Telling a mage not to practice their art is like telling a bird not to fly.

With the freedom of infinitely vast land at their feet, Muse A feels caged, suffocating, pinned to a piece of cardboard like a rare butterfly. Holding back the sparks that run between their fingers, they seek hope and reassurance in the tales of old. The legends speak of renowned sorcerers taming dragons, summoning storms, fighting for the freedom to use their gift for good when the crown feared it turning to evil. There were glorious battles, tavern bards sang reluctantly for the price of a silver coin. Muse A pays.

Muse A listens.

They’re young. Their gift is untamed. In a world where a single spell can turn a thousand swords against you, nobody dares to teach them.

They keep searching.

Muse B isn’t old, but they feel like they’ve been walking this land for too long. The days when they called themself archmage are gone, and with the strain the hunt against sorcery is putting on them, they’re beginning to wonder if not following most former rebels’ fate of public execution was at all a good thing. The fastest road to happiness these days is the back alley vendors shipping moon sugar from the eastern coast.

“I can’t believe I found you,” Muse A says, star-struck, and the glorious image they’ve conjured in their mind crumbles at Muse B’s pitiful appearance. Their disappointment is strong, but their hope is stronger. “Teach me,” they plead.

“No,” Muse B replies.

***

Summary: Two decades ago, following a series of rebellions, the crown completely outlawed magic within the kingdom. Muse A is a young – possibly teenage – magically gifted traveler looking for the legendary sorcerers of the old days, hoping to convince them to stir trouble again, as well as to take them as an apprentice. Muse B is an ex-revolutionary, one of the four most renowned mages who’ve ever lived, but they’ve lost all hope to fight against the crown, and now spend their days in misery, battling with poverty and addiction. It’s up to Muse A to convince them there’s still some good in this weary world.

Notes:
• I’d prefer to play Muse B for this plot.
• The set-up is a medieval fantasy world, but we could very well integrate it into a modern setting as well, to create something more unique.
• I imagine the dynamic as something of a found family, with Muse B becoming a parental figure for Muse A.
• It’s also a coming-of-age story for Muse A, whose blind optimism is bound to crash against the harsh reality of the world. But it’s not all entirely hopeless either, and Muse B will eventually grow to restore that hope within themselves.
• I’m hoping for a lot of action with this story, as well as a lot of bonding, and possibly some dark topics if my partner is comfortable with them.

Every mage in the world, from a young pink-cheeked scholar to a seasoned master of their craft, has heard of the Ruins of Arcadia. Among the ancient walls, under the dust and rubble of the centuries past, there lay secrets beyond imagination. The Arcadians’ art of sorcery surpassed every known branch of teaching, every technique, every library of spells and incantations. From the northern castles to the southern deserts, everyone dreamed of finding the long-lost city of knowledge.

Yet they could only dream.

Thick forests grew around the ruins. Tall mountains encased it. Deadly swamps infested with hungry creatures cut every road. Those who set out to find the Arcadian treasure returned wounded and frightened, or didn’t return at all. Entire adventurers’ guilds came to desolation, kings lost armies, and inevitably, if slowly, the ruins turned into a legend to scare ambitious teens with, and nothing else.

It didn’t sit well with Muse A.

They studied magical arts for as long as they could remember and made themselves quite a name. Hundreds of research expeditions, a staggering rate of success, dozens of books to their name, long lines of lords and dukes waiting to acquire their service, all of that – for one crowning mission. They’ve collected every adventure log they could find, they’ve prepared their finest amulets and most effective elixirs, they’ve loaded their horse with everything they might need in their travels, and finally, after years of preparation, they were ready to depart in search of Arcadia. All they were missing was a companion.

But who could they turn to? There was nobody they’d trust with a spellbook as well as they’d trust themselves, and no royal advisor or faithful servant would be of any use in their travels. Instead, they chose a sword for hire – and not just any sword! Muse B’s fame as a mercenary reached far and wide, and if their manners weren’t fit for the royal halls and their education in the matter of their expedition was less than superficial… Well, Muse A could look past that.

Muse B has never heard of Arcadia, and if they were ever going to learn how to read, it wouldn’t be to learn about some old ruins. They love drinking, meat, and slaying monsters that bother people, and if their guild is sending them on a contract to escort some researcher into the middle of nowhere – well, that’s fine by them, and they’re not interested in any more details.

Getting along will be a tough load of work.

