The Harpy Attack

It was the end of the autumn when a chilling wind swept over the quiet Serendale village and the first streaks of dawn seeped through the horizon. The atmosphere seemed to hold its breath, sensing the imminent arrival of a malevolent force. Suddenly, a shrill screech pierced the air, sending shivers down the spines of the villagers. The harpies had arrived.

With wings spanning wide, the harpies descended upon the unsuspecting village, their dark silhouettes casting ominous shadows. Their relentless assault struck fear into the hearts of the villagers, who watched in terror as the harpies swooped down from above. Sharp talons and claws tore through the air, seeking their prey with ruthless precision.

Panic spread like wildfire as the harpies unleashed their fury upon the village. Chaos erupted as homes were ransacked and livestock scattered in disarray. The harpy's talons dug deep into the earth as they descended on the villagers with a fierce hunger for their flesh.

The sound of their blood-curdling screeches filled the air as they swooped down on their targets, claws outstretched and eyes glowing with malice. Their razor-sharp talons tore through skin and muscle, while their powerful wings created a gale-force wind that pushed back anyone who dared to stand in their path. Such was the relentless aggression of these foul creatures that no one was spared from their fury, and those who were not killed outright had to run for their lives.

The villagers could only scream in terror as their shrieks were drowned out by the terrifyingly loud screeches of the creatures that had invaded their village.

In a desperate bid to defend themselves, the villagers fought back with whatever makeshift weapons they could find. Archer's arrows whizzed through the air, only to be met by the harpies' evasive maneuvers. The villagers banging kitchen utensils and metal objects created a loud and annoying noise were only temporarily kept them away.

The villagers' resistance seemed futile as the harpies outnumbered them and possessed an uncanny agility in their attacks. Fear and despair gripped the village, as they realized the true extent of the harpies' menace.

The once peaceful Serendale village now lay in ruins, It's streets were an abattoir of horrors, the cobblestone paths slick with the blood of innocent victims and strewn with the shattered remains of those who had fallen victim to the harpy's merciless attack.

The air was heavy with death and despair, a dark pallor shrouding everything in its sight. A mangled corpse here, a broken body there. It was something that everyone would remember forever.

The harpies had left their mark, instilling a deep sense of vulnerability and helplessness among the surviving villagers. The menace of these formidable creatures had been unleashed, and the battle for survival had only just begun.

the harpies took livestock, ransacking houses, Furthermore, they destroyed the church, leveling it to the ground because the bell's toll hurt their sense of hearing. among all of the destroyed buildings, very few were untouched, and one of them was the courthouse.

The courthouse stood still, a stark contrast to the ruined church just a few steps away. The courthouse loomed majestically against the skyline, its impressive facade indicative of its strong structure and storied history with its long corridors and sweeping staircases. Its hallways were lined with dark wooden panels that glowed in the pale sunlight streaming through stained glass windows. Benches filled every corner of the waiting areas, while court officials and Sisters of Aione hurried around, busily assisting the villagers who had taken refuge within the sturdy building. An antique sand clock seeped into the corner, reminding everyone of how precious time was now that nature had taken back what it once owned.

Inside the main chamber, the village chief, old and wise with salted hair, stood up from his chair, the grave look on his face painting a picture of distress as he spoke. Three officials and a young, ginger-haired steward no older than fourteen were ready to follow orders.

"Father, what do we do now?" The ginger steward asked the village chief which is also happened to be the village's church father.

"It's an all-out war out there," Winston, the bald official added.

"No, it's not a war. It's a massacre." Dan, the second official replied as he walked past to get the key to the cellar. Dan was accompanied by the third official. They just came back from the church with the refugees who sought safety in the courthouse after the church was destroyed. The courthouse was the second most sturdy building in the village, exceeded only by the church. It also had a belltower which kept the harpy birds away, making it the last remaining structure with such a feature.

"We have to act quickly, sir," Henry, the third official suggested as he was worried about the safety of the villagers, "This harpy swarm is getting out of hand and if we don't do something now, it won't be long before they overrun our entire village."

