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.

The quick racing speed slows down to a gallop, then a trot, and finally a slow, tired walk. It has been nearly an entire day and you have STILL not found a village yet. You must have woken up FAR from any town. Your horse finally winnies weakly for a small break. You look around for a small pond. After a couple more minutes, you find exactly what you are looking for. As the trees begain to slowly merge and grow thicker, you find a small pool of water under the shade of a few trees. You turn your stallion towards it and jump off once you are there. Your horse begins drinking immediately, and you take the time to stretch your legs. After a few stretches and rounds of just walking around the natural pool, you jump back on your horse and turn back to where you are headed. Several more hours pass, and the sun is finally setting, when you spot torchlight. You smile slightly at the sight of it. It is exactly what you are looking for. A decently sized town among the forest; the sound of bustling distant, but audible. Several watch towers stand around the small town but there are no walls. The town itself is mostly on top of a hill with a river flowing around one side of it. Most of the buildings on that side have docks, and boats are rowing in for the night. You can sense peace among the place. It is just wonderful seeing a place so untouched by war and chaos.

You sigh after a moment of just watching the town from afar. The setting sun shines in your eyes, however, reminding you of the danger creeping up with the night. You see only one bridge from your side of the river to the town you want to reach and it is pretty far off.

"Yha!" You order your horse, flicking the reigns again. Your horse bolts down the hill for the bridge. You duck down as close as possible so hopefully any early mobs would just think your horse had a weird bag on his back.

Twang!

That didn't work. An arrow flew right over your shoulder and into the tree you zoomed past. More arrows flew after you. Groans rose from the darkness, accepting the horrifying forms of the undead. It was survival time now. No more simple games or training. This is real life. You could die. Your horse could die. You begain to sweat at the thought of it. You came too far to die so soon. You really didn't want another go-round like your first, where you died within the first couple weeks. At least it wouldn't be of hunger this time.

You pull out your new iron sword and sit sideways on your horse, facing the skeletons. If they manage to slow you down, then the zombies will pick you off from there. You have to make sure no arrows injure you, or your horse. Luckily, you had dedicated an entire life to archery as well, and you know your ways when it comes to aiming and arrows. An arrow is shot. Time slows.. You see it is aiming for your horse's head and react right away, sending your blade up and deflecting the arrow in the nick of time. Another arrow comes, aimed at your head this time. You do the same, tightening your legs around the horse's waste and leaning back enough to limbo just under the fast-flying projectile. Man, these skeletons have some good aim. After thinking about that, you put together what must be going on.. OF COURSE! You will have to warn everyone of the incoming danger once you get into town.. Swiftly, you continue deflecting arrows up and down until your horse finally reaches the bridge. As you are about to race across it, you see the bridge has split itself in two, like some modern draw-bridge. On the other side are some people still cranking the two sides away from each other.

"Hey!! Over here!! Heey!!!" You shout over the bridge. They spot you, but don't do anything, they just stop altogether.

"Friend or foe!!?" One of them shouts over.

"Friend!!!" You shout back, desperate for their help.

"How can we be so sure!?!" The same guy yells back.

"WELL THEN WHY DID YOU ASK IN THE FIRST PLACE!!?" You pretty much scream. There is silence on the other side of the bridge.

"G- good point, sir!!" The guy shouts. To your great joy and astonishment, the bridge is quickly cranked back to normal for you to race across.

"YHA!!" You shout, flicking the reigns once again, harder this time, and riding your horse with almost lightning speed across the bridge. When you are half way across the bridge, you let your guard down. When you are half way across the gridge, an arrow passes your point of detection, burying itself deep into your left shoulder blade. The pain is so sudden that your new body jolts unconscious right away. When your horse makes it to the other side of the bridge, you are slumped over it's neck, barely still on the saddle, blood dripping all the way down your neck, back, and arm. A small part of you worries that this is how you die, that this is the ending of all endings. You worry this every time to some ammount, but especially now, especially now that you have still not achieved your goal.