There was once a quiet village. It had not always been silent though. It had once been war torn and broken by a siege of great demons. The people had finally driven the monsters back to their den, a massive crater in the flatlands. Unable to slay them though, they built an epic fortress around the chasm, swearing to hold the demons in the depths of the planet for all eternity.
A great epoch passed.
The town grew and grew. In time, neighboring counties, once alienated by war, began to again trade and travel into the town. The people began to grow fat with the riches of foreign lands.
The outsiders, who knew nothing of the demons that had rules this place, laughed at the villager's ancient paranoia and overly cautious fortress. The villager's explanation was further ridiculed. Why did they fear such an ancient superstition? Soon the town's people too, grew to resent the necessity of staging the great fortress. Generation after generation of young men marched to an ancient foe unseen for millennia. Why was this even needed after so long a quiet? Surely the demons, has they existed, had long moved on. So, the soldiers gradually became fewer and fewer, replaced one by one with mercenaries hired by the village's fat treasury until only a handful remained. For a time, all was well.
One day, a great light appeared in the sky. The people, enraptured, stared for days. As time passed, people began to attach religious significance to the great celestial light. The people began to worship it, held great festivals in its honor. Banquets lasted through the night as the people, drunk with foreign liquors, danced on and on.
As this continued, the light grew larger and larger, growing into another sun, as if it was feeding on their ecstasy. The celebrations grew grander and grader as it grew larger and larger in an endless feedback loop.
Then, one day, a black dot appeared in the center of the flame. As it grew, debate raged about what this could mean. As the days passed the object resolved itself into a cracked and broken circular circumference on their holy icon. The people continued their celebration, blind to the idea of any dire implications.
But one day, the object reached it's apex in the sky, and began to fall. The people watched, horrified as their god descended, revealing its source, a massive stone falling as if thrown by some vengeful spirit of the heavens. The stone fell, falling directly into the black abyss where the restless demons lay.
A cloud of black dust rose, blotting out all light, and an inky darkness descended on the land. The people, mute with shock, made not a sound as they stared in disbelief.
Then, a distant sound. A slow, rolling thunder grew in the distance. Demons began to pour from their crevasse. The mercenaries, long fat on their ill-gotten riches, ran in horror from the sweeping tide. The remainder of the army sworn to protect the town was quickly overrun. The demons swarmed over the battlements, devouring as they charged over the once glorious ramparts.
The people in the town, cursing their foolishness, armed themselves with whatever improvised weaponry they could find. In a fit of suspicious rage, they killed all the outsiders that had come to the village.
When the demons reached the town, they swept over the village. A bitter battle, fought not on a nameless field or a numbered hill, but in the homes and streets of their own village. As the demons were slowly pushed back the townsfolk, grim with their failure to heed the warnings of their forefathers, knew what must be done. The lit a ring around the city on fire, a great sheet of flames driving the darkness back. The people watched as their own cropped and livestock were burned, a leg amputated to save the body. Knowing they could never rid themselves of the demons this time, they built another great wall around the town, not the keep the monsters in but out. And so did they sit, bound by their besiegers behind the massive wall.