_____Cold, slow at first, began clawing itself into my extremities. I was cold. I tried to open my eyes, but they were frozen shut. I tried to move, but I couldn't. I was cataleptic, but I was here. I became aware of chilled air beginning to creep into my chest. Hours and hours passed, and I willed myself to move a finger. Success! I could hear the chirp of a Taillow, and little footsteps nearby. I felt a prod. I tried to force myself to move an arm. Again, the prod, twice this time. I could spasm in my elbow, and I nearly had a fist formed. A half hour later, the prod came again. This time, I gasped, air flooding my lungs all at once, I coughed, mucus had coated my throat. I coughed until I couldn't see. A wet sticky slime flew out of my throat, an unpleasant taste, but at least I could taste. I rubbed the frost from my eyes, and I could see it was evening. I could move, see, taste, hear, feel and smell, and that's all I needed. I lifted my torso away from a rut in the ground, and I scared away whatever prodded me, but it came back. It was a Zangoose. He looked young, maybe a few months old. Couldn't have been more than a Lv 5.
"Hey, thanks for waking me up."
Zangoose: "Zaan, zangoo."
I sat for a moment, feeling rather cold, but okay for now. I searched my memory, and tried to remember, but I didn't remember my name. I can't remember how I got here, I can't remember who I was, and I'm lost.
"This sucks. Zangoose, I don't remember who I am."
Zangoose seemed to say: There must be some clue.
I checked my pockets, pouches, and found a wallet. It was emblazoned with an emblem I didn't recognize. Inside was a Trainer Card. On the header it said Vincent Black, the date was from eight years ago. In my wallet was 300 pokedollars. In a pouch on my side I found a great ball.
Vincent: "Turns out my name's Vincent, and I found a Great Ball. What do you say? Wanna help me a while longer?"
Zangoose seemed a bit worried.
Vincent: "It'll be okay, I owe you one for waking me. I promise I'll pay up."
Zangoose: "Zaan." He walked up and pushed the button with his nose. The indicator went red for a little while, then turned white, and made a strange metal sound.
Vincent: "Now let's get out of this cold."
Vincent saw mountain peaks on his left, and headed right. No point in going to an even colder climate…I need a warm building and preferably a hospital. The forest path was easy enough to spot, regardless of the snow, and a bridge sat frozen on a pond. Vincent crossed the bridge, and exited the forest. A gradually sloping hill lie before me, I could barely walk, and I pictured myself tumbling down the hill and landing on the rocks below.
Vincent: "Let's just take it easy here."
Some kind soul had carved stairs into the hillside, so it wasn't terribly difficult to traverse of an ordinary person, but Vincent's muscles had atrophied a little, and it was like learning to walk all over again. Twice he slipped, but he continued on, determined to get somewhere safe. as he descended, the humidity increased, providing a better temperature. This was Vincent's drive. He would reach a better temperature, find an Inn, and do his own therapy to regain his lost muscle mass. Finally reaching the bottom, Vincent saw a tunnel, and on his right, there was a farm house. He walked up to the farm house, and seeing it was locked, he rang the door bell.
Vincent: "I'm sorry to disturb you at this time, but I just woke up in the forest. I was wondering if you could help me out with some food, I have some money."
Grandpa: "No, times are hard all over."
Vincent: "Wait! Please! Ugh!"
I can't believe that old fart. He runs a farm, why wouldn't he have enough to spare? I even offered him money…Why didn't he accept?
______The only indication that there was a city nearby was a spire-top standing behind a hill with a tunnel in it. Upon entering the tunnel, he saw that it was a sort of checkpoint.
Guard: "You're the 29th person to enter this way, this month."
Vincent: "Neat, tell me, what's the date?"
Guard: "It's February the 12th. Welcome to Artagnan, Port hub of Iljoa."
That makes me 18. I had my birthday recently.
When he entered, he could see a shipyard opposite him, and a large, white road lay in canals between the elevated buildings. He followed the road to the left, coming across a wide plaza. at the end of the plaza was the city's Inn, and there Vincent entered.
Warmth immediately flooded my cold exterior, and I was happy just to be inside again.
Cici: "Welcome to The Gateway Inn, my name is Cici, how can I help you?"
Vincent: "I need a room, and a meal."
Cici: "The kitchen's closed, but I can get you some leftovers for a reduced price. How about…45 for the room, and 5 for the leftovers?"
Vincent: "I guess I can't be picky. Go ahead." Vincent handed her a hundred pokedollar bill, and she gave him back a fifty."
Cici: "Here's your key, and I'll be up with your food in a bit."
Vincent: "Thanks Cici."
Cici: "No problem, you just come get me if you need anything."
When I entered the room, I could see a vent coming from a fireplace on the first floor. I opened it, and enjoyed the rush of warm air that flooded the area. Vincent pulled off hard, armored boots and let his feet absorb the heat of the fire below. Vincent was just now realizing how strange he looked compared to the grandfather at the farm and Cici, the receptionist. What sort of person was I? Did I regularly spend time in the mountains? It seemed familiar enough, but I need to go to a hospital. I need to find out clues about my past. I don't even know where to start.
Cici: "Room service."
Vincent unlocked the door and she handed him the tray.
The meal was a turkey pot-pie with a side of potatoes, stuffing, and spinach. A glass of iced was included, but there was entirely too much sugar in it. Regardless, it was filling, and Vincent felt the lethargy ensue. I should be getting to bed, I'll admit, I'm a little worried I won't wake up again, but at least I'm in a public place. I'm sure someone will take care of me. This thought was comforting to vincent, and he took off the various gear he had on him. There were two pouches, a utility belt empty of tools, a chevron of hard, light armor, a long sleeved coat, insulated against the cold, with a hood made of boiled leather slats. His pants had many pockets, and a set of knee-guards were sewn into the material. All were shed but his underwear, and he climbed into the bed to warm it with his body. He left his clothes to dry in front of the vent, and drifted to an uneasy sleep filled with images of an angry girl, and nightmares about being helpless and motionless.