Gao
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ROGUE WAVES.
SEASON II.
Applications, optional roles, Discord OOC.
High seas, found family, low fantasy.
ESTABLISHED MAY 2024.
01
YOU BOARD THE LEVIATHAN.
PREMISE
SEASON I.
Back in the late August heat, sun-baked wood was bathed in a heady downpour. Bolstered by posts that were woolly with an emerald algae, pale minnows blinked quicksilver between the green as the goliathβs bony sternum idled in the warm shallows of the Capitalβs port. Once tart with a fresh coat of linseed oil, The Leviathan was created and christened with royal intent, a wooden thrall that boasted a prestigious crew lacquered in specialist skill and wealthy ticketed guests.
Some may have enjoyed it, back then in the summer. The clamour that detached from civilian trachea, saccharine sweet to hollow those bones with cavities. Some may have enjoyed it, to be the idols of fascination and envy in each Zenith port, and seemingly, the entire realm.
Through September she sailed past Zenith towns, all pleasant coves and sweet junctions, carving a gentle passage through electric blue. She nursed kinship and fickle conflict, served daily meal and nightly drink, and the grandeur has comfort settling like the familiar warmth of honeyed wine.
The shift in temperature was fast, and that is not in reference to the climate.
Early October was that tempest storm, where wood ruptured not unlike a quilt of bone and muscle. Mutilated the carcass of her ribs, mangled barrels of freshwater and plead the reminder that life is a finite concept. In the same way an anglerfish offers lustre in the dark, that yellow light of a township on a remote isle emitted that beacon of hope.
Warm and able bodies were piled into dinghies and sent across the night sea to find water for their voyage, only to return late when the sun held safe dominion. Thinned numbers and blanketed with quiet, comfort is scarce in the slathered under eyes and mouths that were ready to eat blame. Somewhere in the sucking mud is an unmarked grave that plumps and softens, picked away to pale bone and ruby broth.
All the snarled wounds ground deep with sand, nails thick with copper and flies that make a mess of the blood. The Leviathan was meant to be a vow of glory but all you have so far is gore in the palms of your hands. The crew does not speak of it, that petrichor of anarchy on the shores of Algol, everywhere and all at once, and the glow of hungry eyes that refracted through lemon sclera are branded like a violent dream.
How to distill what they have encountered in words without sounding entirely deranged, pare it down and open it up and one will find it only reveals the nature of themselves. Reduced human reason to that of a primal instinct, the gentlest nudge to quicken blood and stir unrest when caught out on the sandy edge of oblivion.
Perhaps the haunting quiet is for the best. With throats tight with thirst and the events of Algol a struggle to speak about, a silent concordance has settled those onboard; maybe some things are best unknown, and seeking logic in what happened would be a kind of undoingβ maybe one that would not be entirely physical.
Celebrations have been quiet as of late, a sobering that works into the grooves of the ship like salt crust where laughter once resided. Three weeks are spent scrounging what water they could trade from passing merchants, for there is not much else to be found in the desolate open blue.
The crew has depleted of souls, pairs of useful hands lost in the maws of the storm or those that did not wake in Algol. Across the gap of endless water is only a promise of red sails and tinderbox tempers, but The Leviathan has no other option.
They make for enemy territory to moor at the port of Antares.
SEASON II.
Accidents, infections, dehydration, even a course of bad luck is the final fate of many expeditions.
The crownβs jewel has sailed outside of the safe region of Zenith, bathed in the sun and nourished by civilian adulation, met the October storm and cracked hull, the haven inn and bloodshed of Algol, and now limps to the only location that can serve them salvation.
A place that strikes like a punch, all fire and rum and knuckles full of boysenberry bruises. Anger has a place here, basalt shadows the eyes of many, and the sight of a royal vessel cutting the breadth of a pirate-centric harbour is an apprehensive one.
The crew has depleted and as they make port for a night of repairs, resupply, and a roam of this lawless location, word has spread that the Captain is seeking new crew.
You look to The Leviathan, burn it into the sea like a funeral pyre or stay beneath the floorboards as it sinks; youβre not sure where your loyalty will take you. No matter to summit or seabed, youβll only notice the pull when youβre already adrift in the current.
[ ] You turn away.
[>] You join The Leviathan.
OPEN
CUSTOM ROLES
CUSTOM ROLES
CUSTOM ROLES.
STATUS
OPEN.
