Fighting Tooth and Nail

[Ceidon]

AKA Ceidon and Co. Search for Duffy's Sh*t - a League Production. We love text editors and no judgments. Click here to learn more!

Closed to Rayleigh, Arden and Shinsou or their various alts.

The streets of the Theater District of Radasanth were usually full of music and good cheer. Today they were full of protests, arguments and general distain. The source of the trouble: Duffy Bracken.

"Praise be to the thayne, Duffy Bracken, who protected us from Oblivion and saved the world" sang one bard priest.

"Blasphemy!" called out another. "Duffy was a just a man. You bring shame to the true lords of theater, Khal'jaren and J'edda."

In all, Ceidon found the debate rather amusing, but alas, that was not his purpose for traversing the cultural side of Radasanth that day. No, the young scholar was looking for information on Duffy Bracken himself. Well, not the man, but rather his weapons. Much to his dismay, the lively bards were poor scholars. They recorded the deeds of Duffy Bracken in song rather than in book. Thus, separating fact from legend was becoming increasingly difficult.

Then he heard it. A soft lullaby amongst embattled cries:

"Duffy Bracken, our hero did come.
The bard savior of our kingdom.
When hardship and pain Oblivion had wrought.
With Tooth and Nail, Duffy fought."

Suddenly intrigued, Ceidon sought the source of the tune. It was a young man, no older than 20, singing from a barrel. "Interesting tale," the adventurer said. The bard looked up with delight in his eyes.

"Do you like it?" He asked. "It's called the Ballad of Bracken. Though it's still a work in progress."

"It's great," Ceidon replied.

"That's very reassuring!" The young bard ate up Ceidon's praise. "You know, I'm having a concert next week at the square. I hope to have the song done by then. I was going to charge a GP for admission, but since you've been so kind to me I'd like you to come gratis."

Ceidon smiled. "Thank you very much."

"Oh here," the young bard replied. "Just show this flyer at the gate. I'll sign it to let them know you're a VIP." The bard pulled a self-inking pen from his pocket and signed a flier. He handed to Ceidon, who looked it over.

At the head of the flyer were the words "The Ballad of Bracken" and below it in even larger text was "A Play By Allsun F'jordson." Ceidon laughed at the name. It was very atypical of a bard. However, something else on the flyer caught his eyes. Behind the superimposed lettering was a large picture of the bust of Duffy Bracken. Near the bottom of the page, and somewhat obscured were two daggers hanging from belt. In very clear lettering on the left dagger was the last line of the sonnet 'I Want to Be Your Canary'.

"Thank you very much kid," Ceidon replied, though the bard wasn't much younger than he was. With his nose buried in the flier, Ceidon walked off. "I can't believe it," Ceidon spoke lightly to himself, "Duffy Bracken actually found and possessed the Daggers of Stramalim" The adventurer needed to find those daggers, but with Duffy 'ascended' he had no idea where to begin...

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Duffy Bracken.

The words were, at first, sung with such voraciousness that they rattled the cold stone alleyways of the famous city of Radasanth with their infinite glory. Then, tones became sharper. The syllables that comprised the name were spoken with grace before descending suddenly into a cacophony of jagged, phlegmy accusations. Blasphemy! Heresy! Debates raged and soon a town square was enveloped in uproar; a heated argument about the exact conotations of Bracken's identity.

All of this was completely lost on a certain Shinsou Vaan Osiris as he ambled, awestruck, through a tussling crowd. Bards played their lutes and gestured their index fingers at passing priests. Men argued with their women, who rolled their eyes and counterargued. Children stood around completely confused by the chaos swallowing their parents, shrugging as they continued their game of kickball.

Through all of the madness, one striking question wobbled through the Telgradian's mind.

Who the fuck is Duffy Bracken?

[Ceidon]

"You there!" A man called out to Shinsou. "Yes, you, the confused looking one." He pointed at the Telgradian.

The man continued with what seemed to be a very rehearsed sales pitch. "Have you come to Radasanth to learn about the great Duffy Bracken, the first man to be recognized as a Thayne? If so, then look no further. Worshipers at the temple will only tell you about his deeds in the Oblivion Crisis. The bards will only sing of his glories. But not I. I tell the truth about the man, the myth, the legend: Duffy Bracken"

The man stepped down off his porch and presented his establishment. "Behold the Duffy Bracken museum. Learn about his younger life; how he went from a gifted child, to grand player of Tantalus to his death and ascension as a Thayne of Althanian lore. I have stories, writings and artifacts you can't find anywhere else, including weapons Duffy used in his battle against evil." The man smiled.

"Only 5 GP."

Walking half hazardously through square, the Ceidon hadn't looked up since he was given the artifact. However, his ears perked when he heard the man claim to own weapons owned by Duffy. "Wait, what did you say?" the adventurer asked looking up towards the man. Completely distracted, he did not see Shinsou in his path. Instead, he continued to walk forward while balking at the makeshift museum.

