Constance
*The smell of iron and coal wafted throughout the valley, even this far out from the kingdom itself. Elias' horse whinnied in protest from the acrid scents, but the knight stayed it's bucking and willed it further down the path. Of all the nations in Ramul Ta, the Loran Kingdom had eluded her travels, the few Lora she had come across being either travelling merchants or blacksmiths in the heart of the larger metropoles. Opinions on dwarves varied wildly depending on who you asked, almost every Elf loyal to Silnaria turning their noses up at what they saw as a rump state, in comparison to the empire once crushed by Elven kings. Macen of Salvainia have a tentative respect for their skills in smithing and exploration, though few Salvain care for racial politics. 

For Elias, the chance to explore a new culture, mayhaps pick up on some of their combat techniques, was too interesting to pass up. After a life as an outcast, visiting a nation most shunned might just help her come to terms with a problem or two. Urging her horse along, the knight continued down the craggy passage, the entrance distant yet clear to see.*
Kenneth
*If there was one person who was in tune with the history of Prasian glory, it was the Kejomujian savant that wandered the valleys of her motherland with a branch fashioned into a simple walking stick, her short stature solidifying her race - a native to these valleys, and more specifically the Caverns within them. Her white hair blended in with the snowy backdrop, though her black dress made it so she wasn't completely camouflaged. Unlike most times, M'ra wore something over her dress, a long coat that reached down to her feet, furs lining its insides to keep her warm. Despite the strenuous exercise giving more than a little heat to her body, the cold of the wind still managed to make the novelist shiver in her boots.*
Constance
*A chill ran down the knight's spine, a familiar feeling that made her grimace once she recognised it. The cold had began to set in, the sky darkening in kind as the clouds swirled malevolently. Her steed snorted, far preferring the familiar cold; a sentiment Elias agreed with. She'd soon bring him to a stop, easing his attempt to rear up from the sudden halt and dismounting near a tree. She sighed, resting a hand upon the hilt of her longsword and surveying the region nearby. A small dispersing of trees, amongst the rolling white hills. Reminded her of home, unfortunately...*
Kenneth
*M'ralind, with her short legs and heavy baggage, found herself travelling far slower than most did. Her only respite was that thanks to her inherited strength from her father, she was able to trudge through the snow and winds without pause for long periods. She did also know the routes through these valleys far better than any normal wanderer would, so it came to her as a surprise when she turned the corner to see a knight scanning the landscape with her horse next to her, the two next to one of the trees that had managed to cling to the sides of the mountain.*

*Immediately, she started to hop along to reach the stranger, waving a hand in the air and pulling the hood off from her head to show her face more clearly. She didn't want to get slain for being mistaken for a yeti or something.* "Hello! Are you quite alright there? Do you know the way?"