Rei-Ports: No 2

MASS MAYHEM MARS MELLOW MERCHANT MEET-UP By: Bustea Rei Porter As my lovely readers are well aware I am both a traveller of lands, and a seeker of the truth, and just the other day I was lucky enough to find myself with an enticing combination of the two! This put me in the enviable position of being able to push aside all irrelevant scuttlebutt that many may have heard, and report my complete unbiased experience of what exactly went down at the penta-yearly merchant gathering. But first, before we get ahead of ourselves, allow me to paint one of my little “word-pictures” you all like so much, so that those of my splendid readers who have never had the pleasure of attending the event first hand get to experience it for themselves!

At the southern reaches of Pastura is a circular gaping maw in the ground which goes deeper than the curious eye can see. Around this hole through design or providence, stand three large boulders all equidistant, and all of the same size and shape. This circle is a meeting place for many nomadic tribes, and home to a few religious individuals.

Once every five years, the normally quiet area becomes a bustling congregation of tents and people as the nomadic tribes gather together to conduct their trade, inviting outsiders to join them as they barter for any manner of item from knick-knack to highly sought after prize. Magic, it seems, is what brings these tribes together, as they appear between one moment and the next on the designated morning, and the moment the clock reaches midnight and the sun disappears, so too do the nomadic merchants as well as any travellers, returning from whence they came.

Some beings that can be found on this single day are said not to exist on any other day, or that if they do, they must exist on some other plane of existence beyond the feeble reach of the denizens of the Liminal Plane, and perhaps even beyond the reach of the newly forming rifts. Whatever the case may be, this “market” is as lively as any common flea market, if not moreso, and something can be found for any visitor should they know where to look and happen to have just the right item with which to trade. The celebratory feeling in the air is hard to miss, and many look forward to the event and mourn its passing as the midnight bell tolls.

As I am sure you all can guess, I was pleased as peaches to be attending such a rare event, and brought a few knick-knacks of my own for trade in hopes of something catching my eyes. The day began simply enough with the appearance of hundreds of tents across the wide open field, and the festivities began in short order. I had never seen such a collection of items and events before in my life. From exotic clothing, a small wrestling ring, and a collective of centaurs bartering for metals, to a rather impressive hammer, which in a brief demonstration was able to make and unmake any number of items from simple materials, or even a salesman of fire, it seemed like the options were neverending!

Given the events that soon came to pass, I consider myself lucky that I was able to speak to the gentleman frog that sold fire before disaster struck! The enterprising individual, who was set off from other booths for safety reasons was selling a wide range of merchandise including smokeless fire, fire from the edge of the universe, apocalypse fire, fire that burns even while submerged in underwater, fire from a universe that doesn't exist, and something he called “Firefly Season 2.” Unfortunately for the poor fellow, he has had poor luck following him for a while it would seem, as he had recently had his shop burnt down by some sort of salamander person. To my deep regret, I informed him that I would be back to trade for one of his wares as soon as I had eaten a meal, and left briefly to trade for a delicious loaf of Pasturan bread. For those who have never sampled Pasturan bread, I would highly recommend the experience, as it is, perhaps, the best bread on numerous planes, and most certainly the best on the Liminal Plane.

Upon my return to the area, siren spells were ringing, and heavy smoke hung in the air. I rushed through the crowd as quickly as I could, and lo and behold, there stood the salesfish arguing with the snailfolk fire brigade, his shop in ruins behind him. From what I was able to discern, his shop had once again been ruined by external forces: a nearby tent had somehow levitated from the ground and fallen directly over his highly flammable shop and flaming wares. Most might doubt his tale, my dearest readers, but not I, for I saw a small group of individuals slinking away. I gave the lovely salesfrog my condolences, as well as my contact information, before swiftly making tracks and following the group, only to discover that they were none other than students of the Lockstitch Academy and crewmembers of the newly minted HTML Wanderpus! Now my sweet readers, I was as inclined to jump to conclusions as anyone would be, but my dedication to the truth wouldn’t allow it! I wanted to be sure of what happened, so I listened in a bit on the group’s conversation and was surprised to prove my initial belief incorrect! A pink axolotl was speaking with their compatriots, clearly distressed about a sphinx of all creatures being the cause of the tent’s brief flight. Now mind you, I know as well as any that sphinxes are hardly common, but with no reason to be lying in the moment, I believed their words.

With that in mind, I returned to the scene of the arson feeling quite a bit like a sleuth as I searched for the telltale marking of a sphinx’s prints, and what did I see, but a mess of markings that could have been nothing but! I pointed the prints out to the fire brigade and much to the gentle-fish’s relief they believed him! Oh, I must say it was the bee’s knees to assist such a hard-working man in clearing his name, and he dealt with the situation with such a resigned decorum, that I would be lying if I said I was not charmed, ladies, gents, and otherwise. We parted ways of course, as he had much to deal with, and I had more of the event to see, but it is my hope that I and others will be able to purchase his intriguing wares in the future to help him recover from his loss.

From that point on, my lovely readers, it seemed that day simply sped by. I saw more shops than I could even properly recount, but my favourites perhaps were the shop that was positively swamped in writing materials, and the lovely songstress that sang melodies and lyrics that even my well-travelled self didn’t recognize. The only interruption to the day, however, was certainly a notable one: one of the three boulders broke. According to the small group of the believers in the area, these boulders represent the sanctity of the trade and customs of the area, and because of this there was quite a hubbub and several fingers were pointed. There was, as you may already know, a brief incident in which the Lockstitch Academy was believed to be thieves, and though it was eventually proven incorrect, it appeared to be a case of semantics and half-truths on the side of the academy as well as the one that was accusing them and being accused in turn.

Knowing what I did about the previous occurrence with the sphinx, and my occasional run-ins with the Lockstitch Academy group throughout the day (I saw one member of their group clearly out of uniform and making doe-eyes at the songstress, going so far to accept a handkerchief from her), I have to ask the question that I’m certain most are asking at this point. Is the Lockstitch Academy truly qualified enough to do what they claim to do, and if so, can we even trust them?

If you have an opinion my sweet cherries, feel free to send it by post so that it can make it into our issue’s next op-ed piece, which I will personally be picking! Until next time my curious cuckoos!