"Yet another BEAUTIFUL day at the convention centre!" I exclaimed as I walked through the bustling crowds with practiced ease, one hand clutching my red over-shirt and the other placed firmly upon the handle of a large black pull-along suitcase bearing eight of my favourite symbols of all gaming history. My eyes darted back and forth between the stalls, searching for my contact while still watching for anything interesting that I could snatch up while I was here.

I must have looked downright bonkers, from all the strange looks I was getting.

I had a routine, you see. Attend any and all conventions that sparked my interest whenever they came through my town and then wander aimlessly with a pocket full of cash until some collectable or poster signing caught my eye. It tended to work, as nine times out of ten I would go home with at least one new trinket.

This time, however, I was on a mission. I knew EXACTLY what I wanted, and there was no force on this planet that would keep me from my prize.

Finally, after what felt like hours of searching (though it was probably no more than ten minutes), I saw him. Just like I was told, he was running a stall of assorted brick-a-brack while dressed as The Merchant from a game that I forget the name of. Never played the game in question, as anything that fell into 'horror' games just didn't sit well with me, but I digress.

As I made my way over to his stall, I realised he had a pretty big selection of weaponry and gadgets from a multitude of games. He even had a replica of the key ring that hangs off of the Keyblade in Kingdom Hearts! Someone else got to it before me, though, so I let it go. The Merchant looked up at me, his mask shifting slightly as he (presumably) smiled. "Ah, my friend, I feel I know you! Have we met before?" He asked, extending a hand in greeting.
"Not in person, no." I replied, shaking his hand. Funny, his gloves felt as gritty as his character-costume had me believe they would be. "But we spoke over the phone. I'm Ace." His eyes lit up in recognition and he gave a throaty chuckle.
"Ah, yes, the Skylander enthusiast!" His voice was not particularly loud, but you could almost feel the power it suddenly held as he shifted to business.
"Yes. I believe you mentioned a Spyro figurine for sale?"
"Indeed I did, but I am curious as to why you require a character the company provides for free." It wasn't a question, but I felt compelled to give an answer for some reason.
"I got the game from a friend who had accidentally broken his Spyro. When I started collecting, for some reason, I just couldn't find that character at all. Now he's the last one I need, and I came prepared to pay any price you ask!" The Merchant seemed to consider this before nodding, seemingly satisfied with my answer.
"I'm a collector too, ya know." He said, pulling the Spyro toy from his large backpack under the desk and rolling the base around in his fingers.. "Though I prefer something with a little more… scare factor."
"Yeah," I laughed, "I can tell."

The Merchant placed the toy on the small table that lay between us, the light hitting it so that it looked just THAT much better. I hope I'm not drooling over this.
"So," I said, trying to get the conversation back on track. "How much do you want for it?"
Again, the mans mask creased in the way that made you think he was smiling, but you couldn't be sure. He placed his fingertips again one another and rested his elbow upon the table, one either side of the toy. After several minutes of him just staring at me (and me trying to look as stony-faced as possible(news flash: I'm not good at the stone-face)), he laughed again and reached into his bag again, this time fishing out a necklace with a large, oval stone the colour of a spring-time sky embedded into a casing of glimmering silver.

"This," he said, waving the necklace in my direction almost drunkenly, “is the amulet worn by Master Eon himself when the Core of Light was first forged."
"Sure." I replied, frowning. I then pointed at a small red and white sphere on a small stand in another corner of his stall. "And that's a real Pokéball."
"Don't blow things off just because you don't think they're real, kid. Listen, I'll give you the toy and the amulet for just a hundred bucks. The toy on its own is two hundred."
"WHAT!" I cried, slamming my hand down on his table. "That's extortion!"
The Merchant merely leaned back and shrugged, saying "You want the thing or not?"
Grumbling, I pulled the needed fund from my pocket and forked them over. I then snatched the toy and the amulet from the Merchant, walking over to the doors to the convention centre and making my way outside, ignoring his jeering.

