YouGetToNameTheGM !!BfgNt0j+IPD 

So it seems our bootleg is an eccentric but sociable pony that is heavily informed by their emotions and lacks subtly. Census is out on the sex, and the age is either Teen or Deathbed. We can come back to those later though. Right now we need to figure out what age our cute knock-off appeared in the world as. Remember, if you want to be a new born we can always do time skips.

~~~~~~green starts here~~~~~~~

> You awaken.
> The pounding din of water against grass and cobble road surrounds you.
> The damp air hurts to breathe, and the cold is already seeping through your skin.
> Looking up you see flickering of a lamp post, a lonely bastion of light that rests beside the country road.
> Besides that is a bench with an attached litter bin.
> Beyond in both directions is a cobbled road, that reaches out past the light of the lamp and into the darkness.
> You push yourself up onto each fours, your legs quaking feebly beneath you as your shiver.

Prompts:
> How do you feel?
> What do you do?
> Anything else is fine too

< Roll perception >

[Perception - ???]

> There is noise all around you, the most noticeable being the crash of water around you.
> In addition to the sound of the rain, you can hear the distant rumble of thunder.
> Above you, the lamp makes a soft buzz.
> If you follow the road in the direction it takes before it fades into the darkness you a collection of lights tightly bunched together in the distance.
> In the opposite direction, you see the flicker of another light, but only a singular point.

> Your now completely soaked, and and the weight of your wet body makes it hard to balance.
> The cycles of shivers nearly making you fall on its own.

< Lie down under the bench. If you have enough strength, kick over the trashcan and check the contents, maybe it has a newspaper you could use to cover >

[Buff - Failure]

> You strike the can with as much might as you with two hoofed buck.
> Several infact, but each one ends up with you falling over instead of the can.
> Unable to topple the bin, you hide under the bench.
> While it hasn't done anything to stop the cold, it has turned the tan-inducing rain into a series of drips.

[You have become exhausted from the cold and damp]

> As you wait under the bench, you begin to realize that the single point of light is starting to sway.
> It's getting closer.
> Slowly the form of a giant cart begins to take shape in the distance.
> You can't tell how many ponies pull it, but there are at least two.
> It moves slowly though, it will be some time before it gets here.

< Rest a little, then try to wave a hoof at them. Getting in the rain too soon is not worth it. Try to stay awake while resting. >
< I agree with the other Anon. No need to risk getting hurt while the cart is doing the moving. I'd also say that we're scared. Let's try to remember how we got here >

> You fix your gaze on the swaying light in the distance.
> It's so far away, and the ground is so damp and cold.
> You shiver, your breath twirling in wisps out of your mouth.
> The waiting turns to thoughts, but your head is fuzzy and full of noise.
> It's hard to think, between the world around you and the sense of dread that fills you.
> You know there are questions to ask, but they're out of reach.
> It doesn't serve to make you frustrated though, as you rest your head on your front legs.
> Just more tired.

[Tough - Minor Failure]

> With the light so far away and your head aching you let your eyes close.
> Just for a moment, to warm yourself up as you begin to think of a warm bed.
> Several times your eyes grow heavy, but slumber eludes you with every cough.
> Unable to sleep you merely rest your eyes instead, opening them to periodically check on the cart's progress towards you.

> As you wait your throat grows dry from your coughing.
> You're not sure how long it took for that to happen, or how long it took the cart to approach.
> But you're roused from your wandering thoughts of misery as the sound of wheels and hoove begin to overtake the pouring rain.
> The point of light has ground to reveal the carriage, pulled by four earth ponies at a steady but slow pace.
> They will be passing soon.

Prompt:
> How will you get their attention?
> How do you feel about getting a cough?
> How do you feel about the arrival?
> Whatever else you want to say or do

< >blocks their path >
< 
  >how do you feel about getting a cough?
  bad. i sure hope we dont have some kind of incurable pony disease but we need help from doctors.>
  >How do you feel about the arrival?
  probably a mix of desperation and trepidation. We are hopeful for any kind of help, but at the same time, we don't know who to trust.
>
<
  Moving is hard, so at least rolling back in the light and waving something, moving target is easier to spot.
  You feel friggin ill and the throat hurts from coughing. Maybe you're even unable to scream at this point.
  It's either them or death, and your self-preservation instinct still works somehow. We're obviously better off with somebody, since we woke up in the middle of nowhere and vinyl didn't scratch and narrator doesnt ask if we wonder how they ended in this situation.
>

> The scratch of a record calls out beyond time and space.
> In that moment, the world's colors fade and grow distant.