These pitches are not gender-locked, nor are you restricted to only applying as the following. You are free to interpret, adjust, or make an entirely new role to fit your needs. It is heavily advised to check the character limitations in the google document to familiarize with what I am/am not looking for in Rogue Waves due to our current excess, as well as the taken face-claims. Our cast is large so I will not expect newcomers to read every sheet before applying, but I do advise to skim or pitch your concept to me via ooc or dms and I can affirm whether it is something we do not currently have.
Just note if you create your own role, that you have a cute, tidy role name of one word. This role name does not have to be their occupation, can be metaphorical, in a different language, allude to their traits or motive in the roleplay. Please feel welcome to be creative with this.
OPEN
THE INSURGENCE
THE INSURGENCE
THE INSURGENCE.
Status
OPEN.
Youβve grappled with this personal revolution for an entire lifetime, wearing the body and clothes that do fit right. The only sin youβve committed is pleading ignorance to the fact you werenβt born as what you should be, and it is this same sin that has you quietly rebel against conformity and social expectations. The waters of your gender identity are an endless enigma, but day and realisation dawn in tandem that to redefine who you are, you must stop eluding the truth and instead elude those that would judge you. In the company of strangers and on the edge of a world, liberation may be found.
You seek not just a new destination to restart on the Leviathan, but a transformation into authenticity.
OPEN
THE ABEL
THE ABEL
THE ABEL.
Status
OPEN.
All that brilliance and appreciation from others, but still your eyes all halo for only THE CAIN. Everything you have done is to seek their recognition and pride in you. An oath to conquer everything together, how effortless to receive and bathe languid in the appreciation of others. THE CAIN stands beside you as you earn your accolades, and you warm to the mutual support that no matter your standing as their adolescent, you both see each other as equal.
Your sibling has felt distanced as of late, and you decided a trip aboard The Leviathan is what is needed to pull that aching chasm together.
But that unity of two souls you think you share is festering with a one-sided rot.
OPEN
THE AGNATE
THE AGNATE
THE AGNATE.
Status
OPEN.
There's an intimate distaste in being the cousin of the Captain, and The Leviathan voyage is your last promise to family that you would try. Try to find a purpose, try to surface above this pointed coldness that ensnares you like a weighted shade, try to sit comfortably in a warm home and pretend you are okay with being alive. Faux brightness is poor acting for the rotting in your mind; fatigue your countenance, nepotism your ticket, self-destruction your plan. Penchant for sadness, you look across the crew and wonder if your bonds with the living will make you decide differently.
ON HOLD
DISHONORED
DISHONORED
THE DISHONORED.
Status
ON HOLD.
The exorcism of time can burnish even the most valuable of items. From godhood to gutter, a small town hero who emerged as a pulse of hope when the community felt all was lost. Revered yet humble, but victim to the crumble of your pedestal all the same. Rendered down to the ghost of what you were, you drown in the thick of ale and reminisce over what you were and could have been. Days slip by in a mosaic of frames, and the trust youβd earned in the plight of your heroic day is replaced with pity and gossipy whispers. You serve an example to what happens to all fables when their story ends, washed-up and forgotten. The Leviathan nears and you realise you have nothing to lose and everything to gain; a chance to reclaim what was lost or slip further into your own self-wreckage.
ON HOLD
THE CAIN
THE CAIN
THE CAIN.
Status
ON HOLD.
It nests like scorpions that sting you raw, this torment borne from birthright. First of two siblings but always second best in the eyes of family and friends, you fight to carve yourself recognition when pushed aside and forgotten in the shadow of THE ABEL. You want to be seen but are scathing with resentment as they conquer even you.
In the drowning of your desperation emerges the potent kernel of a dangerous thought: If you cannot be loved, perhaps removing the competition will leave you as the only option for their admiration.
Your sibling invites you to the ship with a ticket. Now you must bide your time to ensure they meet a tragic, yet authentic end.
ON HOLD
THE CRYPTKEEPER
THE CRYPTKEEPER
THE CRYPTKEEPER.
Status
ON HOLD.
Purgatory doesnβt feel alive nor dead; the dark shiver of the Leviathanβs underbelly where cold serves the best preservation for bodies. Slabs of meat with ice immortalized into flesh, hands are seizing fibrous meat as if to clutch to life a little longer, and you knead warmth to ease that final protest into restful permanence. You look at death and find comfort in glass-eyed sour and locked vault skulls for you too are sculpted like a catacomb, consecrated with promises and truth-tellers of coffin-side family members. A dual-wielding specialist of both undertaker and confessional, what will survive is what a funeral director can create, and you have dedicated your life to ferrying dead from coffins to soil or sea and hallowing their lives as something always worth the effort.