"The Duffy Bracken museum, only 5..." the man stopped when he saw Ceidon was going to crash into Shinsou. "Uh, watch out" he cried, but it was too late.

[Leopold]

The crowd was insufferable. It was far from the bustle of Market Square, and further still from the day of a performance of even a fledgling troupe. Leopold looked at the street urchins, criers, and hangers on with the same disdain he gave an overcooked lamb shank.

“He would be fucking livid,” he said flatly.

Rumour of the museum spread quickly through the city, leaving Scara Brae once again in the fever of its sometimes-heroic bard. It had been three years, by the merchant’s reckoning, since he had passed away. Nobody had said so much as a word about him, though he guessed nobody really knew the truth of the matter.

“There’s not really much he can do about it now, though.” Jeren glanced sideways, finding the Rodden Pie stall a few feet to their right more of interesting titbit than his employer’s constant desire to set the world to rights.

“No.” Leopold frowned. “You’re quite right.”

Leopold, however, could. He damned well would.

“Stay here. Watch the crowds for signs of trouble, I won’t be long.”

Wading through the unkempt, uncouth, and probably pissed masses, Leopold approached the man at the fore of the ramshackle ‘epitaph’. His heavyset overcoat, greasy hair, and sunken look made him appear more menacing than even his foulest of moods could.

“I’ll get the guns,” Jeren mumbled to himself, turning to the east, and the direction of their wagon.

“What is the meaning of this?” he bellowed, just in time to see an unfortunate fellow plough into the crier.

[Rayleigh]

Radasanth never ceased to amaze her. The small woman was bustled about as she moved through the crowd, bounced off anyone taller, or more forceful, than herself. But she hardly noticed. Her wide eyes danced as she drank in the sights, a clownish grin plastered across her face. Ray had spent the morning browsing the open-air market, located a few blocks away. She had intended to buy Vincent some supplies for his kitchen, hoping to appease his sudden obsession with cooking. Unfortunately, she had quickly realized that she knew absolutely nothing about the culinary arts. Without the ability to tell a radish from a rhubarb, the girl had thrown in the towel early. She a few more hours to play before she was transported back to the House of Cards, and the signs beckoning her toward the Theater District were difficult to pass up.

So she moved with the crowd, allowing it to sweep her along like a strong current. The chaos roared around her, but if she focused, she could isolate individual sounds. A lone musician plucking at a lute. A trio performing a play for a small crowd on a street corner. A burst of laughter, reaching a climax as a comedian reached a punchline. The sounds sent shivers of excitement through her, and she decided that being a lousy cook had its advantages.

One voice rose above the din, and she was immediately drawn to it. A museum! Granted, she knew nothing of the man associated with it, but museums meant new knowledge, and that was what Rayleigh Aston craved more than anything else. She slipped between two large men to free herself from the horde, and trotted toward the source of the advertisement.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

There was a startled cry and a grunt as Shinsou's slight frame buckled under the weight of a particularly muscular, denim clad battering ram.

"Oh shit." Shinsou's coat was soaked with muddy rainwater. Ceidon raised his hands apologetically. "Don't worry, you're good. Obviously you were too hypnotised by all this Duffy Bracken propaganda to notice me. Who the hell is this guy, anyway?

The man with the very rehearsed sales pitch broke character for a moment, despair etched upon his face. "Are you serious? You have NEVER heard about the great Duffy Bracken? The very man who was the first to be-"

"Yeah, yeah." Shinsou interrupted. "Recognized as a Thayne, I know. I heard you the first time. Let me fill you in on something, not that it is any of your business at all. I'm not exactly local. The oblivion crisis is just something that happened to other people apparantly. I know nothing about the guy. But," the Telgradian postured, Ceidon's eyes washing over him, "I have some time to kill and knowledge is power. Here's your five GP. If you can get me to stay awake for the next hour, i'll double it."

As the man stepped down off his porch, he wrapped his gnarled fingers around the gold and smiled in the way Shinsou imagined an expensive rug salesman would.

"Excellent choice! The Duffy Bracken museum is the one-stop shop for everything you need to know about the man. Learn about his younger life; how he went from a gifted child-"

For fuck's sake...

"-to grand player of Tantalus to his death and ascension as a Thayne of Althanian lore." The man smiled. Repetition, repetition, repetition. It was how he made his living.

Walking half heartedly behind the man through the museum doors, Shinsou noticed Ceidon drifting behind him.

Well, common courtesy I suppose.

"The name's Shinsou. Shinsou Vaan Osiris. Do you have a fucking clue who this Duffy Bracken guy is?"

[Ceidon]

Ceidon tried to follow behind Shinsou, but before he could pass into the museum he felt a large hand against his chest.

