Liftwick Market
Always a step behind the roiling spectacle of the Carnival, the Liftwick Market is a phantom bazaar—a crooked tangle of tents, stalls, wagons, and lantern-lit carts that appears overnight, like moss growing along the edges of dream. Though not part of the Carnival itself, the Market hunts its echoes, drifting through the Mists of the Domains of Dread in pursuit of the attention, desperation, and vulnerability that the Carnival leaves in its wake.
Liftwick is not a place—it’s a presence. Fey creatures, tricksters, scavengers, and exiles from realms unknown flock to it, bound by bargains, obsessions, or exile, offering whispered temptations to travelers and thrill-seekers who wander too far from the bright lights of the Carnival.
Liftwick is quieter than the Carnival, but far more unnerving. It lacks the overt joy and pageantry—replacing it with low music, muttered deals, and a feeling that something unseen is watching the watchers. Children sometimes vanish here. Dogs won’t enter.
And always, always, there’s the feeling that you’ve seen this place in a dream before, or perhaps will see it again after death.
The Rules of Liftwick
- No violence may be witnessed.
- Every deal has weight.
- Nothing is free—not even leaving.
- Do not ask who runs the Market.
- Never speak ill of the Carnival while inside.
The Liftwick Market is a mercenary court of fey exiles, a shifting trail of danger and temptation that follows the Carnival across the Domains of Dread, exploiting its wake to offer wonders for unbearable prices. It is not malicious in the way mortals understand—only inevitable, drawn to need, desire, and the tiniest cracks in a traveler’s resolve.
Tourism
Liftwick has no fixed map. Its shape shifts from night to night. Its corridors are confusing, sometimes non-Euclidean, and rarely look the same twice. Common sights include:
- Willowbone tents adorned with living embroidery that weeps when touched.
- Lanterns hung on skeletal trees that glow with bottled emotions: jealousy, dread, delight.
- Wagons on spider legs that reposition themselves when unobserved.
- A broken clocktower, ticking backward, around which rare items are auctioned in riddles or memories.
At the edge of Liftwick, there is always a fog-wrapped boundary—a place where the world becomes too quiet and the air too thick. Some believe this is where the Market bargains directly with the Mists.
The creatures who run Liftwick’s stalls are fey in origin—but twisted by grief, betrayal, or exile. Most wear masks or glamours and operate under many names. They trade in things mundane merchants never would:
- Mist Talismans: Small objects imbued with the power to guide or anchor travelers across domains—but never safely or without cost.
- Living riddles: Puzzles that must be fed, solved, or ignored at peril.
- Stolen truths: Memories, names, and moments of clarity sold in vials or pressed into coins.
- Emotion-forged blades, cloaks woven from shadowmoths, and contracts written in reverse ink.
- Secrets of the Carnival, offered only in whispers and always a trap in disguise.
Every merchant has rules, often unspoken, and the price is rarely gold. They may ask for:
- Your reflection.
- A promise to never speak your name again.
- A lie you truly believe.
- Your last dream, plucked from your eyes.
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