CLOSED
THE DROWNED
THE DROWNED
THE DROWNED.
Status
CLOSED.
It is difficult to lose your memory. You know the principles of speaking and walking long before your own name, know the feeling of family and love but no faces to ascertain it to. Dropped into the gray waters of Algol and abandoned by those you can no longer recall, your memory is rendered down to a miasma of smoke and static. You were there in Haven inn, there slumped on the shores of Algol, there when you woke into a horrific decay of strangers losing trust and sense. Your past life is like a spectre, a plume of smoke that veils who you were and who you are now. You, The Drowned, must make steps towards an actual future for yourself; one you can actually remember.
PRECURSORS
It is advised to read/skim through chapter three of the in-character to understand the arrival and context of this character pitch. The beginning of chapter three is linked [HERE] .
CLOSED
THE DEVOUT
THE DEVOUT
THE DEVOUT.
STATUS
CLOSED.
Your viscera shimmers with aurora, hair eased across stars and constellated with reverence of the divine order. Enlightened by the Covenant of Aethera, you are a synchronised beat, a rhythm aligned, and are held hostage by the ivory fear and ink-exterior truth.
But the Leviathan births your conflict like a howling babe, that this rigid faith cements you in a position that careens so dangerously to a wishbone snap. Will you accept the fate of the celestials as you watch your loved ones stumble with a blade sheathed in their gut? Can you standby when shrapnel cleaves limb to the opal skeleton, holds them in a maw of steel talon and splinter teeth?
Can you trust in this cold? Are the tinted roses bleeding? If death is a fate, does that mean you cannot stop it?
CLOSED
THE MODISTE
THE MODISTE
THE MODISTE.
Status
CLOSED.
Rapids of silk are pressed and moulded like carving marble out of water. The vision of a fairytale, your work is dualism between skill and creation. Spinning gold from ragged scraps, itβs an art-form full of nuances in both the handiwork and clientele. You form true selves on the silhouettes of your customers and watch as they choke on words and impending tears. Both your shackle and your escape, their pouches of coins and impatient eyes remind you the depth of their fascination is only measured to the worth you offer. A modiste now taken to water at the demand of realm-scattered nobles seeking your intricate craft, they admire you; how easy it would be for them to loathe you.
CLOSED
THE MASTER
THE MASTER
THE MASTER.
Status
CLOSED.
Cast from the peak of Zenithβs finest academic institution down to the muck of dishonour and repulsion, trailblazers will eventually meet a dawn with nothing left to burn. Innovative, theyβd once called you. Devotion and worship as you enticed masses to your unconventional experiments. Small-minded populace, you called them when they turned unwilling to open their minds, resistant to bearing the pink yolk of their cranium. Lungs crave the surface, skin craves preservation, fingers wrapped around closing airways and your mind is all but a still sea that stretches out in all directions. You do not listen to the screaming or begging, for there is no boundary to the waters of your mind. The underbelly of the matter is simple: no amount of immorality would ever be too filthy for your curious hands.
CONNECTED TO [THE MARIONETTE]
CLOSED
MARIONETTE
MARIONETTE
THE MARIONETTE.
Status
CLOSED.
After spending years convinced you like the pain, youβve survived in the dark of [THE MASTER] as their treasured plaything. Forfeited everything of your life to serve at their altar of their honeysuckle cruelty and brain-matter anger. Their table is a stadium of red and you are their best performer. Youβll always need to be the blood on their blade, the scar to their needle, the prize of their possessions. They crush your lungs and the sensation is sweet; you do not feel at home unless surrounded by teeming teeth. They made you a monster and loved every ugly feature, and you still promise them eternity knowing they will never return the same. Monster, your body has never belonged to you, and when it does, there will come a day where you have to learn what to do with it.
CONNECTED TO [THE MASTER]
CLOSED
HANDMAIDEN
HANDMAIDEN
THE HANDMAIDEN.
Status
CLOSED.
Having tugged that uniform over callused hands and tired pulse, this ouroboros of employment has never been any different. No time to primp and preen your own hair, no fresh manicured nails or scented oils imported from Siroc, no polish to your crude status. Nothing but an overlooked fragment to ferry platters and turn the beds of the wealthy, you may wash your hands of grime and grit, but nothing will erase the stain blemishing your bones. A servant with no more to their name but a bucket and mop, there is a soft cadence beneath your skin that craves something more.
