He seemed like a black dot on the horizen, at first they thought it was nothing, just some beast off in the distance, then as he came closer they could see it to be a rider. He was a man, standing at 8 feet in the air riding a massive black horse. This astonished the people for they thought that horses could never be tamed. He and the horse were armoured in black iron. Another astonishement, for what man had the might to bend iron to hold his shape. He wielded a massive axe of war. Not only can he bend iron for armour but he can grind it into a blade? This man was beyond comprehension by the people.
For three days he rode to them, and for three days they watched. For on the night of the third day he was upon them. The village had gone to sleep, the men in their own huts and the women gathered in one small hut to keep warm as the men forbade them to ware clothes. This was in fact the only stroke of luck the women had ever had, since it would keep them from witnessing was unfolded that night.
It began with the hoofbeats of the horse and a scream that was silenced instantly. Then footsteps crunching snow. The ting of the mens primitive clubs on his armour. More screaming. Blood spilling, bones splitting, more and more screams. Then the crackle of fire, the smell of burning fur followed by burning flesh. Then there was silence.
The women huddled with their children, holding them tightly wishing for a better way to show them they're love, the children responded with tears and whimpers. The smell disipated and shortly after the silence was broken. The sound of snow crunching once more, with the unfamiliar clank of metal on metal. The women knew what was to happene, one of the men overpowered the man of Iron to realise the others were dead. He had all the women to himself and wanted them right now, with them all in one hut none had any place to run and hide. So they closed their eyes, held they're children to them, and readied for the first day of the rest of they're lives.
Then, when the skins covering the hut entrance flew off, something amazing happened.
"Your safe now, I'm not going to hurt you." They didn't know what he said, but they knew what he meant. The man of Iron, all eyes were upon him. In his right hand was his great war axe, practicaly caked in blood. In his left arm he carried a pile of fur clothes and blankets which he threw into the center of the hut. No one needed to be told, they threw the cloths on relishing the warmth for the first time in years. The man motioned them out of the hut and they did as they were told. The sun was up the light help to warm they're bodies to comfort. Not far away the smoking ashes of the men ontop of what used to be the village fire.
Mounting his warhorse, the Mna of Iron led them away from the village, out into the waste, a place where no woman had traveled, to what came to be known as "The City of Stone."