Irgar (pronouned Ear-Ghar) is a rough and ruddy land to the [direction] of Horizon. It was one of the first areas to be conquered by the new Empire, being filled with the Irgarim (Ear-Ghar-Eem), dangerous and psychopathic tribes of stocky, bearded, axe-wielding barbarians who had been locked since time began in a vicious and bloodthirsty war with their mortal enemies the Irgarim. Irgar is a long way from the Wall, and while the Land is particularly strong there it has few human followers there. Apart from a few Land-shamans, Irgar is by and large a wholly unmagical country.
The Empire brought peace to Irgar, and later it brought steam, too. The tough, brawny Irgarim, who had never before developed technology more sophisticated than that which was needed to make axes and stockades, turned out to be remarkably adept in the world of levers, valves, vents and pistons. Uthelm (Oot-Helm), formerly the fortress of the most powerful Irgarim tribe, soon became the Empire's chief exporter of steamwork. The city is situated in the cleft of a mountain at the top of a great, crashing waterfall; the power of the fall powers a great number of mills through a complex arrangement of reciprocating rods and flywheels.
When the Empire started to decline, it quickly became apparent that no matter how subservient the Irgarim may have appeared, they were still Irgarim at heart. Worse, they had a common enemy. On Chalrimas [Cal-Rim-Mass] Day, a well-loved Irgar holiday that had long been suppressed by the Empire, something happened which had never happened before in Irgar history: the Irgarim co-operated and drove the occupying Empire troops out of their land. Even more remarkable, the Irgarim lord who had united them in the rebellion, Count Wolfson III, managed to keep control of the tribes and stop them from degenerating into infighting after the Empire were vanquished. By now a few of the tribes had gotten used to a more peaceful life, and many of them had come to appreciate the joys of steamworking. Wolfson allowed the Irgarim tribes sufficient independence to remind them of the good old days, while keeping a tight enough rein over the skeleton of bureaucracy left by the Empire to stop a free-for-all from breaking out.
These days the Irgarim are still deeply factionalised. The wrong accent or a slight change in mannerism are more than enough to get you beaten up in the wrong bar. But while the tribes are always quick to bicker amongst themselves, they're even quicker to all unite with a cry of "Remember Chalrimas Day!" against any meddling foreigners who threaten an Irgar tribe. In a way, the situation is a microcosm of the four nations under Empire rule: unite against any serious danger, and infight when one isn't available. Despite the jokes, Irgarim culture isn't as bloodthirsty or as primal as all that. The language and especially the slang are still rough, ready and earthy, but most of the traditional Irgarim bloodlust has been diverted into machining, steamworking and building huge, smoky factories. The Irgarim are usually quite content to work in the hottest, grimiest, most hellish conditions; indeed, many of them even take pride in being able to do so. Experimentation and tinkering with machinery is deeply encouraged by the current ruler, King Olaf Wolfson.