CLOSED
THE SCHOLAR
THE SCHOLAR
THE SCHOLAR.
Status
CLOSED.
Naive, absentminded fool. Nose in a book with time and reality running outside of conscious understanding, itβs inevitable, really, that a hermit would be jarred alert to this expanse of everything New. All holy things are either beautiful or terrifying, and in the marrow of your bones is the devotion to curiosity. You stumble with the determination of a newborn foal, all clumsy footing and adolescent mistakes to cater that interestβ to learn. And you will, certainly. Will learn the practised loops of rope, of the eddying roll of callow sealegs, of the sisyphean reality of scooping shrapnel from the gut.
CLOSED
BEASTMASTER
BEASTMASTER
THE BEASTMASTER.
Status
CLOSED.
Whether it's the adrenaline of a hunt or fragile steps of taming, youβve always understood the rhythm of nature as if it were your own. Beasts for the Siroccan travelling circus, forbidden species for the Antares Bazaar and exotic pets for the wealthy echelons of society; you capture, tame and provide through the silent navigation of eyes and claws and everything that growls.
The ocean is a new frontier and the King has decided the crew cannot fall short in any aspect. Assigned to the ship with your distinct skill set in everything animal, but now the only beasts in your midst are ship tabbies and back-stabbing strangers.
CLOSED
THE CUPID
THE CUPID
THE CUPID.
Status
CLOSED
Matchmaker, youβre a renowned liaison for everything labelled Love. Eros of Solas, the success stories follow you, so too do the desperate who are festering and begging for help. Connecting even the most stubborn of nobles, Cupidβs latest duo always become the realmβs awe of the month. But when the shimmering mirage of the honeymoon fades, youβre no longer around when the scandals and infidelity break loose. Cupid is never there in the aftermath wounds of meddlesome arrows, for Cupid already has their aim pointed elsewhere: nobles abroad request your expertise for approaching marriage seasons, and you are inclined to obey.
CLOSED
THE BEREAVED
THE BEREAVED
THE BEREAVED.
Status
CLOSED.
People have died for less and people have died for more, but you just wish they hadnβt died at all. Still caught in the throes of a bodiless wake, youβd never understood their fascination with the sea. A graveyard where every direction is a heartless blue expanse mocking what you mourn. You buy a ticket with intent to know what could be so compelling about salt and cruelty, and the pathways of your hateful mind yearn for peace you may never find. The sea has claimed them, whether through storm or murder you may not know, and yet you board The Leviathan and confront what you despise most because it is the closest you can venture to the ghost of your grief. Maybe in the end youβll understand why they left. Maybe in the end the sea will take you too.
UNAVAILABLE
THE CAPTIVE
THE CAPTIVE
THE CAPTIVE.
Status
UNAVAILABLE.
Two lovers in the Stygian Order, one heist, one mistake, and only one left alive to be shackled and found guilty in the trials of Zenith. Loaded onto The Leviathan as nothing but cargo to be brought to Siroc for their councilβs consequence, the narrative of indifference you thought you could plead is breaking. Youβve always liked the classics: temptation, romance, vengeance, but your lover is a burning relic lost to time and you promise never to make the same mistake of losing someone ever again.
UNAVAILABLE
THE SABOTEUR
THE SABOTEUR
THE SABOTEUR.
Status
UNAVAILABLE.
Antares is known for its temper, and youβve been weaned to find comfort in its taste of danger. That is what loyalty is, taking their sin and deciding you can live with it, can serve it. Killing does not have to be all gunpowder and ripping, a soft drag of natural decay is much more inconspicuous. At night you cast food and fresh water over the side of the ship and pray the gradual losses grow in magnitude. The inches of humanity may recoil inside, but the scorch is but a flicker of what you may invite if you fail. The biggest threat in these waters isnβt made of wood and whale oil, but the hazard The Leviathan poses to your party port home.
Antares wants the ship engulfed in either flame or ocean. If they cannot have it, nobody can.
CLOSED
THE MUTINEER
THE MUTINEER
THE MUTINEER.
Status
CLOSED.
