5
It all began at his birth of course, the true beginning for all life. He was a child who dreamed much and worked as little as possible because his ideals lay with the fact life was meant for pure enjoyment not labor, mental or physical. He decided life would be more enjoyable if he had his own world, a world fabricated in his mind where he could live without the inconvenience of hard work and toil. When Steve had moments to himself he went to this world, however it all became shattered by the orders bellowed by his parents and superiors. The world he lived in was a simple one. His village, Griffendale, was a mass of the only construction by human life that was known. Small huts littered the expanse of a snowy plain surrounded by a wall of pointed logs inside of which human life roamed. Steve's parents were Zelpheron, the town smithy, and Elisa, the town carpenter.
He had inherited both their skills to a quite moderate degree, but there were many who saw him as undeserving of that prowess due to his laziness. He grew up and held onto the imaginary world he created, as it helped him cope with the duties of his life. Those included hunting, chopping wood, assisting his parents (which also consisted of fetching ores for his father to mold),and basic chores around his home. The work he had to do he did not like but he always had some form of a supervisor, be it his parents or a screeching bird that tore him from his imaginary world and awoke him to do his assigned task. He began to learn the reason labor was essential and unavoidable when at the age of 16 his parents tossed him out into the real world to live a life of his own in one of those compact, drafty huts that sustained heat during Winter.
Steve changed dramaticly when he found out the importance of working to earn happiness and contentment. He became well known by his hard work, which until his maturity was what he loathed most. He was now worthy of the inherited skills his parents had given him. Steve lived honestly by the labor of his own two hands. At the age of 25 his father died in a mining accident while collecting ores, the mine broke into a cave spider nest which resulted in the monsterous spiders inhabiting the upper mines after slaughtering the miners whom where untrained for combat. Three years later at the age of 28 his mother was murdered and robbed by an enraged madman at her carpentry shop. Now, it is the early stage of the fourth season cycle and he is 29,and he had decided to craft a boat to go after his mother's killer whom fled to the ocean with his mother's earnings. His parents had given him everything and made him see the world how it truly was. Steve took wood planks from what remained of mother's shop, which he had claimed after her death, and formed them into his boat to seize back his mothers dignity and earnings from the murderous thief. Over the years he had forged a strong will and unbreakable courage which fueled his endeavor.
So Steve set off, toward the southern ocean through the spruce forest at the edge of town, trotting through the snow dragging his boat behind him. He reached the ocean after a kilometer or so and began his voyage in his rather unworthy vessel. The ocean was deathly cold with a will of its own. A black line stained the horizon and only an experienced seaman would have realized it was a storm brewing in the distance, of this Steve was not aware. His rations began to diminish before the hours the storm would hit his miniscule, unworthy boat. He relaxed drearily on his craft for a long period. Then it arrived. Steve saw it at first in the distance as it drew closer. The sea expressed its loath in towering waves that crashed down without mercy on his vessel, which splintered into pieces under the impact. Steve was flung into the icy sea, but managed to grasp a board from the remains of his boat with the last reserves of his strength while he sputtered and hacked up salt water. His turquoise shirt became torn and battered in the struggle. The thunder roared a mighty roar and the ocean thrashed endlessly. Lightning coursed through the surface of the sea, arcing many directions which created a flashing web-like pattern. If not for the situation he was in, Steve would have admired it dreamily.
A wave soared above him, threatening his very life. The impact knocked him unconscious, he blacked out instantly. He would surely die in the sea without any resistance left in him.There was, however, a pinch of hope left.
A whirlpool appeared, a gaping mouth that swallowed the motionless figure of Steve. Then Steve awoke, the sea was calm and he was on the shore of some unknown continent. He spit out a mouthful of sand and gained his footing sluggishly. Steve reflected a moment over what he was doing and what had happened, which he rediscovered. He was suddenly gallvanized into action by the thought of his dead mother and dashed up the shore and into an oak forest. The pure rage and powerful will he possessed gave him renewed vigor to actually punch down trees. He made a shelter and tools with the resources he collected. Before he knew it, it was night time. He decided to rest to recover the strength he lost after battling the storm and gathering resources. Only he had enough stamina and will to overcome those obstacles out of all the inhabitants of Griffendale.
A sound awoke him. A strange, deep-throated, sighing sound accompanied by grunting. He opened the door to his shelter cautiously to see a monster, a zombie, a few meters from the entrance to his shelter. Steve shifted his gave from around the front of his shelter, in shock, seeing many creatures in the night shadows. There were massive spiders, similar to the cave spiders from the mine but larger, walking skeletons with bows, zombies, and one other strange creature he had never laid eyes upon nor heard of in any story. Before he could finish the thought, he heard an errie hissing sound behind him followed by a blaring "BOOM!", and felt a petrifying pain course through him. He woke up again on the beach, dazed and confused. Steve recalled to his shelter to find it decreased to splinters. Steve glared at the challenge he faced, he would find his mother's killer no matter what obstacle, and so his quest began.