The village chief looked around at the faces in the room and then he looked down on the working desk with half a dozen pieces of mini scroll papers. They were all written by his hand and stamped with the village's signature.

"This is beyond our capacity," The village chief said with a rasp trembled voice. "We need help from the Crown, they have the means for dealing with this harpy problem."

"Take this," The village chief handed over the small scrolls to the steward and gave him a firm nod, "Send all of them with our fastest postbirds to every empire outpost right away, tell them we need protection against these creatures immediately."

He paused briefly before proceeding. Then, he added firmly. "Strap them with red cord, make sure they understand our urgency. These harpies are nothing like the ones we normally encounter. They were unpredictable and relentless in their attack."

"Yes, sir," The ginger-haired steward acknowledged the request and immediately set off to deliver the message. He had never seen such urgency for the village before, so he was determined to act quickly to get them an answer as soon as possible.

The steward left the courthouse and quickly tore through the streets with his nimble feet, leaping over corpses and avoiding jumbled piles of debris that had been left in his way. He was running with no regard for his own safety, ignoring all the mess that surrounded him, pushing himself harder as he raced to deliver the important message.

The wind whipped past him as he ran among the chaos of the village, the urgency of his mission urging him on toward his destination. Every second mattered and he felt a sense of dread growing inside him if he couldn't complete this task.

The harpies saw him, he stood out from the other villagers who just fighting for their lives. He aroused the curiosity of the harpies; among all the people running away in complete disarray, the ginger-haired young man sprinted toward something in determination.

He must be up to something.

One of the harpies lingering by the rooftop of a ruined house called her sisters, they knew what to do. They lunged at the ginger-haired steward, their talons ready to scalp the ginger hair clean.

Together, the harpies attacked the steward yet the young man kept pressing onward.

His stubbornness made the harpies fiercer than ever before. They had no idea what he was plotting, but they could sense the danger lurking within him and did everything in their power to stop him from succeeding.

The harpies that had been harassing the villagers now set their sights on him.

As if a group of kids who found a new toy, the other harpies left their victims on a whim and decided to join in the hunt for the ginger-haired steward like a sick game of hide and seek with human life at its stake.

The intensity of their attacks became more relentless with each passing moment, more and more harpies joined to swarm him, their eyes glowing with a sinister hunger, vying with one another over who could sink their claws into the steward's stomach first. The steward was slashed and ripped by the harpy's claws, but his determination awed everyone who saw him, never wavering in his courage.

The villagers relieved a huge sigh as they could catch a break from the harpies which just disengaged from attacking them. Feeling sorry, they could only admire the courage of the steward as they watched the harpy that had just been attacking them join their flock in hunting him.

*Shuck!

"Gah!" The steward stumbled along the sidewalk as another harpy succeeded in landing a wound on him. It swiftly snatched his calf, its sharp talon dug into his flesh and leaving an open gash. He quickly kicked it off, blood gushed out of his open wound drenching the path he left. He refused to be hindered by its presence and pressed on towards his destination.

He has one job and one job only, to deliver the message to the nearest empire outposts. In order to do that he must get to the messenger post where he can find the postbirds in the aviary. After he securely strapped the message with red cords to the postbirds and released them, his job was complete.

It was easier said than done as in front of him, the harpies were everywhere; perched atop the buildings and posts ready to pounce at any moment. But he caught sight of an alley entrance not far ahead. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for what was likely to come and ran towards it, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Let's see if you guys can chase me to the narrow alleys," The ginger boy mumbled as he dashed forward to get into the alley.

"Keeah!" all the harpies lunged in to deliver their finishing attack to the steward. With a fierce gleam in his eyes and an unshakeable resolve, he charged through the raging harpy attack. The surge of adrenaline assisted him in dodging all the harpies that were targeting him.

Fortunately, the ginger steward managed to slip into a narrow alley covered by canopies from the wooden houses and buildings surrounding him. He was safe for now. The alleys gave him a temporary breathing pace and it also provided him a shortcut to the messenger's post near the chamber of labor at the arcade shop.