Loyalty isnβt your color, but being at the helm of The Leviathan might be. Serpentine first-mate with a palate for power, there is nary position you seek more than the captains. It is the ultimate manifestation of avarice, gross rapacity that calls you to heel. Your tendrils will coil like root or web, drink obedience into others and watch it ribbon a butterfly effect, but long-standing entanglement may tamp your inferno desire of a riot, may have you weighing if mutiny will be worth the death of those you have grown to find familiar.
CLOSED
THE OPHIDIAN
THE OPHIDIAN
THE OPHIDIAN.
Status
CLOSED.
Itβs excruciating to play this creature, all itching shed and common misconception. Hidden informant for the King, not even for his newest vessel does the ruler go without extra precautions. Easy to lie and swallow your serpent teeth, to everybody you are looked over as nothing more than another guest. Youβll scrounge secrets from the bones of dishonest Kingsmen and recoil back to the side of your ruler to reveal the rattle. Youβve faced worse than liars and cheats, but perhaps not worse than a knife twisting in your chest when you notice those same liars have become incalculable in value.
CLOSED
THE ACROBAT
THE ACROBAT
THE ACROBAT.
Status
CLOSED.
After an injury during your stint in the Siroccan travelling Circus, you were cast aside and replaced to be left alone with an invisible audience. Swaddled in nothing but the plaster and stitch as penance of your clumsy misfooting, it exposes a lack of purpose watching the troupe depart without you. The hurt grows edges and you are veering towards disaster, abrasive and shadowed where betrayal bleeds to vengeance;
best not follow that bloodied urge, lest you find the stem of your hurt has bloomed directly from a hand of sabotage.
CLOSED
THE GLADIATOR
THE GLADIATOR
THE GLADIATOR.
Status
CLOSED.
Emblematic achievement, this victory lap aboard the Leviathan. A lifetime earned in the gladiatorial performances of Siroc, lifetimes ended from the own physical gravity of your own weapon; for the sake of sanity you ought to smile and wave to ports of reverence, watch them marvel and swoon at the reputation youβve built for yourself. Try to ignore the shadow of you that is aching and cutting close against skin like nostalgic threats:
youβve taken lives and they applaud you for it.
CLOSED
THE BUTCHER
THE BUTCHER
THE BUTCHER.
Status
CLOSED.
The intimacy in which you gut a pig is enough to make a man cross his legs tight with fear. A surgeon's precision with slaughterhouse vivacity, there is a place, far from the embrace of this ship, where they speak your name as a threat. You are the Culinarian, Blademaster, a mythic reaper with a knife just as sharp, and people forget creation stories stem from the story of a loss.
No matter fable or truth, you, the Butcher, know itβs in your blood. Cooling slabs of meat are your company, so too is the violence.
CLOSED
SOOTHSAYER
SOOTHSAYER
THE SOOTHSAYER.
Status
CLOSED.
To make an enigma, one has to reject each of their organs and watch them from afar. Scattered memories of who you were and who you could be are guttered away just to be the perfect liar, let them worship your own false divinity.
Etched in tea leaves and chai, the smoke of your voice cradles and disfigures even the most steadfast of men. Dripping with shadowhoney and cavity-sweet promise, the strata of your prophecies are endless and multiple. With no clarity for truth, there is a divide on the ship for your legitimacy. Are you serpentine damnation? Do you hide your fangs and lie?
Do you think it can last forever?
CLOSED
THE GUILLOTINE
THE GUILLOTINE
THE GUILLOTINE.
STATUS
CLOSED.
High society is tough on the teeth, sweet on the tongue, but so too is the reward of an early inheritance. Spoiled as pomegranate, youβve taken those fuschia kernels and gnashed every condemning nutrient between the shoals of your shark teeth to saturate yourself in the hubristic damnation you deserve.
How unsullied you are to the public, all rhinestone smiles and polished holy stones for eyes. The filth is in you, this is how you were taught, and the rolling heads of mommy and daddy dearest can no longer keep you from your goals.
A city sweetheart with a tragic family demise, oppose me, you wish to beg it of them, give a reason to drop the axe.
CLOSED
THE ENAMORED
THE ENAMORED
THE ENAMORED.
STATUS
CLOSED.
Thereβs no skillset or wealth to your name, and youβve had to purchase a spot onboard the Leviathan at the price of your body. A honey trapping consort, you blink your dowry lashes that are laced with a hundred burdens. The sacrifice of offering yourself is heavy, seconded only by your admiration reserved for one.
