The Plains of Llyrian sit betwixt the eastern most ridge of the Dragon's Spine and the south-western end of the Dragon's Teeth. Now a barren place, it has been named as cursed for the past seven generations. Once, it had been verdant and lush grasslands. That was long before it was named for the ill fated sons of Llyrian.
I suppose the place to begin this story is at the beginning. Long ago, when they were known not as the Plains of Llyrian but as the High Reaches or the Marches of Elspar and Corinth, the plains were a windswept grassland. There, lived a proud people of heroic stature. Masters of the horse and fearsome warriors, these people were known as the Kordid.
In the language of the men of Elspar, Kordid means simply 'Riders'. The Kordid were frequently a people of commerce. When the seasons turned harsh, those who hadn't trade agreements with the Kordid found themselves the object of raiding parties. Bands of the Kordid would offer their services as mercenaries, frequently battling others of their people during the bitter winters.
Among the Kordid was a line of impressive warriors. These warriors and their kin rose to power within their people. Ambition was in their blood, as was fire. This was wedded to cunning intelligence to produce the flower of that lineage, Llyrian of the Golden Hair.
Llyrian was different from several of his kinsmen. For he was an excellent strategist and gained a reputation for brining home more warriors alive then others had. So it happened that Llyrian came to be a King among his people. It was shortly after this that trouble came among the Kordid that not even his strong hand could turn away.
One night, Llyrian's hall rang with the sound of celebration deep into the night. Llyrian's wife, Unnr, had borne him twin sons. This was the cause of great joy for Queen and both Princes were hale. It was also taken as a sign that the Gods smiled on Llyrian. Thus, mead flowed freely and the Prince of Shield-Breakers called for song far later then usual that Summer's night.
Their revelry, however, angered one who lived in the near by marsh. To this day, it is not known if it were a Deamon Princess or a powerful, ill spirited enchantress who came to his door. Hooded and dressed in a cat skin robe of white, she walked in to the hall from a storm that seemed to bear the wrath of Gods within it.
*Edited for spelling and grammar.