With blurry eyes, steeve a young man awakens to the bright cubed sun and the hard soil beneath him. With unsteady legs he rises, the wind gently blowing the grass and the flowers bending their stems. In the light of day all seems peaceful, the soft "baaa" of sheep and the cluck of chickens bring a steady calm to the man, before his stomach rumbles commanding sustenance but with nothing to eat he knows he must venture further. He punches trees collecting the wood and using it to create tools, a shovel, an axe, pickaxe and a sword (though he doesn't understand what use it may have yet) eventually in a moment of luck an apple drops from the tree he just cut with his new axe, elatedly he consumes it with haste and although he still desires more it is enough to tide him over. He wanders further collecting dirt and other materials, hoping they will be of use, he wanders through caves and caverns, not noticing the slow setting of the sun, he yawns, all of the walking and exploration catching up to him as his footsteps waiver, deciding he needs somewhere to settle down for the night he finds a shallow cave, he gets to work placing down his crafting table, and with his remaining wood making a chest so he may unburden himself of his load. Finally, as the sun dips below the horizon he makes a bed and pushes it to the back wall ready for rest, the opening of the cave staring back at him, he lies down and as his eyes begin to droop shut and the dark of slumber begins to invade. Without warning his eyes shoot open, his head whips to and fro, frantic with alarm, when a deep groan emanates from the dark, along with the scuttling of many small legs, Steeve speeds towards his chest where he mistakenly abandoned his sword, tripping and nearly tumbling over in haste, when he is forcefully hit backwards, he groans out in pain blindly swinging his sword hitting the creature back and back, until it's forced from his cave, Steeve franticly throws block on block of random materials to close the cave entrance creating a mirage of stone wood and dirt. He sighs believing he is safe when eight dark thin and hairy legs pry the fat-bodied spider through the one-block square he'd failed to fill. Glowing red eyes stare at him with contempt, unluckily for it Steeve, fuelled by exhaustion, fear and frustration, hurls himself forward slicing in quick blows, blood spills both his and the spiders, when finally it falls dusting up into nothing but a spool of string, Steeves's chest heaves with laboured breath, as his wooden sword crumbles, braking, without hesitation he fills the hole, falling haphazardly into his bed once again, as he drifts off to sleep he swears to himself that he will become stronger, so strong that he will never have to feel fear like that again.