No matter their flagrant disinterest, you only have eyes for them, and youβre willing to weather it all for that simple fact; disparaging stares from crew, offhand remarks, sleazy hands that pass over thigh and the change from disgust to expectation after a tankard of alcohol; you weather it all just to stay close to the one you love.
Youβre not sure if youβre allowed to grieve the loss of something you never had to begin with.
CLOSED
DESCENDANT
DESCENDANT
THE DESCENDANT.
Status
CLOSED.
Conflict is gnawing itself ragged from the bones that hold you together, hold you to a level of respect youβd never have gotten to experience in a single lifetime if you were the scion to anybody else. Child of revered outlaw The Red Baron, youβre weaned on both adulation and detestation, of infamy and a family name not of your own doing.
Nature or nurture, there is blood in your veins, blood on your hands, blood so intimate with your ancestry and origin that you have no other option but to plead guiltyβ be born guilty.
Maybe youβll dig your fingers to every softened scab or ropey scar to peel back layers of vestigial skin, maybe youβll find some good. Maybe youβll find a wellspring bubbling with rot and realise youβve always been just like your father. Maybe youβll find a way to be proud of that.
CLOSED
AMBASSADOR
AMBASSADOR
THE AMBASSADOR.
STATUS
CLOSED
Responsibility sticks to you like a second skin, a melted membrane that dilutes through veins and bleeds from your mouth in a deluge of loyalty. Trusted mouthpiece for the King, you represent his guidance and are assigned to keep the ship on due-course.
For King and Country youβve pledged, and you play your part well. Unfaltering, mythic and imperial, but thereβs nothing to stop the interference of caution, of a conscience, of nothing and nobody to turn to when you lose sight of the horizon.
Salvation or immolation, youβre not sure you can recognise the difference. Perhaps for the sake of your own mind, you ought to consider it just a job. You canβt undo a pledge, but you can always abandon your post.
CLOSED
THE HUNTSMAN
THE HUNTSMAN
THE HUNTSMAN.
STATUS
CLOSED.
Blood is thicker than water, but coin thicker than blood, and youβve tracked leagues of land and expanded to the endless water to hound that reward. Weapons are intimate to your hand, so too is the payment for criminal or runaway scion, and youβve learned that whoever pays best is the only King you honour.
Bounty paths your way to The Leviathan, promised bloodbath from multiple fronts; you are Thanatos, smears of gunpowder and red sands, but your ambition may not stretch far enough to cater the creeping doubts, that rearing threat of camaraderie stirring from your regolith of denial.
You donβt realise it yet, but youβre outnumbered.
You donβt realise it yet, but youβre the target.
CLOSED
THE SCRIBE
THE SCRIBE
THE SCRIBE.
STATUS
CLOSED.
It was because pink fat blooms from laceration like hibiscus, like a deluge of salmon taffy ripe and wet.
Because of this, you have to pillage letters that werenβt written for you, have to wear a name that isnβt yours, and sometimes you fear, must wear the ghost of an unfitting smile. The agony of your own mysterium is felt so acutely by everyone around you, and the identity ripples like a stirring tide, like a loose coat lapping at your legs.
It was a mistake, you promised this to yourself, but your narrative was doomed the moment you sheathed a knife into the journalistβs belly. This name akin to a mask is now your repentance, for your survival has become a burden of impersonation.
CLOSED
THE MAESTRO
THE MAESTRO
THE MAESTRO.
STATUS
CLOSED.
Twisted animal gut is the strings of your instrument, stretched taut and greased to their limit; you know how to pluck nimble with your dexterous fingers, so too the puppets of the upper class. You know the sound of a melody, same as the secrets of the wealthy when listening to their scandals and clandestine conversations.
You hide in clear view, can blend into the background like a susurrus and phantom shadow, are the monolith of both harmony and enlightenment, a patron of wisdom. There is carnal opportunity, an untapped ravine at your disposal, impaled only by indecision to dangle extortion over their heads.
What a prodigy you are, to both music and power.
CLOSED
THE KINGSLAYER
THE KINGSLAYER
THE KINGSLAYER.
Status
CLOSED
You are never to be crown-touched, same as you are never to be crown-owned. Coated in regicide, itβs your very marrow that is ribboned with vein and chain reaction that brings the luminous sea of what you once were to a bubbling boil of black. Heretic boy, you should know hate misshapes even the most woodland and benevolent to something beyond help, something that would rather die in captivity than domestication.