The steward was born and raised in this village, he was intimately familiar with every corner, alleyway, street, and shortcut that it had to offer. He knew the village like the back of his hand.

Now he had a brief moment to take in the situation. He was close to the finish line, and he must use this window of opportunity for his benefit. He had worked hard to get here and was determined not to let this opportunity slip by. He hastily unbuckled his belt and wrapped it tightly around his leg above his bleeding wound, it may not stop the bleeding but enough to slow down the blood loss.

He leaned over the side of the alley wall as he moved toward the messenger post.

"Ugh, come on," The teen steward grunted as his wounded leg slowed him down, "just a few steps more."

The deep gash in his calf was like a gaping maw, draining him of his energy and strength. He stumbled along, every step a painful struggle as he dragged his severed leg behind him. His vision swam, the sound of ringing in his ears growing ever louder. Dark spots began to appear before his eyes as he felt himself beginning to succumb to the relentless loss of blood.

He took a left turn and saw the messenger post just across the street where he at now.

"There it is," His weary eyes sparked with hope, his leg weakening, his body going numb, and he could barely feel himself.

He heard the flapping of wings. Looking up, he saw harpies hovering above him. Some had already arrived and were perched atop the messenger post's roof.

"Khu khu khu," The harpies cackled, mocking the steward's weak state. They were laughing at the teen's resolve. Waiting for him on the rooftop, they knew the steward's destination was the messenger's post. The moment he stepped out of the alley they would remind him that resistance is futile. Snatching him up, they would make him their helpless plaything in a twisted and nightmarish way. He would be tortured beyond his wildest imagination, his screams echoing in despair across the rooftops for all to hear.

"I can't give up now. Everyone has put their trust in me, and the lives of so many depend on me," the steward said as he mustered himself. He had an act of courage that far surpassed the Crown's watches, who had abandoned their post for a place on the escape ship during the harpy's initial attack on the seaport near the village at the base of the mountain.

With one last push of his legs, The steward sprinted across the street toward the door of the messenger post. The harpies descended with screeches and cries, eager to catch their prey. Fortunately, the steward was able to outrun them and escape with his life. Arriving at the messenger post, he quickly grabbed the door handle and slid into the place, slamming the door shut behind him. The harpy's shrieks echoed outside as they desperately clawed at the door, unable to open it without a hand. Their cries could be heard throughout the street, but he was safe and secure inside his messenger post.

The steward grabbed ahold of a desk to help him stand up and lean against the wooden wall as he caught his breath. His gaze lingered on the barricaded window gap where some light shone through. He still had some time before the night came. It seems like he managed to make it to the messenger's post just as dusk settled over his small village.

With his heavy eyes, the steward swept his gaze all over the messenger post chamber. The desk, the bench, the shelves, the safe, the cabinets, the chests, they were already trashed but somehow the Crown's watches managed to barricade the windows before they left as if they already knew the village would be the harpy's next target.

"ugh," The steward swayed unsteadily, his strength slowly ebbing away as the precious blood left his body. He knew he was dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He realized he had a few moments to spare, so he hurried towards the aviary in the back of the messenger's post chamber. All of the postbirds were gone except for one, who remained inside its cage.

He deftly captured one of the postbirds from the aviary, fastening a message to its leg before setting it free.

"Please make this work," The steward prayed as The postbird flew off swiftly to the other side of the messenger's post, far enough away that no harpy was present.

Knowing he had his job done he went back to the messenger post chamber. He can still the harpies banging and clawing the door from the outside.

The dying late-teen leaned back to the wooden wall in the messenger post chamber. He had no strength left, his body and his leg were already numb, his eyes felt heavy, He took a glance at the chamber as his vision started to fade.

"So, this is a one-way fare, huh?" as he slid down to the floor and smiled.

He had risked it all but was rewarded with a chance at saving them all from destruction. His mortal wounds are nothing compared to the safety of the villagers.

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