Oren Isle as we know it today is under heavy seige by pirates.  They have called to all Aislings to come to their aid against
 this scourge.  But it was not always this way.  Oren is a Monarchy, a proud government.  It was self-sufficient for a long time.

 When the pirates first started invading, the royal guard was sent to stop them.  The standard bearers soon returned in shame.  The Oren army had found the pirates far too powerful a foe.  Their arms could not pierce the Dark magic that protects the pirates.  They wanted to rid their land of the pirates, but they quickly realized that force was not the answer.

 So they opened a beer hut and bistro to keep the pirates off the streets and in somewhat controlled areas.  For their second attempt to rid their lands of invaders, Francheso brewed some 'special' wine laced with some hemloch...Which turned out to attract even more pirates.  The scurvy knaves seemed to like the extra zing of this wine all the more.  The citizens of Oren found their hope of a pirate-free isle once more fading fast.

 It was not until a wandering priestess happened through town that the peasantry saw some hope.  The lewd advances of a drunken pirate deeply offended her, and so she cursed him with her strongest curse. The drunkard fell later that night in a bar fight, showing the peasants of Oren that the pirates could indeed be defeated.  And so their grand scheme was hatched.

 A priest could be persuaded to their cause to curse away the dark magics that protected the pirates and a rogue could teach them to build insidious traps to ensare them.  Simple sticks and stones could then vanquish them.  To the pirates, it would seem the Oren mob had defeated them, and they would think twice before invading Oren again.

 The citizenry got hold of the two Aislings they needed, and set about preparing for the inevitable landing of a pirate vessel.

 And so they waited...  And waited... It was as if the pirates knew of their plans.  The rogue was expensive to keep on retainer, and the priest was running out of patience.  Something would have to happen soon or all would be lost.

 Finally, a small dinghy came ashore, with but one pirate aboard.  A squat mop boy, apparently exiled from his ship for dereliction of duty.  He spent his time in Oren skulking about, mindlessly swabbing the cobblestones.  The peasants figured him to be the perfect test subject for their grand plan.  Not to mention the fact that he sung his shanties off-key, and bad shanties, at that.

 The plan was laid into motion.  The mob was readied with sticks and rocks.  The priest laid the curse on the daydreaming pirate.  The rogue helped prime the traps.  Now all that was needed was the bait.  The bravest peasant approached the inebriated pirate and swung a fist straight into the mop boy's stomach.

 The mop boy, being a pirate and used to brawls, repsonded reflexively with a blow of his own, sending the peasant running  in terror, towards the snares.  Alas, wet cobblestone is very tricky footing.  The peasant, half-dead from the pirates blow, slipped and slid straight into the snares set before him.  The mop boy brought his mop down once again and finished the poor peasant.

 Their 'perfect' plan to win their freedom was brought down by just a bit of water.  The mop boy told the other pirates of the upstart citizenry, and the pirates came in more force.  Now, as we know, Oren is in dire need indeed.  Their best plans backfired upon them.  They lacked funds to retain another pirate, and the priest had no more patience for buffoons.  Thus Oren had but one option left.  The once-proud kingdom must now beg Aislings to help save their skins.

 Oren now teaches this lesson to all its children:

 Do not to rely too heavily on your plans, for a wrinkle you never considered can bring you to ruin.