Youβve never cared for the politesse of formality, never cared to bow head or lower a knee, the unspoken agenda is seeping through the claret of your home, through the plum bruising of knuckles and blood-lined teeth and oath of a blade-soaked retribution, you are lit like the sun, like an altar, all blaze and riot and devotion to your point in faith; what a terrible gift to grieve, what a terrible fate to be consumed by it.
CLOSED
THE LAZARUS
THE LAZARUS
THE LAZARUS.
Status
CLOSED
A botanist hunting for immortality, how ironic to actively wilt as the world blooms with life around you. Heir to the Oracles of Aethera, the covenant has wounded you, allowed your heart to weaken and wane through a youth stricken with fever and tissues of ferrous blood.
Be sure to contain it as it rots, petal by petal, inside the cage of theatrics you have hid yourself inside. Wounded and sentenced with no promise of a future, you are treading water, donβt know how to ask for help or pray or not feel afraid of the weakness that is seeping the warchest of your heart like an arctic tundra.
Your journey is to be short-lived, and you fear all that will be left in the end is your salted gasps for clemency. Thereβll come a time you no longer search for a remedy, but a soft place to bury your bones.
Roles
GM AFTERWORD.
A note that Rogue Waves is not always accepting applications, and I open this roleplay up intermittently when the in-character is at a stage/location where I think new writers could enter the easiest. We are currently OPEN to applications and excited to begin Season Two with some new writers.
Rogue Waves has been my first tango with GMing and sometimes it feels like an olympic sport. While I am no longer that cutesy thing that was here back in May, you still have to be nice to me or Iβll throw up (Β΄ο½‘β’ Ο β’ｑ`) β‘. Thank-you for placing your marvellous eyes (your wattpad blue ocean orbs) onto this interest check.
Rogue Waves has been active for a few months, donβt click away just because you read that please stay for a moment [threat]. While itβs scary to join roleplays once they have already started, Rogue Waves is flexible due to its travelling aspect and ever-evolving cast. I try to reopen the roleplay at intervals where I think it is easiest for newcomers to join, and this time, I will accept new characters from both existing writers and new ones to begin Season 2 with a fresh batch onboard. I am hoping this gives newcomers a nice opportunity to get plots instead of feeling like they have to pick the leftover crumbs.
Rogue Waves is a high-seas, low-fantasy roleplay, focused on the crew (and guests) that are onboard the The Leviathan, a mulitpurpose royal vessel partaking on it's maiden voyage. This roleplay is heavily reliant on character development, connections, and what is soon to be some moral dilemmas.
It would be so delicious if you could read the ancient scrolls (the boring rules) listed to my right. I do not run this like the navy. I am just a distressed mother with many children. Please make my parenting easy.
GENERAL GUIDELINES.
This is an application based roleplay (not first come first served), and when I have accepted writers they will be invited to join an OOC hosted on Discord on a decided admission date. The Discord OOC is a compulsory aspect.
There is a google document that serves all our lore, locations, faction groups you may like to associate your character with, and some limitations on character creation. Please note this is not a lore-heavy roleplay and I will not weigh writers down with pages of information to read or memorise or be restricted by because even I will likely forget it.
Writers are to be over 18. This is not because I think minors are incapable of writing well or too immature to handle topics in this roleplay, but because I do not want to facilitate a platform where these differing age groups can interact and risk anything happening.
Mature themes will be present. Violence, cussing, death, substance use and abuse, intimate relationships that abide the rpn rules god bless, etc and all are to be handled respectfully. While this roleplay has darker aspects, Iβm also looking for a balance in light-hearted scenes, comradery, sentiment, good sailor fun and whatnot. The interest check has a darker aesthetic just because I like it, not because this is a 100% sombre depressing torturous experience where everyone is starving and injured and sad. Or at least, not all the time ( β’ β© β’ )...
PROGRESSION GUIDELINES.
This roleplay operates on skips/chapters. This means every few weeks the scene will end and begin a new one to keep things fresh and lively. Chapters are privy to change due to writers suggestions, longevity of the roleplay, and decisions that characters make. Information on past chapters, future chapters, and the current chapter can be found in the google document. Chapters contain a mix of sandbox opportunities, solo writing prompts/challenges, and story.
ACTIVITY & POSTING.
I am looking for a long-term roleplay with long-term characters. If you are unable to commit, do not apply. If you have a habit of joining roleplays and disappearing/withdrawing within the first month, this is not the place for you.
