This land seemed so different - or rather this part of the land, which was not the mountain filled east. Gone was the bitter cold and the smog caused by the countless forges of Iron Mountain. Gone were the simpleminded people with their simple and practical views of the world. The massive steel carriage rumbled forwards, pulled by four horses - made of black metal and etched with runes of Kardovian arcana.

Inside the carriage sat a man on a large throne like contraption - an old man some might call him, after all he was past his mid fifties. Signs of aging were beginning to show on his face - though he'd probably live for at the very least another 30 years before his age would begin to really affect him - after all the Kardovians were quite long lived, the oldest of them being in his mid 120's and still instructing the younger folks about proper forging.

The man was Azar Kardov, the Lord Engineer of house Kardov, the Lord of Iron Mountain and owner of few other less grandiose and less polite titles and nicknames. In his youth he was Azar the Warmonger to some, or the upstart of Kardov - nowadays the mention of those past titles just made the old man smile, oftentimes with sincere amusement. Often the smile would be paired with a dry and witty - sometimes a tad bit rude - remark.

Azar had travelled for days - it had felt like months to him - alone in his carriage of steel, enjoying the sights as much as he could from the relative comfort and warmth of his magnificent little fortress of steel. Occasionally he suffered from nasty bouts of coughing - probably caused by the noxious fumes and smog of the forges he had been operating since the age of 10. Many other Kardovians suffered from the same affliction, it did not spare the young or the old, rich or poor. Azar's metallic hand moved to cover his mouth as another coughing fit racked his body. He checked the palm for droplets of blood and sighed in relief for the lack of blood - usually when a Kardovian began coughing blood their death was close. The old man smiled faintly. He knew full well that the time spent away from the Iron Mountain did only good for his condition - fresh air and something else to eat than mammoth meat and ale to drink would make him feel young again in no time.

The steel carriage rumbled forwards and finally stopped at the gates of Rainamere - the home of house Sonrah. Azar steadied himself for a moment and began reciting a spell to wake up the statues that circled the sides of his carriage - depicting a part of an old relief about some battle or other which had been forgotten to the flow of time.

As the 12 metallic warriors - four of which had earlier been the horses, but which had transformed to resemble knights with horrible creaking - took their positions around the carriage it's metal began to creak and twist - opening up to reveal the Lord Engineer sitting on his walking throne. His hands were spread to the sides and his face was etched with signs of fatigue from using his arcana in such a showy display. He lowered his metallic hand on the armrest of his throne and hid his left arm under a rather warm looking wool cloak. The walking throne stepped down from the heap of scrap that had moments earlier been a very fine carriage.