You Versus The Universe

3.

><>2nd person POV<><
::: Previously: Your name was Anna Brinkston, an old enchantress with secret plots behind those long grey locks of yours. After killing king Myphalayus, a man named Frank Polkins made it his life's mission to hunt you down for revenge. He finally succeeded, at the cost of his own life. You reawakened later, the specific time not known yet; now a young man with black hair, golden eyes, and a strong tall stature. You renamed yourself Cody, Cody Cobblestone. You built a house alone in an open meddow with a few clusters of trees around. Your goal; to train and get used to the new you. :::

     After a month of living by yourself, you deem yourself ready to head out and find a town. You walk from the woods, an abnormally large iron axe hung over your right shoulder. It has taken you quite a bit to get used to being right-handed, especially since your longest go-round so far, which was as Anna, you were left-handed. Besides that, you have beefed up a little more than before, and your hands are properly calloused, holding lots of new scars on them from injuries. Adding to those scars are the ones scattered throughout your body now, collected while out fighting monsters late at night. You walk along the small trail that formed between your house and the small woods. On your way, you pass the crops you planted. It isn't much. Just enough to keep your stomach satisfied. You also pass the single pig you caught and are now thinking of releasing since you will be leaving soon and won't need it. Past the pig is a larger mammal tied to a fence post. It is a midnight black stallion with white speckles on his snout, a horse you were lucky enough to stumble into while out hunting. You already had the horse saddled and packed up with the necessaries and nothing else. You still need to rinse off and grab the rest of your things inside before leaving.

     Once you open the door to your small simple cottage, you look around at the shack you were content enough with to call home for the past four to five weeks. The floor is nothing but dirt, and the torches inside beginning to choke themselves out. You sigh, half excited to leave, but also glad for the protection this shelter provided. To your right is a rickety bed and a crafting table. To your left are a few chests and an armor stand. You had already emptied everything you needed from the chests, so you walk over to the large bucket on one of the chests. You dip your hands in the cool water and scrub off the dry mud. Once your hands are clean enough, you turn again to face your armor stand. Resting on it is a set of armor you handily made yourself. With the years of experience you have, you were able to coat the average iron armor in black dye, then decorating that with some red and blue detailing along the edging and elsewhere. This helps hide the ordinary armor, making it impossible for people to underestimate you. The armor fits perfectly when you slide it on, perfectly snug so it won't chafe against your skin or make you sweat profusely. Once you have on your armor, you take a few steps to make sure everything is fine. The armor almost seems like it is part of you. It should be like that since you had spent so much time perfecting the style, but that was a long time ago so you knew you were a bit rusty. It works just fine, and you head out with ease, carrying the helmet under your arm since it is annoying to wear all the time.

     Your horse neighs happily once you give him a carrot, and then you finish saddling up. 'Snort.' The pig nearby looks at you with large eyes from inside it's enclosure. You sigh and open the fence to let it out. The pig quickly wags it's tail and snorts a thanks, before running off to freedom. You chuckle at the sight before turning back to your horse and jumping up on his back. Once on, you double check your compass. If you made it correctly, it should lead you to the closest gathering of beds, in other words, a town. You aim your horse eastward before putting the compass back in your bag and placing the helmet on your head. The front is made to cover the top half of your face like a visor, while you can choose whether or not to wear a bandanna over your mouth and chin. One last look over your inventory, and you are off! You flick the reigns with incredible speed and your stallion takes role as your steed, snorting excitedly and rocketing off eastward. You automatically crouch down like a racehorse-man and raise yourself just over the saddle, allowing for more speed. It had been a while since you had specialized in riding, so it was a relief that it was all still natural to you. You had dedicated an entire life to horses alone after all.