Once outside, I sat at a small wooden picnic bench and lifted my carry case onto the table, opening it and placing the final occupant into his place. I sat there for a while, staring at the amulet that had halved the price and wondering why he wanted rid of it. I shrugged it off after a bit and lifted the long black string over my head. May as well get some use out of the thing, right?

With the amulet resting on my chest and my case once again in hand, I turned to make my way home.

And then everything went white.

{3rd Person POV - Castle of the Two Sisters, Everfree Forest}

Zecora, Zebra Shaman and personal friend to Princess Twilight Sparkle, had been trekking the Everfree Forest in search of certain plants and herbs in order to refill her larder when she had decided to check in on the Tree of Harmony. She wasn't expected to do it, but she had decided it best that somepony at least make sure once in a while.

On her normal visits she would wander down, just as she was now, and meditate under the Tree for a while. This allowed her to sense the ambient magic produced, as well as any other magic was attempting to tamper with it. So when Zecora walked into the cove in which the Tree of Harmony rested, she planted her long Everwood staff into the ground and removed her flowing brown cloak, hanging it off of a rock jutting from the wall. She then hopped up, balancing one-footed upon the tip off her staff.

Taking a deep breath, Zecora took a deep breath and entered into a meditative trance. For the longest time she remained motionless, naught but the breeze disturbing her. She was just about to finish up, already bending her leg slightly in order to hop down, when she felt… something flare to life. It's power spiked immediately, throwing her from the trance and onto the floor. The staff followed her, snapping off at the base and clattering to the floor. Zecora frowned.

Just what was that surge?

That was when she noticed the pulsing purple light shining from somewhere behind the Tree, where as it had previously been assumed that the cove ended at the Tree. When she went to investigate, though, Zecora noticed that the rear wall seemed less like a natural construct and more like somepony had stacked a multitude of rocks over a hole in the wall, then cast a spell to keep then steady for a long time. The shaman was amazed that she had never noticed this before, likely because the sheer power of the Tree's magic cloaked that of the barrier. Nevertheless, she took her broken staff and wedged it into one of the gaps in the rock wall, using it as leverage in order to pry the passage open.

On the fourth attempt, Zecora finally managed to pry loose a single, fist-sized stone. This in turn loosened the remainder of the wall, causing it to crumble away and reveal another small chamber further inside the cove.

As the zebra crept in, her eyes fell upon the source of the pulsing light. A cylindrical podium, tall enough to reach her waist and seemingly made from slabs of stone, was situated in the centre of the sanctum with a purple, viscous-looking fluid rippling within its Dias. Strange symbols were carved through the outer shell at eight regular intervals. As Zecora stared in awe, the glow from the fluid grew brighter and brighter to a near-blinding point. The shaman had to shield her eyes in order to observe the spectacle.

The substance began to churn, sloshing towards the sides and meeting back in the middle in an increasingly aggravated manner, seeming to be building up to something. The relating splashes reached higher and higher, yet never once did a single droplet of the stuff separate from the main source. Zecora afforded herself a moment to wonder just what the substance was.

And then, from seemingly nowhere, the mass of glowing purple something spat out an unconscious person.

The person was male, if his broad shoulders were anything to go by, and would probably reach around six feet tall when standing straight (a mere two inches above her own five foot ten). He was dressed in a seemingly simple white tee-shirt under a red flannel shirt, blue denim jeans, black faux-leather hiking boots and a matching set of fingerless batting gloves. His jet-black hair had three vertical white stripes running the length of the left side and reached roughly half-way down his neck. What intrigued the shaman the most, however, was the distinct lack of fur on his peachy skin.

Once her observation of the fur-less Earth Pony (He must be so, she had reasoned, as neither Wing nor Horn is shown!) was complete, Zecora wasted no time in hefting the boy onto her back and beginning the trek back to her hut. She grunted slightly as she adjusted his weight across herself.

'This shall be a long walk.'