This is the story of Steve before Minecraft.
He had inherited both their skills to a quite moderate degree, but there were many who saw him as undeserving of that prowess due to his laziness. He grew up and held onto the imaginary world he created, as it helped him cope with the duties of his life. Those included hunting, chopping wood, assisting his parents (which also consisted of fetching ores for his father to mold),and basic chores around his home. The work he had to do he did not like but he always had some form of a supervisor, be it his parents or a screeching bird that tore him from his imaginary world and awoke him to do his assigned task. He began to learn the reason labor was essential and unavoidable when at the age of 16 his parents tossed him out into the real world to live a life of his own in one of those compact, drafty huts that sustained heat during Winter.
Steve changed dramaticly when he found out the importance of working to earn happiness and contentment. He became well known by his hard work, which until his maturity was what he loathed most. He was now worthy of the inherited skills his parents had given him. Steve lived honestly by the labor of his own two hands. At the age of 25 his father died in a mining accident while collecting ores, the mine broke into a cave spider nest which resulted in the monsterous spiders inhabiting the upper mines after slaughtering the miners whom where untrained for combat. Three years later at the age of 28 his mother was murdered and robbed by an enraged madman at her carpentry shop. Now, it is the early stage of the fourth season cycle and he is 29,and he had decided to craft a boat to go after his mother's killer whom fled to the ocean with his mother's earnings. His parents had given him everything and made him see the world how it truly was. Steve took wood planks from what remained of mother's shop, which he had claimed after her death, and formed them into his boat to seize back his mothers dignity and earnings from the murderous thief. Over the years he had forged a strong will and unbreakable courage which fueled his endeavor.
So Steve set off, toward the southern ocean through the spruce forest at the edge of town, trotting through the snow dragging his boat behind him. He reached the ocean after a kilometer or so and began his voyage in his rather unworthy vessel. The ocean was deathly cold with a will of its own. A black line stained the horizon and only an experienced seaman would have realized it was a storm brewing in the distance, of this Steve was not aware. His rations began to diminish before the hours the storm would hit his miniscule, unworthy boat. He relaxed drearily on his craft for a long period. Then it arrived. Steve saw it at first in the distance as it drew closer. The sea expressed its loath in towering waves that crashed down without mercy on his vessel, which splintered into pieces under the impact. Steve was flung into the icy sea, but managed to grasp a board from the remains of his boat with the last reserves of his strength while he sputtered and hacked up salt water. His turquoise shirt became torn and battered in the struggle. The thunder roared a mighty roar and the ocean thrashed endlessly. Lightning coursed through the surface of the sea, arcing many directions which created a flashing web-like pattern. If not for the situation he was in, Steve would have admired it dreamily.
A wave soared above him, threatening his very life. The impact knocked him unconscious, he blacked out instantly. He would surely die in the sea without any resistance left in him.There was, however, a pinch of hope left.
A whirlpool appeared, a gaping mouth that swallowed the motionless figure of Steve. Then Steve awoke, the sea was calm and he was on the shore of some unknown continent. He spit out a mouthful of sand and gained his footing sluggishly. Steve reflected a moment over what he was doing and what had happened, which he rediscovered. He was suddenly gallvanized into action by the thought of his dead mother and dashed up the shore and into an oak forest. The pure rage and powerful will he possessed gave him renewed vigor to actually punch down trees. He made a shelter and tools with the resources he collected. Before he knew it, it was night time. He decided to rest to recover the strength he lost after battling the storm and gathering resources. Only he had enough stamina and will to overcome those obstacles out of all the inhabitants of Griffendale.
A sound awoke him. A strange, deep-throated, sighing sound accompanied by grunting. He opened the door to his shelter cautiously to see a monster, a zombie, a few meters from the entrance to his shelter. Steve shifted his gave from around the front of his shelter, in shock, seeing many creatures in the night shadows. There were massive spiders, similar to the cave spiders from the mine but larger, walking skeletons with bows, zombies, and one other strange creature he had never laid eyes upon nor heard of in any story. Before he could finish the thought, he heard an errie hissing sound behind him followed by a blaring "BOOM!", and felt a petrifying pain course through him. He woke up again on the beach, dazed and confused. Steve recalled to his shelter to find it decreased to splinters. Steve glared at the challenge he faced, he would find his mother's killer no matter what obstacle, and so his quest began.
This is the story of Steve before Minecraft.
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