> The power of monologue rises inside of you.
> How did you get here?
> Contemplating, you struggle.
> You remember being in bed but...
> There is nothing other than that, even though you feel like there should be more to recall.
> So you're left with two truths:
> That yes, that is you in the cold and damp.
> And you have no idea how you ended up in this situation.
> Slowly, very slowly, the sound of stomp becomes distinct hoofsteps.
> The ponies pulling the carriage are moving at a reserved pace due to the rain, each one cloaked in bright yellow rain jackets.
> Pulling yourself out from under the bench, you re-acquaint yourself with the rain.
> It feels horrible.
> But you steel yourself, coughing as you climb up on the bench.
> Even though its only a bit higher up, the cold wind is far worse now that you're fully exposed.
> But as terrible as you feel, the desperation is making you act.
> Possibly fear too, but your thinking isn't clear enough to notice the different.

> Rather than yelling into the rain you decide to make a racket instead.
> With how sore your throat is, you doubt you'd be loud enough to make any affect anyways.
> To that end you try to tip the can to make a scene..

[Moves - Failure]
[Tough - Failure]

> The wet surface of the bench is slick however.
> As you try to topple the trashcan from a higher vantage point, you loose your footing and slip.
> Onto the ground, head first.
> The pain is quick, but quickly fades as a sense of vertigo overtakes you.
> Vainly trying to keep your eyes open, you see the carriage and crew hustling, but your vision fades to black soon after.

< Cue trippy dream sequence with memories. >

> "Your soups gonna be like your wife, if you keep ignoring it for that TV"
> The bus driver next to you chuckles.
> You're in a dinner, rolling your eyes.
"Yea yea, well I never liked soup piping hot anyways."
> You reach into the sound and pull out a long list of names.
" And it's not like I have any pressing matters with these idiots either. So lets just watch the show instead."

> "Whatever you say, it's all good to me if you wanna wait around a bit."
> The Busman leans back despite being on a bar stool, supported by some unseen force as he starts crocheting.
> His agile hands are like your dear Grandma's than your best friend.
> It kind of makes you happy, until he starts working the soup into his knit work.
> You stab your fork into the threads to pull the soup out of his stitches.
> It takes a moment, but you eventually get it back into your bowl.

"You know, I'd appreciate if you DIDN'T try to take my soup. I said I didn't like it piping hot, not that I hated it."
> The Busman just shrugs.
> "Slip of the hand, you know how it goes. Yarn really gets everywhere, especially with the cat around."

> The black cat, the one in the painting to your right.
> Poor thing always looked so miserable when you came to eat here.
"Well maybe if you fed it, it wouldn't make such a mess."
> The bus man laughs.
> "I'm pretty sure feeding it is what got it so tangled up in the first place."
> He's right, the soup did get all over the things fur.
> You'll need to put it through the wash before you can help it.

"Say, do you have any idea where I could buy a good washing machine anyways?
> "Maytag obviously. Sure you could go for something cheap, but wouldn't you want something that lasted?"
> This time you laugh.
> Coming from him that's a pretty good point.
"Yea. I guess I would wouldn't I? Think I'll go get some soap while I'm out too."
> "See you around then?"
"As always."
> You get up and give the soup covered cat a pet before leaving.

> "-have no idea..."
> You feel the world of sound slowly encroach upon you, as you begin to wake up.
> Two voices are discussion something quietly, clearly adults.
> You open your eyes.
> Or try to, before the blinding light makes you close them again.
> The sudden shift makes you hold your breath, but the two adults keep talking; they didn't seem to notice.
> "It IS clearly a child — are you saying we should have left it there?"

> Opening your eyes again, this time slowly, you look around yourself.
> The two ponies in question talking are adults, a pegasus and an earth pony.
> In a carriage.
> That you too are in.
> It takes a moment before you vaguely remember trying to hail a carriage in the rain.
> Look in front of you though, you spot another pony.
> A pegasus foal with a book about as big as as they are in their lap.
> From this angle it's hard to make out what the book is, but it has a long of colors.
> The little winged pony giggles with delight every few seconds, and occasionally turns the page with a deal of effort.

>What to do, what to feel?

< relieved that we're out of the rain, but confused. Can we stand? how's our cough or general pain. >
< try to talk to the filly if we can >
< Might feel nervous about the adults discussing their uncertainty of us. Greet the filly and ask where we're going. >
< guess we're starting out as a colt, makes some sense how we couldnt do anything to the garbage bin. No idea what that business with the bus was about, would that dream even stick with us or be totally forgotten about with waking up? >