would serve too as the final resting place of Magni Bronzebeard.

Eldest son of Madoran of the great lineage whose profound deeds had wrested control of Ironforge and left their mark indelibly in the world; brother of Brann and Muradin whose names are renowned amongst dwarves, men and elves all across Azeroth; the last true Lord of Ironforge; all these things was he, but then no more. For in one final hour of uncertainly, the weary king committed himself without warning or discussion to a sacrifice which, in exchange for the protection of Ironforge, would remove him from the mortal world. Forever.

Orcbane stared at his upturned palms, upon which rested many glittering fragments of a crimson substance. The molten hammerhead of his bludgeon, Baelmagnar, the Crimson Defender, had split asunder beneath the shadow of a terrible being. A fiery revenant was he, from the searing realm of Ragnaros himself, the very monstrosity from whose burning flank Baelmagnar had been wrought by the smiths of Bragg Daraz all those many long years ago: Blazegarr the Singed.

Part 2. How Could This Happen?
The Thane had seen the King in the fray, barely making out Magni and his cadre of thickly armored body guards through the haze of battle.

"Your Majesty!" he shouted, but the King did not hear, or perhaps chose not to respond. One last glance did the High Thane cast over the battles raging across the Great Forge, a mournful, withered look as that of an old and defeated liege upon a broken kingdom, before swinging open the door to the Hall of Thanes and disappearing below. Grungnir could see the tablets born from Ulduar in the King's hands, he knew at once what Magni intended to do.

"Thane!" came an anguished cry, "THANE!" Morvar had come into the Thane's view, hammering his way through the elemental invaders, accompanied by Ewen, Loremaster Runeforge and the resourceful young Ciarrah Brightstone. They seemed to be trying to tell him something, shouting desperately over the deafening roar of endless carnage, but he could not hear them. Too late... all too late did he realize what they were saying.

"My Thane! DO NOT let the King use the tablets! STOP HIM!!"

But the way was blocked. Fate's cruel hand had devised that Orcbane should face an obstacle which would render him useless to his king, for lo and behold that between the Thane and the High Seat did there arise a terrible wraith of the past. Blazegarr had come to reclaim his molten heart from the Crimson Defender, and once again become complete in his service to the Firelord.

The battle was long and terrible. Baelmagnar could not damage the monstrous creature, for the weapon was bound to the revenant's very being, but neither could Blazegarr do harm to the Thane whilst he wore his dwarven armor. Only when the Thane was joined with Ewen, Morvar, Hragli and Ciarrah did they altogether subdue and weaken the revenant, drawing him ever closer to his destruction. Sensing defeat, however, Blazegarr performed one final act of spite, destroying himself in a fiery blaze. With this act, Baelmagnar was undone.

Disarmed, disoriented and wielding nothing but his shield, Orcbane led a desperate charge to the Hall of Thanes. At the door, which had been closed again, he beheld Brunlun Ironfist, a throne guard within his regiment; it was a throne guard's duty to guard the King with his very life unless called away to perform a specific duty. Brunlun was guarding the entrance vigorously from a small horde of swarming elementals, cutting them down as they groped and clawed for the door.

"Brunlun," growned Grungnir,"Open that door!"

"Thane!" shouted Brunlun over the clang of steel. "Thane, me orders come from the King 'imsel--"

"OPEN THE DOOR!"

Taken aback by the commanding shout, the throne guard did as instructed and manipulated the complicated dwarven lock. The door swung open, and the Thane barreled in.

As they rounded the tunnel and entered the tomb, all six of them skidded abruptly to a halt at what they saw within. Horror-stricken, the Thane stared helplessly as King Magni's very flesh became one once more with the earth. He witnessed the suffering in the High Thane's gaze. He knew that he was dying, that it was painful. That he would never come back. He heard his last, agonizing gurgle before his throat turned to stone. And it was his fault.

The King was dead.

The Mountain Guard had failed.

Part 3. It Is Broken
And so, Grungnir sat within the empty chamber, the shards of his weapon held in his hands, the memory of Magni's death rattle fresh in his mind. Ciarrah had left the room in tears without speaking another word to any of them. Brunlun chased after her. Now just the four of them remained.

Hundreds had begun to gather outside, peering in curiously. The battle against the elementals had ended, the shaking had abated. Now there were whispers. Rumors of a terrible tragedy beneath the High Seat abound.

Hragli gazed mournfully at the broken pieces of Baelmagnar, as though they represented the breaking of the King himself, as though they embodied the defeat of Ironforge. A single tear rolled over his dry, wrinkled cheek.

"It is broken..." he intoned quietly.

Ewen Forgeheart squinted at the Loremaster, then over toward the Thane. He grunted with disgust, shaking his head. Turning on his heels and marching from the royal chambers, the Vaultkeeper could be heard snarling, "Aye. It is."

Morvar was silent and still, like a forlorn statue. He gazed unblinkingly at his comrade, at his thane, with whom he had fought countless battles. He looked empty.

At last the Chaplain spoke, his voice quivering and faint, "I..." Trailing off, he coughed to clear his throat and spoke again in a more confident tone. "...Thane, we've still... duties to perform. The Mountain stands, and... Light willin'--"

The Thane's gaze jerked up from his hands, his eyes bloodshot and wild with unchecked emotion. His lips curled into a sneer. "Light, Morvar?" he growled. The Chaplain's eyes widened a bit from the malice with which the words were spoken. "LIGHT?! What has th'Light done for Ironforge today? What has the LIGHT done that steel and stone cannot?"

The Thane spat on the floor, rising to his feet at last. He lifted his hands aloft in the air and, after a pause, unceremoniously threw the fragments of Baelmagnar down onto the stone.

"Curse the Light. To th'fiery depths with it, I say! Let the Light guide ye through these times, then! Let it show ye the way! Join the King in the Stone for all I care!"

Restraining tears, the Thane bellowed out a howl of grief and anguish that resonated in every hall of every depth of Ironforge. In shame and rage, he shoved his way past the Chaplain and the Loremaster and disappeared into the crowd gathered outside in the Great Forge.

Startled, confused dwarves burst abruptly into loud banter, begging for enlightenment. Even the guards who had been keeping them from entering the chamber had abandoned their posts and now joined the citizenry in questioning the Mountain Guard. Hragli had withdrawn to a shadowy corner, staring blankly at the opposite wall, whilst Morvar attempted to quiet the frothing horde.

Just as the Chaplain began to gain a foothold with the crowd, an exhausted dwarven courier bustled into the room, panting heavily. Morvar turned to address him.

"Eh?" he barked. "This better be bloody important, lad!"

"Sir," said the dwarf, saluting. "Sir... Dark Irons... headed for... the Stonewrought Pass... led by..."

"Speak up!"

"...the King's... d-d-daughter, sir..."