BRACKET BUSTERS X
Golden Age

You are welcome here, wayward Traveler, though you're a damned fool for coming. Grab a stool and mug of mead, warm yourself before your long journey. Yes, I know the meaning of your visit; I've known many of your kind. But do not mishear me: you are no less gallant than those before, but you're no less foolish either. For ten hard years I've waited. For ten years, I've watched eager players brave this devil's game, this fool's errand. Am I a witness to history or an old man chasing fables? Both hopeless endeavors, it seems. Even so, some of these fables may be known to you:

You may recall Sir Drew of House Timme, First Herald of the Gonzagian Brotherhood. His dealings in these parts marred him a hobbled man, doomed to a life of servitude in the League of Gee.

Or Sister Jean of the Religious Order of Loyola - the Rambling Nun, so called. Always unsatisfied, but the winds whisper she's found her peace at last.

Or perhaps the tragic tale of the Cavaliers of Virginia, felled by a pack of meek Golden Retrievers, only to be avenged by their Virginian kinfolk one year hence!

All good fairy tales, yes, but it is not glory you seek, nor peace or justice. No, you seek something far more mysterious. Yes, I know the tale. Behind three-score-and-seven doors, hides magic so rare, so ancient. Each path must be chosen with utmost care. What lies beyond, only the gods really know. We mortals call it the Perfect Bracket. For this quest, I am of no help. But you may take my stories as arrows in your quiver, for your challenge is no small feat. There is guardian of the Perfect Bracket, a beast as mysterious as the treasure it guards: the Bracket Buster lurks ahead. Be wary, Traveler!

Now, farewell and godspeed. Do not fret - your name will live regardless of your triumph - I will make it so. And one more thing before you depart: that mug of mead will not pay for itself! Twenty drams of copper you owe, but you can just eTransfer it.