Author: Woesinger

"...And so it came to pass that when Atroa's mild sighs vanquished once more Telchur's stormy songs, that Peranya, the wife of Prince Larendern of the House of Jostenn found herself with child. Tumultuous was the joy of the prince in that day, and it echoed through all the lands betwixt Leukish and the eves of the Celedon. A great feast he proclaimed and a festival for the common folk and all though the land there was singing, dancing and the playing of glad tunes.

Now even as Prince Larendern took wine and mead and fine delicacies with those of his court, an emissary came out of the east and came even into the prince's pavilion upon the shore of Unnumbered Depths. Cloaked he was in the manner of the Shadowed Ones of the Eastern Shores, and at his coming Pelor seemed dimmed, as when a cloud veils his face, and the reflection of his radiance passed from the mirrored waters of the Lake. The music fell silent and the songs perished on the singer's lips. The emissary then asked in gentle tones which belied his fell appearance whether he might speak with Larendern alone. The prince demanded to know what manner of parlay he would make. The emissary replied that he brought wisdom out of the East which would, if heeded, make even the kings of the Aerdi tremble before the utterance of Larendern's name and the mere rumour of the might of the Ornstae.

Having ever been envious and fearful of the ever growing might and power of the Aerdi and their kingdom in the east, Larendern therefore eagerly took the emissary aside and gave ear to his wisdom. The emissary told him of aplace within the forests of the Celedon where abided great wisdom and might. Power enough to make a man ruler of half the Flanaess, and lo! even as the emissary spoke his words conjured visions of Larendern astride a mighty golden throne with the rulers of the peoples of the Flanaess prostrate before him. Yet this might, this opportunity was squandered by the indolence of those who dwelt within that place - ignorant tribesmen of the Flan and degenerate peoples of the blood of the Oerids who skulked within the forest, when they could be rulers of the Oerth. And again Larendern beheld visions of himself at the head of conquering armies, unnumbered hordes which cried out his name as one and it echoed from the furthest peaks and resounded throughout the Oerth, such that even Celestian's Field quivered as a still pool when a stone is dropp'd into it. And in Larendern's heart there was born the desire to seize this power for himself and set himself upon the throne of the world.

Therefore he went from his chamber, the emissary still by his side and sending the war torch through the countryside drew together all the warriors of his land. He called also upon his fellow princes to join him in his mustering and full many of them marched to place their banners alongside his.
So it was that ere the trees were full in leaf and Sotillion had completed his task of raising the sun to its zenith in the azure field of the sky, some twelve thousands of men were gathered upon the fields hard by Unnumbered Depths. The banners of fully five of the Princes of the Ornstae flew proudly there and many knights and strong armed warriors besides. His host gathered about him, his Peers at his side, Larendern, girthed in a shirt of gleaming mail, his colours snapping proudly in the breeze above him, bid a sorry farewell to Peranya his beloved wife, who's belly was now swollen as her confinement drew on. Then sounding a note upon his horn which resounded across the field and was answered by a thousand notes of like kind, Prince Larendern rode forth to make war upon the Flan of the Celedon.

Directly east marched the Host of the Ornstae, until they came to the banks of the broad Nesser, there they set to hewing trees and fashioning such boats and water craft as were required to convey the mighty army unto the eastern shore. T'was said that their passage was like unto the leaves of autumn which are carried in a fleet of gold and brown upon the waters of a forest stream, such were their numbers. On gaining the far shore, Larendern's host plunged straight between the boughs of Celedon and pressed ever east and south.

Hearing the rumour of their onset, the Olve of the city sent forth archers to halt the Ornstae's advance, yet the emissary burnt their arrows as they flew and scorched the forest where they sought concealment, and for all their craft the Olve were put to flight or perished were they hid. The magi of the Flan then put forth subtle and deceiving magics, to maze the Ornstae and turn them aside from their goal. Yet again the emissary dismissed the dweomered mists and enchantments as a spring broom sweeps cobwebs from the roof beams.

Thus, despite force of arms and deception besides, Larendern stood before the walls of the city, and the Host of the Ornstae took it in leaguer. The magi of the Ornstae assailed the walls with their magics and worked great destruction there, burning it as a man takes a brand to destroy a wasp's nest. Yet the Flannae were not without power, for they answered in kind and there raged a great battle before the walls of the city. Scalding and burning energies boiled the air and seethed through the earth and deadly vapours brought death upon the wind. Nonetheless, the prowess of the Ornstae won out, and Larendern sent forward his warriors and knights like a silver wave which crashed over the circled walls of the city and poured through the streets, bringing death to all that sought to stem its advance. So it was with blood and fire the Ornstae rode through the toppling towers of the Flannae. And Larendern strode through the midst of the fray untouched and untouchable, and all foes that faced him met their doom.

Now the Flannae drew back into their uttermost refuge, within the tower which stood within the heart of the burning city. There the Witch of Starhaunt gathered her coven about her and knowing that Larendern's knights now assailed the doors beneath, in her final desperation, she cast an unholy curse upon the city and those who assailed it. Such was the malign power of the curse that she, her coven entire and the pinnacle of her tower were consumed in a sapphire blaze which blinded all who looked upon it.

And in that moment a madness seized the men of the Ornstae and they turned upon each other like wild dogs and slew each other. Brother slit the throat of brother. Men ran onto the spears of their fellows, cutting them down with their swords even as they themselves perished. Everywhere there was death and slaughter and blood ran like rivers through the burning streets. Alone amongst the Ornstae, though who stood about Larendern and the emissary were unaffected. T'was said that the emissary's power deflected the curse from them.
Seeing the madness which raged about him, Prince Larendern ordered a desperate retreat. Hacking through kin and comrade, Larendern's men, fought their way from the blazing ruins of Starhaunt and came with haste once more through the forest and to the banks of the Celedon. Of the fourteen thousands who had marched forth, scarcely two returned.

Bloodied and weary, Larendern came, with the remainder of his host once more beside the shores of Unnumbered Depths and the walls of his domain. Then a shadow of dread fell over him, for from every tower and spire black banners hung, standing like great carrion crows upon the roofs of his keep. A cold fear now running through his veins, he raced through the great hall, where there was none who did not weep, and came to his wife's chambers, still wearing his travelstained armour, the dust of the road still clinging to his cheeks. There he found his Peranya, lying in the stillness of death, arrayed in her graveclothes, her tender heart stilled, her once red lips robbed of their colour, her gay laugh silenced. And beside her, there lay a small form wrapped in black, its face white and cold, and in his grief Larendern wondered who had placed a doll upon his wife's funeral litter. Then, as his heart broke in twain, he saw that it was his firstborn that lay there without breath or life. And the pitiful cries of his anguish split the flagstones of the courtyard below, t'is said.

And ever since that day, the House of Jostenn has borne Larendern's Curse, which robs it of its firstborn, such that they come forth from the womb cold and dead. A hard, hard burden it is and though there comes other children, each of us shares Larendern's bitter grief, for the lost scions of our house, the barren fruit of our blood.