***

Summary: Muse A is a well-educated court mage on a quest to find the ruins of a lost city. Muse B is a barbarian swordsman who’s been hired to accompany them.

Notes:
• I would prefer the role of Muse B since I already have an idea for a character.
• This idea plays off of contrast. Two people from vastly different social backgrounds, masters of two different crafts, embark on a journey with a common goal. This is sure to prompt a lot of comedy, as well as some potential drama, and, in the end, an interesting character dynamic.
• This is probably the most basic medieval fantasy idea I’ve ever had, and I am very excited about it, don’t judge me.

Muse A thought orcs weren’t real.

Tooth fairies weren’t, and neither were the forest goblins that stole young boys if they wandered too far from the village! Elves were real – he’d seen elves. They had pointy ears, and their language curved softly, like a pigeon’s song. Seen dwarves too. They had a dwarf at the village – a small, stout man with a huge beard. A very generous one – let the kid have an apple from his fruit shop when he was hungry. Apples were no substitute for meat though. Didn’t fill his stomach any.

Ma used to tell him about orcs. About how huge and strong they were, how fierce, how scary. He wasn’t scared! He was going to become a soldier one day! The local guards wouldn’t take him into training until he turned twelve, but that’s alright, he could manage until then. Never mind that he never learned how to hold a sword – ma said dad would show him when he came back from war.

He wondered if there were any orcs at war. Huge, strong creatures, in his mind, were exactly what a war needed. He’d probably have to go to war someday too, even if ma wouldn’t like it. Maybe if she wasn’t so nice to him all the time, he wouldn’t have to rely on the fruits from the old dwarf so much.

The words “huge” and “strong” were stuck in his head as he took in the sight of Muse B. Between “fierce” and “scary” ma forgot to mention orcs were also green, but maybe that was from a sickness. One would have to be sick, with not one but three arrows sticking out of them. There were holes in the orc’s side, too – the kind a pitchfork would make. Ma said people didn’t like orcs.

Muse A liked that one.

Moving slowly, heavily, leaving red traces on the trail, the orc stopped a few steps away from the kid and said something. He couldn’t understand a single word.

***

Summary: Muse A is a kid whose mom died and whose dad went to war. The kid lives in a village, barely managing to not go hungry. One day, wandering a bit too far onto an old lonely trail, they meet Muse B – a battle-worn wounded orc who seems to have been chased away from every human settlement and doesn’t speak a word of Common.

Notes:
• I’d prefer to play Muse B, the orc.
• This plot is extremely fun to me specifically because of the language barrier between the characters. Two completely different people who can’t understand one another at all. Would they communicate in gestures? Would they learn from each other? I want this to be a journey, and I want us to write this journey together.
• This is a found family plot. Whether Muse A’s father is alive or not is up to us, and so is Muse B’s reason for straying so far away from their own people, but the fact that both characters are extremely lonely is as clear as day. It would be interesting to watch them find unexpected warmth and companionship in one another.

“Don’t tense your shoulders,” old Master Timmek said, twirling his moustache and fixing the sheath on his belt, covered generously in vyvern scales. “Your form is wrong.”

The boy of the Kalepeck Keep nodded, tightening his grip on the wooden sword. He was nine, his opponent – two years older. The training yard was cold, the smell of Winter already discernible in the morning air. It would come soon, and they would move to the halls of the Keep, where it didn’t rain and the ground wasn’t slippery under his sandals. The creatures would come soon after, and the boy would have to be ready to defend his home.

Master Timmek shook his head and turned his attention to another child of the same age, but taller and broader, and steadier on his feet. “Show your brother how it’s done.”

***

“Retrieve your arrow,” Master Sivas said, his eyes cold and uncaring.

The boy of the Kalepeck Keep nodded, raising his eyes to find the edge of the wall. His brother’s arrow, decorated with the feathers of a griffin cub, stuck out of the middle of the training mannequin. His own arrow, sharpened with a knife of his own making, overshot terribly and landed beyond the wall-clad safety of the Keep. The boy was ten, and his knees trembled with fear. Only the grown-up warriors were permitted to leave. When the storms passed and the snow melted, they set out to each walk their own path – joining the royal guard, turning to mercenary work, or helping people out of the goodness of their hearts. Every year fewer and fewer of them ever came back.

“I’ll get it!” his brother said, running up to the wall and climbing it dexterously in just a few seconds, disappearing behind it briefly, only to emerge with the arrow in hand.

Master Sivas said nothing, but the boy of the Kalepeck Keep still shuddered under his piercing gaze.

***

“Master Quinar is going to be angry with you again,” the boy’s brother whispered to him, voice filled with simpathy. “You have good memory. Why can’t you remember the symbols?”

“I remember,” the boy returned even quieter, knees tucked under his chin, “but they spin and float all over the page. It’s hard to catch them.”

The boy’s brother buried himself into the Book of History they stole from the Keep’s library to practice in secret at night. “I don’t think they move,” he admitted after a minute of careful observation, “they were here yesterday.”
The boy said nothing, only scrunched up his nose and frowned at the book. He was eleven, and all the other children his age have already learned how to read.

***

“Fall back!” Master Timmek shouted, unsheathing his sword. The boy of the Kalepeck Keep has never seen it before. The edge was blindingly sharp.

His brother grabbed him by the wrist and ran to the Great Halls, where the walls of the Keep stood the strongest, and the corridors were the hardest to navigate for the wild chimera that made its way past their defenses. Winters were getting longer. Creatures were growing in strength. The brothers hid in a closet inside a storage room, and haven’t made any sound even as the floor trembled beneath their feet.

When the commotion outside has finally calmed down, they found the door frozen shut.

For the next hour, they screamed as loudly as they could, but nobody came to free them. They tried breaking out or melting the ice with the heat of their hands, but the doors wouldn’t budge, and the icy crust only grew thicker, soon making its way inside.

The next day, hungry and tired, they began to feel the effects of the cold themselves. It made their bones ache, and the more they struggled to get out, the weaker their bodies became.

The day after that, the boy’s brother couldn’t stay awake any longer. The cold turned his skin white and his lips blue. When the evening fell and the heart next to the boy’s own skipped a few beats, the flame of magic danced between his fingers for the first time.

***

“When can I train with my brother again?” the boy of the Kalepeck Keep asked, the palms of his hands burned red from practicing his spellwork.

“Later,” Master Quinar replied, his mouth barely moving under the weight of his rich white beard. He was the oldest of the masters, and the only one with some knowledge of magical arts. He was also the cruelest, one of the very few who still preferred a whip and a wooden stick to a stern word, let alone generous advice. There was no one else to teach the boy sorcery, and years at the Keep had proven him useless at everything else.

“Can I sleep in the common room tonight?” the boy asked stubbornly, as he’d already learned the spell Master Quinar tasked him with learning today, with some hours left. The Masters had him sleep in a separate room now, one near the ancient alchemy tower that hadn’t been used for a good century. He didn’t know why.

Master Quinar shook his head.

The boy frowned. “Is my brother gonna leave when he turns fifteen?”

Master Quinar nodded. That’s how it was with every grown-up warrior, leaving to walk their path until the next Winter drove them back.

“What about me?” the boy asked, voice betraying a hint of worry.

Master Quinar said nothing.

***

A group of men in long dark-blue robes came to talk to the Masters. The night after that, the boy of the Kalepeck Keep was woken abruptly, bathed with a strange mixture that turned his hair black, dressed in a new set of clothes of the same color, and taken by carriage to a city he didn’t know, under the wing of people he didn’t care for.

Master Quinar told his brother that the boy left on his own.

***

Winters passed, and fewer and fewer warriors came back to defend the Kalepeck Keep. Master Quinar was the first to lose his battle against age and time, and others soon followed. A colony of toxic spores made its home in the Keep’s kitchen, a flock of harpies crafted a nest atop the alchemy tower, a hydra inhabited the well. Year by year, the beasts crept past the Keep’s walls until not a single warrior was left to defend it.

The man – no longer a boy – of the Kalepeck Keep came from the North, a fire in his eyes and a spellbook in his satchel. He led a group of villagers whose homes were hit by the storm, unexpectedly early and strong that year, and the only place he knew to lead them to was the ruin of his old home.

There, coming from the South, another man met him, a man leading a lost caravan of faraway travelers, carrying a sword on his belt, a bow on his shoulder, and a quiver decorated with the feathers of a greater griffin.

***

Summary: Two boys grow up and train together as brothers at a fortress by the name of the Kalepeck Keep. One of the boys displays a talent for the magical arts and is taken by a magi order to learn under their wing, while the boy’s brother is led to believe that he abandoned his family willingly. Years later, as the winter strikes early and the beasts emerge to terrorize the world, the brothers meet at the abandoned Keep and decide to re-inhabit it, drive away the monsters, rekindle the fires, and turn it into a safe haven for the people they’re protecting.

Notes:
• Yet another family story, this one with an actual family – the main characters already call each other brothers, though they’re most likely not actually related.
• I’d like to play the mage character.
• There’s a lot of drama potential here, with the brothers trying to work through the childhood bitterness and the web of lies surrounding their separation, to rebuild their relationship along with the walls of their home.
• There’s also plenty of room for exciting action scenes, creative monsters, somewhat sweet hurt-comfort, and maybe even humor. The characters aren’t traveling anywhere and don’t have any grand goals, they’re just trying to survive the winter – it’s all very…. Home-y.
• Side characters are always a nice addition, especially with this plot. The mage has a whole village of people under his protection, while his brother is defending a lost caravan – there are sure to be some very interesting people among both of these groups.

It is strictly forbidden for an angel to get attached to a human.

The job is simple: overseeing humanity, making sure the Big Guy’s plan is executed to the last bit, that no demonic forces dare to interfere, and that every soul crosses over safely and without delay. There’s a lot to do, and, naturally, one gets to know a lot of people. That’s why sympathies are dangerous. They cloud your judgment, bend your principles, drive you to sin. And they never end well, not in a million years – people lie, betray, disappoint, and die, and never know the feathered fool that put their faith in them.

Why is it, then, that Muse A can’t take their eyes off Muse B?

It’s a cruel thing – fascination. The way Muse B holds to their moral compass, seeks truth in everything, and strives to do the right thing. The way they’re rude, straightforward, and mostly disliked, yet the closer you look, the more kindness they bring to the world. The way they smile – or smirk, rather, the way the corner of their mouth quirks up as they call a swine a swine, something even some angels wouldn’t dare to do. Muse A watches over, reaches out, and wonders: why is it that Muse B must die?

It’s a silly death. Hit by a truck. Accidentally or deliberately – above Muse A’s all-knowing, and they honestly don’t even care. When Muse B’s wrecked body ends up on a surgeon’s table, and their soul heads towards the Other Side, Muse A pulls every resource, trick and bit of strength to get them back.

It’s forbidden to interfere with the Big Guy’s plan, and there’s a reason for it. Muse A is prepared to be on the run for the rest of eternity if only Muse B lives on the way they deserve to. But the thing is, you can’t cross over, get back and think nothing of it. Not when there’s a shiny feathered fellow with a worried face, standing right beside your hospital bed, and nobody else can see it.

***

Summary: Muse A is an angel who’s become fascinated with Muse B, a human. Muse B is destined to die in an accident, and Muse A works to prevent it. Going against God’s plan, however, is bound to have terrible consequences.

Notes:
• I’d prefer to play Muse A, the angel.
• I’d like this to be a romantic story with action elements interspersed with slice-of-life scenes in a cozy, humorous manner. I don’t have a ton of twists planned for this one, but hopefully, I managed to get across the vibe I’m going for. Basically, angel gets the worst gay crush ever, asked to leave Heaven.

There aren’t enough bards in the entire kingdom to sing about all the adventures that Muse A and Muse B have been through together. There aren’t enough historians to document all their findings, from ancient temples and artifacts to creatures believed to be long extinct, and dangers hoped to have left this world for good. There isn’t enough fear in the whole world to keep them away from what they do, and they’re impossibly good at it.

Muse A is a warrior. They wield a greatsword with the strength of a giant, know the tactics of the most cunning mercenaries, and their speed and dexterity are those of a seasoned thief. Legend has it, they can shoot an arrow through a hummingbird’s heart from all the way across the Blue Clover village!

Muse B’s talents are on a different realm – that of magic and healing. They stitch up wounds with a touch of their hand and protect the land from sorcery-born spirits and beasts without the darkness ever coming close to corrupting their brave compassionate heart. Minstrels sing ballads of their magical gifts, recounting all but one – a deep secret that nobody but Muse A knows. Sometimes, when the moon is small and the night is black, the future flashes before Muse B’s eyes, and whatever they see always – always – comes true.

Besides being a perfect team, Muse A and Muse B have another reason to stick together through fire and ice: they’ve been wed to one another just a few years ago, and they’ve never been happier.

Until now.

Muse A is as ready to embark on a new journey as ever, and Muse B doesn’t have the heart to tell Muse A that their last vision of their future was that of a horrible death.

***

Summary: Muse A (a warrior) and Muse B (a mage/healer who can see the future) are happily married and adventuring together, until one day Muse B sees a vision of Muse A dying during one of their missions.

Notes:
• I don’t mind playing either role in this plot.
• I like the idea of two characters already being married at the beginning of the story. A lot of romance deals with slow-burn and starts at the characters’ first meeting, so it will definitely be refreshing to write a couple that’s already gone through that phase. That said, there’s still definitely room for drama, character development, and change.
• I’m not really looking for a grim doomed tragedy. Muse B’s vision is just a catalyst for drama, but, this being a magical setting where nearly anything can happen, I don’t actually expect Muse A to die.
• They can adopt a kid at some point. If they want.

“Have you or your loved one been harmed, discorporated, or driven to madness by an unauthorized reality warp? You may be entitled to financial compensation!”

“Say NO to demonic possession! Don’t let otherworldly deities gain control of your body unless they have a permit from the Occult Regulation Agency!”

“Are you tired? Dizzy? Itchy? Do you feel a burning sensation all over your skin? Is your feeble mind subject to fits of inexplainable rage and insatiable hunger? Contact your local Magically Afflicted Youth Center immediately! Vampirism is at an all-time high this holiday season!”

“Loose lips sink ships! Do not disclose any personal information in the presence of malevolent spirits, mind-altering anomalies, or listening devices that have not been state-approved!”

Warp Incident Security and Prevention Station, or WISPS, is an organization of specialty-trained professionals that work to investigate anomalous sightings, prevent occultism-related accidents, and clean up the consequences of unauthorized use of reality-warping equipment. Their job is highly dangerous and extremely versatile – fighting interdimensional invaders and exorcising demonic entities is as much a part of it as public education, social assistance, and first aid in the event of reality-threatening emergencies. This is the story of two such professionals, recently assigned to the same unit to work on a strange case involving the disappearance of a young man who, reportedly, never even existed.

A robot runs through the car graveyard. Its power indicator blinks red once, twice, and an internal pop-up announces grimly that all systems are at 1% capacity. The robot cannot process anything more complicated than the velocity of its own steps, but it can’t stop either, not unless it’s prepared to face disintegration on account of deviation from protocol. It hides among the rusted old vehicles, the discarded trash compactors, the broken household assistants, and it searches for a single spare energy cell, but it’s out. The indicator doesn’t even have the power to blink. It pushes on, and runs until it can’t.

Years pass, machines rust, people die, and the asteroid remains deserted. The robot, unaware of the passage of time, stands as a monument of itself. It stands until it falls, and lies on the ground until it collapses underneath its weighty metal body. It sleeps, and waits, and lives.

A small ship lands on the surface of the asteroid, and a curious human emerges like a busy beetle around an exotic flower. They search, scan, and take notes, and their voice excitedly announces their findings to no one in particular, as if every deserted heap of trash metal brings them closer to their goal, far beyond an outsider’s comprehension.
They walk just a little too far, trip and fall just a little too carelessly, emerge from the dust and sand a little too luckily – and there lies the robot. Sleeping. Waiting.

The human gasps, runs back to the ship, and brings out an energy cell.

“Can you really tell what they’re sayin’?” the man asks stiffly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The mermaids whisper among themselves and giggle.

“More or less, Captain,” the mage replies, and produces a string of whistles and clicks of the tongue that sends the mermaids into a prolonged fit of laughter.

He’s unfit for sea-faring, the Captain thinks, taking stock of the lanky, awkward, clumsy, pale man before him. The voyage ahead will undoubtedly prove dangerous, even deadly. He sighs. “D’you talk to fish, too?”

“No, Captain,” the mage smiles, “only Merfolk.”

The Captain frowns. “Sorry, mate-“ he begins, but the mage snaps his fingers, and water begins to rise from the surface, forming into a sphere in his palm. A small fish swims circles in it. The mage passes the sphere from one hand to another, then just as easily returns it to the ocean. “Well, I’ll be,” the Captain fails to hold back an impressed chuckle, “welcome aboard.”

• A water-bending mage joins a sea-faring Captain in search of a long-lost underwater city of legends. Setting can range from medieval to modern, though I’m always partial to classic fantasy. The Captain can be a regular traveler or an outlaw pirate – your pick. I’ve never actually done a marine-themed plot, but I really want to. I’d rather write the mage. As per my own personal Weird Rule of Writing, none of my characters can swim.