Many, many years ago. In a prosperous hideaway village in the mountains, simply known as the Ironhide tribe. A man sat upon a throne that wasn't quite gold, but mostly silver. His prestige was unfathomable despite his poorer background.
"That's nonsense, Galdor." The man on the throne said to someone in front of him. He adjusted his crown on his head and put his chin on his palm.
The man across from him, a man with a greying beard wearing a clerical uniform, named Galdor, was looking quite concerned.
"It's true, Alivon. Some man who claims he is from faraway lands has arrived."
Alivon looked concerned. "These mountains are too steep for just anyone. Amongst our people, we were the only ones to survive the trip. Does that sound reasonable that some stranger can just… waltz into here?"
Galdor stroked his beard and sighed. He replied with:
