Raymond_of_Clubs
the Yee to your Haw
Howdy, pardner! Welcome to my search thread!
It’s been – what, a year? – since I last put up something fresh and original. Today I bring you a somewhat detailed medieval fantasy plot featuring themes of platonic brotherly love, community, found family, and monster-riddled survival. But first, you need to know some things about me, and I need to ask some things of you.
Anyway, here’s the plot section! I'll divide it into two segments - a longer and more post-like introduction and a matter-of-factly summary of what's going on, in case my poetic waxing isn't clear enough about what I'm actually looking for, as it often is with these kinds of searches. I suggest that you read both segments though, they each contain unique information, even if I tend to get a little repetitive with it.
If you read through all of that - wow, thanks! Now here's the main idea in fewer words and with more practical comments from yours truly.
So that's about it, I think! If my little story doth butter your parsnips, shoot me a message and tell me a bit about yourself!
It’s been – what, a year? – since I last put up something fresh and original. Today I bring you a somewhat detailed medieval fantasy plot featuring themes of platonic brotherly love, community, found family, and monster-riddled survival. But first, you need to know some things about me, and I need to ask some things of you.
- My name is Ray, and my pronouns are he/they – the rhyme is not intentional but I haven’t yet figured out a different way of introducing myself.
- I am twenty-two years old, and I ask that my partners are in the same age group or older. Nothing to do with writing quality – I’ve met fifteen-year-olds who can write more than decently and forty-year-olds who can’t construct a proper sentence for the life of them – but I don’t think we’ll have a lot of things in common if you’re still in high school, and that might be a hindrance on our eventual friendship.
- Speaking of, I’m here for friends as much as RP partners. I work full-time, and my schedule varies weekly depending on the shift I’m on, but as a general rule, I probably won’t be able to write posts more than once a week. To make those wait times easier for me and for you, I would love to chat OOC, exchange memes, discuss characters, share art and music, and have an otherwise pleasant human interaction.
- I write a lot. Big fan of long posts, if I’m being honest, at least in the way of an introduction. We can certainly switch to shorter posts later on, which I’ve done with many RP partners I’ve come to respect and trust, but if I ask you to start us off with a post and you give me five lines of text to work with, I’m not sure we’ll be a good fit.
- I consider myself literate, but I leave that to your subjective judgment.
- I write in third person, past tense. I’ve experimented with different writing styles in the past, but I don’t want to experiment now, so this here is a hard requirement.
- I’m looking for an involved partner who I can plot and worldbuild with, bouncing ideas off of each other. If you’re not really interested in the story or are planning to let me handle all the plot elements while your character is left to react to them passively, we won’t be a good match.
- I have nothing against romance, but I don’t want to write it right now, not in this particular story. You can certainly approach me with your own ideas, but bear in mind I’m a busy man who’s not really up for having fifty different RPs going on at the same time.
- I love writing side characters almost as much as I love my main characters, so there will be quite a crowd. I ask that you do the same because whenever I tried to pull off a multitude of characters in response to my partner’s one guy, it was more exhausting than pleasant.
Anyway, here’s the plot section! I'll divide it into two segments - a longer and more post-like introduction and a matter-of-factly summary of what's going on, in case my poetic waxing isn't clear enough about what I'm actually looking for, as it often is with these kinds of searches. I suggest that you read both segments though, they each contain unique information, even if I tend to get a little repetitive with it.
“Don’t tense your shoulders,” old Master Timmek said, twirling his mustache and fixing the sheath on his belt, covered generously in wyvern 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 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 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, his voice filled with sympathy. “You have a 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 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 have 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 hasn’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, washed 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 fight for it.
The man of the Kalepeck Keep came from the North, a fire in his eyes and a spellbook in his satchel. He lead a group of villagers whose homes were hit by the Winter 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.
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 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 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, his voice filled with sympathy. “You have a 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 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 have 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 hasn’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, washed 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 fight for it.
The man of the Kalepeck Keep came from the North, a fire in his eyes and a spellbook in his satchel. He lead a group of villagers whose homes were hit by the Winter 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.
If you read through all of that - wow, thanks! Now here's the main idea in fewer words and with more practical comments from yours truly.
The Kalepeck Keep is a castle built to protect people against harsh weather conditions and monster attacks that happen every winter.
Two kids arrive at the Kalepeck Keep at the age of eight. Neither of them knows where they come from, who or where their parents are, but they call each other “brother”, and one refuses to eat and rest if the other is not present. The Keep’s masters teach them the way of the sword, and while one of the brothers takes to it with natural talent, the other struggles all the way through until he discovers he’s gifted with sorcery instead. Soon after, a group of mages arrives to take one of the boys under their wing. The other boy, frustrated and angry with what he’s told was his brother’s betrayal of their friendship, leaves to join the royal guard.
Years later, both now accomplished adults, the brothers meet at the Kalepeck Keep. The place is in ruins, with creatures and monsters waiting at every corner, but nobody knows how long the Winter is going to last this year, and there are people in urgent need of shelter.
Now the brothers have to restore the Keep to its former glory and beyond.
The story will involve them dealing with various dangers and hardships of maintaining peace and safety, clearing out monster nests, and looking for ways to provide food and warmth to the people in their care, all while restoring their own friendship, broken by the lies of their now dead masters. We really won't have to go too far to find things for them to do - a child got lost in the nearby woods, a pestilence spread among the people for a mysterious reason, someone is stealing food for themselves while the resources are limited and everybody else is going hungry - you name it. There is also plenty of potential for side characters to involve in those stories so that we never get bored with just the two mains.
If I haven't yet made it clear, I would prefer to play the sorcerer character. I already have an idea for him and will gladly tell you more, though I would still like for us to bounce ideas off of one another when creating characters. I love contrasting personalities and interesting conflicts, even if the central theme of the story is friendship and found family.
Two kids arrive at the Kalepeck Keep at the age of eight. Neither of them knows where they come from, who or where their parents are, but they call each other “brother”, and one refuses to eat and rest if the other is not present. The Keep’s masters teach them the way of the sword, and while one of the brothers takes to it with natural talent, the other struggles all the way through until he discovers he’s gifted with sorcery instead. Soon after, a group of mages arrives to take one of the boys under their wing. The other boy, frustrated and angry with what he’s told was his brother’s betrayal of their friendship, leaves to join the royal guard.
Years later, both now accomplished adults, the brothers meet at the Kalepeck Keep. The place is in ruins, with creatures and monsters waiting at every corner, but nobody knows how long the Winter is going to last this year, and there are people in urgent need of shelter.
Now the brothers have to restore the Keep to its former glory and beyond.
The story will involve them dealing with various dangers and hardships of maintaining peace and safety, clearing out monster nests, and looking for ways to provide food and warmth to the people in their care, all while restoring their own friendship, broken by the lies of their now dead masters. We really won't have to go too far to find things for them to do - a child got lost in the nearby woods, a pestilence spread among the people for a mysterious reason, someone is stealing food for themselves while the resources are limited and everybody else is going hungry - you name it. There is also plenty of potential for side characters to involve in those stories so that we never get bored with just the two mains.
If I haven't yet made it clear, I would prefer to play the sorcerer character. I already have an idea for him and will gladly tell you more, though I would still like for us to bounce ideas off of one another when creating characters. I love contrasting personalities and interesting conflicts, even if the central theme of the story is friendship and found family.
So that's about it, I think! If my little story doth butter your parsnips, shoot me a message and tell me a bit about yourself!
