The Initial Treasure

A meticulously preserved Ammonoid fossil. Little Brant once stood atop a table, proudly declaring to his father that he had found a treasure hidden among the books. His father took off his glasses for a closer look, recognizing it as the Ammonoid fossil tucked away at the bottom of the bookshelf. Seizing the moment, his father recounted an adventure about unearthing the past and seeking the truth. That Ammonoid became Brant's first treasure and marked the beginning of his journey into a world of endless adventure.

All the World's His Stage

A sculpture of stacked masks, each crafted for a different play and occasion. On stage, he is the star, the center of all eyes. With each mask, he breathes life into the tale, captivating the audience with joy and wonder. But offstage, there is no need to conceal his true self. In that moment, he is, at last, simply Brant.

Testament to a Captain

A tricorn hat, embroidered with the emblem of the Troupe of Fools. Brant still remembers the first performance he witnessed aboard the Fool's Sail. The captain, undeterred by the crashing waves, led his crew through the Stygian Fjords and placed a tricorn atop the head of the eager young boy. The captain, with a playful wink, called him, "Captain Brant." Years later, Brant also remembers his own first performance. Standing high on the mast, he shouted commands to raise the sails and steer the ship clear of deadly whirlpools that threatened to swallow them whole. At that moment, one of the crew reverently placed the very same tricorn upon his head. Cheers erupted as the entire crew shouted in unison, "Captain Brant! Captain Brant!"

An Improvised Afternoon at the Tavern

A crack of thunder shattered the bartender's rhythm as he shook the cocktail mixer, and the downpour that followed immediately dampened the last bit of cheer among the patrons. The tavern, now nothing more than a soggy refuge, was bereft of any tale worth telling. The bartender shook his drink in slowly, the faint clink of ice barely a sound. Patrons yawned incessantly as if even their drinks had lost their flavor. "Well, well... this hardly feels like a tavern, does it, friends?" A young man stepped through the door, bringing a gust of damp air and salty rainwater with him. He strode straight to the bar, swiping the empty glass from a patron nearby. "Oi! What are you—" "Shhh..." the young man interrupted, casually tossing a handful of Shell Credits into the bartender's tip jar. "Fill it to the brim, would you? It's not every day I find myself in a tavern. Surely, there's something of more... entertainment value here?" "Entertainment? You must be joking. Look outside, the rain isn't going anywhere. And don't get me started on the menu. Duller than a sack of potatoes, and twice as overpriced." "Of course, I did come in from the rain. See? My hair is practically drowning in it. But even in a storm, there are tales to be had. Like this charming little wanted poster." He deftly plucked the poster from the patron's hand. "Ah, we already talked about this. Something about the Immortal Returned, wearing a strange mask... What did he do again...?" "He and his crew ventured through fog thick with sirens, dredging up shiploads of songs from the ocean's deepest whirlpools. They rescued the Pilgrim's Sailscapsized by towering waves and reclaimed stolen supplies from pirates!" "Hmm... That's not quite right, is it? You're just telling a story now!" "Ha, of course, it is a story!" He laughed, raising his glass, "Drink up, my friend, and I'll tell everyone the real tale of the Immortal Returned!" The glasses clinked. In an instant, the dreary tavern was transformed into a stage of imagination. Brant swiped the patron's hat and placed it on the bartender's head, his eyes sparkling as he presented the bartender's long-awaited rose to the woman beside him. The bartender, now donning the hat, became the ship's helmsman. The bald patron became a sailor, firing cannons at Tacet Discords from the rolling sea. The woman who received the rose burst into a spontaneous dance. With every spin of the young man's yarn, the patrons found themselves part of his intoxicating tale. The revelry ended abruptly when the door crashed open. "Now <i>this</i> feels like a tavern!" The leader of the intruders sneered, holding up a wanted poster. "Take him, lads. The reward is doubled this time!" "How about saving it for the next time!" With a mocking bow, the young man tossed a mask alight with violet flames into the air, vanishing in the commotion it caused. When the dust settled, the tavern was filled with colorful ribbons, balloons, and scattered gifts from the sea. The tavern's patrons picked up the scattered gifts. To their surprise, each one was a ticket to a show by the Troupe of Fools.