"You too," the pitchman said, motioning Ceidon for payment.

"Oh right." The adventurer said coyly. He pulled out a 10 GP piece from his pocket and handed it to the man. "For him too," Ceidon continued, motioning to Leopold. While he had no idea why the man in the funny glasses was so upset, Ceidon suspected he'd probably ran into him as well.

Satisfied, the pitchman moved his hand and allowed Ceidon to enter.

"I'm Ceidon Lore, leader of the Order of...uh...the Librarians in Gisela," he replied, almost giving away his true identify of the leader of the Order of the Golden Dawn, the secretive group dedicated to the protection of Althanas' magical secrets. He continued, "And I know quite a bit about Mr. Bracken, or at least I thought I did. This doesn't look right..."

Ceidon was referring to the so called museum. From the inside it was more like a gift shop. There were a few posters on the wall featuring Duffy Bracken, and a bard was playing a familiar ballad on a lute. However, the majority of the building was covered in Bracken related merchandise. From wooden busts to toy weapons, this particular curator...or rather shopkeeper, had spared no expense.

Not usually one for confrontation, the 'museum' left Ceidon feeling unwell. He knew enough about Duffy and his sacrifice that this all seemed disrespectful. "So, let me get this straight," he said to the 'curator' behind the counter. "You've marketed a man."

"Ooho, my boy. Not a man. A god."

[Rayleigh]

"Hi, little lady!"

Rayleigh had more than enough reason to drive her elbow into the beaming curator's gut. She did not take kindly to anyone reminding her of her size, and, in truth, lady was not a term she took much liking too. Lady sounded like someone who could not fix an engine. Someone who preferred glimmer to grease. Someone who could not drink the Emperor of the Tarot Hierarchy under the table.

But her good mood had too firm a hold, and she would not be quick to forget it. Instead of lashing out, the brunette merely grinned back up at the jolly man. "Hi," she answered cheerfully.

"I imagine you're here for the Duffy Bracken museum?"

Who the hell? "Yeah, of course!"

"Wonderful. The Duffy Bracken museum is the one-stop shop for everything you need to know about the man. Learn about his younger life; how he went from a gifted child-"

Rayleigh shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling the smile flicker on her lips; she forced it wider.

"-to grand player of Tantalus to his death and ascension as a Thayne of Althanian lore."

At this, the smile, which had grown a tad forced, softened into a thoughtful expression. "Althanian lore?" she echoed.

Something in her reaction concerned the curator, and he frowned at her. Was she losing interest? He had to get bodies in the museum - that was his job. And he had this little one on the line. It would be a shame if she got away. "Listen." Now, he spoke in hushed tones. His voice would have been lost to the chaos had she not leaned closer. "I'll let you in for two GP."

"Sold!" she announced, the childish joy returning. She would have paid the full price, though she would not bother telling him that; her father had taught her to appreciate a good bargain. Rayleigh fished the coins from the thin pocket of her breeches, and pressed them into the curator's large hand. When he motioned her inside, she scooted in behind a small party who had arrived only shortly earlier.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Duffy Bracken. Ceidon Lore. Librarians of Gisela.

What is wrong with this country? the Telgradian thought as he marched further into the glorified gift shop.

"So, apart from this man being a god amongst men, what can you actually tell me about him?" Shinsou asked sarcastically. He poked at a Duffy Bracken playset containing a set of plastic daggers, an oddly shaped hat and a wig. Behind him, a few new people had been ushered into the "museum"; one of whom was a tomboyish looking lady who seemed to have as much idea about the man as he did. He exchanged a quick courteous nod and reached into his pocket, pulling out a choice cigar before lighting it.

"Ceidon, right? Your name sounds familiar..." Shinsou took a puff of the cigar, turning to the librarian of Gisela, or whatever he said he was. "You aren't a wizard are you?"

Lore looked at him blankly. Shinsou shrugged; one of the Duffy Bracken posters peeling away from the wall behind him as the door shut.

"Perhaps you can do a bit better than our esteemed curator? What do you know about this guy?"

[Leopold]

Only one thing could keep Leopold Winchester quiet when he was off on one. Money. Plain and simple. When the man in the hat offered to pay for his entry, he had relinquished his desire to punch the proprietor in the face – fallen silent, and followed the group into the ‘museum’s ante chamber.

“Oh, this should be good,” he said softly.

The posters and props were as expected. Crap. Derivative and resplendently narrow minded. Of course, he had the misfortune and fortune of living with Duffy Bracken for the better part of half a millennia. (Mostly misfortune, not he came to think about it).

“Did you get dragged in by your ear too?” he whispered next to the perky woman – a solitary sane looking person in a ragtag ensemble of the curious, desperate, and odiously interested in a man in a bad wig’s false news.