Unexpected Arrival

A man of the age of 20 lived his whole life on a farm village, cleaning stables, scrubbing floors, and working as an apprentice to the village blacksmith. He had wished his whole life that he could move on and do bigger things, but being a peasant restricted him from doing so.
The young man's name was Thron.He lived in a small house with his mother, father, and grandfather. His family owned one horse and three cows.
Of the few valued treasures his family owned, his ancestor's sword was one of them. Its hilt was made of hardened leather and gold, and the blade of pure silver. With this his grandfather taught him how to fight with a sword as a boy. His father thought it was nonsense, teaching a poor peasant-boy how to fight.


"Oi! You missed a spot!"
"I know, I 'll get it!"
It was the third day of spring, and Thron was sweeping the blacksmith's forge. Everard, a man of the same age as Thron, was pestering him as always.
"When will you stop bothering me, you horse's ass?" asked Thron.
"The day the sun stops rising."


After Thron was done at the forge, he headed over to the Tavern. "A pint," he told the bartender. After a while Everard walked up to the bar next to Thron.
"Hey, Thron, I heard you're family was so poor, you feed off the animals' food!"
"Knock it off, or you'll wish you never said that."
"Oh, I'm scared, Thron, what are you gonna do about it?"
Just then, Thron turned and slammed his fist into Everard's face. He fell to the floor, blood running from his nose. Thron got up from his seat and picked Everard up by his throat.
"If you ever insult my family again, I swear on my father's name I'll kill you." He dropped Everard back on the floor, groaning.


The next day, Everard came to Thron's house. He knocked on the door and when Thron answered Everard said, "I' ve come to challenge you to a duel. I won't let you get away with what you did to me last night."
"If you fight me, you'll be in worse condition than you were yesterday," said Thron.
"We'll see. You accept my challenge?"
"Yes."
"Good. Meet me in the village center in an hour."
Thron went to his room and put on his sword. Then he headed out the door.


When he got there, Everard and most of the village's inhabitants were there. Thron stepped forward and drew his sword.
All of a sudden, Everard dropped to his knees, an arrow protruding from his heart, blood-tipped.
Everyone panicked. People were scattering everywhere.
As Thron was looking around to see what was happening, he saw strange bipedal creatures running everywhere too fast to get a good look at them. They were everywhere, tackling people and ripping out their entrails, stuffing them into their mouths.
Then he heard the village gates crash down and the sound of horses' hooves. As he turned around to see, something hard hit him in his back. He was violently thrown against the wall of a house and buried beneath a haystack.


When he finally came to his senses, he cleared out the hay in front of his face. The village was in ruins. All of the buildings were either burned or collapsed. He tried to stand, but he felt a sharp pain in his leg. He looked down to see his very own sword stuck in his leg.
"Damn, must' ve have happened when I was hit."
He winced in pain as he slowly pulled out his sword, blood seeping from the wound as he did so. He tore part of his shirt sleeve off and tied it around his leg. He slowly stood up, using a nearby wall for support. He looked around to see that all the villagers' animals were wandering freely about the village.
"I guess they don't like taste of animals..."
He limped around the village, looking for others, but not daring to call for them. He finally came to his own house. As he looked through the rubble, he saw a severed arm clutching a small dagger. His father's dagger. He couldn't bare it any longer. Blood was everywhere on the ground. He tried to run away, but his leg didn't allow it. He slowly made his way toward the village gates. He would not stay another minute in this damned graveyard.
As he approached the gates, he heard a crash in what was left of a house. As he went inside it, sword raised, he turned a corner and scared the hell out of the village priest.
"What do you think you're doing, waving your sword around like that?! You could have killed me!" cried the priest.
"I'm sorry, father, but I thought you were at first one of them."
"Demons, they are!" cried the priest,"The Ones who feast on human flesh! The Ones whose name must not be mentioned."
"Father, we must leave this accursed place. We don't know if they will come back or not."
"You're right, but what do we do?"
"Their should still be a few horses around here, the demons didn't kill the animals. We take one horse each to ride and one more to load all the supplies we can find on it. Then we make our way to the nearest city, Hirindor.