If you communicate your absence or delays, your character/s can be written out for othersβ convenience to return later. This frees up the time I have to spend checking in on you, but also frees up the individual/s that are waiting on a post. If you ghost completely and I can see you active in other places while you ignore my dms, I will take initiative to remove you from the roleplay. Under these circumstances it is unlikely I will allow you to return.
There is a posting expectation of one post every 7-12-ish days, with leniency for busy times of the year. With that in mind, I am not going to chase those that play hard-to-get. This now pushes the responsibility from the GM onto the writers themselves because Iβm too youthful to spend my time nagging.
I will note that I am always willing to help if you feel left out, but cannot do so unless you communicate with me, and also cannot do so if you do not make an effort to try.
Writing does not have to be purple or novella. My main goal is that writers have fun and look forward to posting. We arenβt judgemental here at RW because that would not be friendly boy swag of us. Literacy is subjective, but a steady grasp on grammar and spelling is desired. Posts are to be around 300 words & beyond.
New applicants do not need to read every single character sheet, however it is expected that you slowly work through reading/skimming them in the weeks after acceptance. It is the easiest way to familiarise with the cast, what we do and donβt have, and figure out potential plots. We do have a google doc with summaries of the characters, however this is not a substitute for everyoneβs beautiful work.
Writers do not need to read every single post in-character if they do not want to. It would obviously be recommended so youβre aware of what others are doing and get to admire the effort they put into writing, but I understand not everyone has that sort of time on their hands. New writers do not have to backread the in-character if they do not want to.
CHARACTER GUIDELINES.
Due to the size of our cast, there are IMPORTANT limitations listed in the google document. This specifies what kind of characters we have too many of, face-claims that are currently in use, and types of characters that I am going to favor accepting. It is ESSENTIAL that you check this area, as Iβd hate for you to write an entire beautiful sheet only to find it declined because of this oversight.
Face-claims are to be real people or a detailed description. Just for a little bit of immersion-sake, preferably no huge image in the character sheet of them taking mirror selfies with their iPhone. Other than that, please donβt feel the need to hunt down anything theme-accurate. I will NOT be accepting AI generated face claims, no matter their realism, but I do not mind if they are used as inspiration/aesthetic purposes for those that prefer written descriptions.
I like to see diversity in characters, ensure they are represented respectfully. If you're being weird, I'm going to bite you. I have at least 7 teeth.
Newcomers are at a limit of two characters, with permission for more to be slowly delegated to those that can prove to be reliable (hence some current members having more). You do not have to use all of your characters for each event, and can pick and choose who to use and when, I just need to know that you are invested in the roleplay, rather than churning out 8 character sheets and never posting with them and then we lose 40% of the cast when you leave.
Characters are to be human and over 21. Majority of our cast settles around 21-35, so just keep in mind the potential of being an outlier if you have an older character. (If only this golden era could be full of golden girls).
There are some role pitches that I think are interesting and not seen in our cast currently, but you are not restricted to applying for them, and are able to tweak them to your liking or write up your own. If you are not wanting to read all of the CSes to establish what our cast already has, Iβd greatly recommend pitching the idea to me in dms or ooc and I can give you a thumbs up if something already exists or not. A reminder to check the character limitations area in the document.
You may have noticed thereβs not much mention of the characterβs positions on the boat, as I don't intend for these jobs to play too much screen time in our chapters. Your character may be onboard as a guest, have their own quest to fulfil, be travelling to a different dock, designated by royalty, etc. If you have a position in mind youβd really like your character to have, Iβll take it into consideration (Iβll most likely say yes unless there is a clash, and even then, will endeavour to find the best alternative). In the Discord there is a channel where writers can note it down.
GAO'S DEALBREAKERS.
If I find group chats have been made outside of the roleplay to specifically talk badly about other writers in Rogue Waves, Iβll bite 'em. (Remember my 7 teeth).
No plagiarism. It's a bit wild that I actually have to specify this.
If you are transphobic, sexist, homophobic, fatphobic, racist etc, then this roleplay is not available to you. I donβt want you here. Or anywhere, for that matter. If youβd like to explore these topics in your characterβs history or a post, please ensure itβs handled sensitively and maturely. Failure to do so will result in an uncomfortable intervention from yours truly (and I really donβt wanna have to do that).
If an issue arises out-of-character, please resolve it in dms with me or directly with the person involved. We're adults, I want to treat you as such. Starting drama in ooc or engaging in dogpiling is unsavory and consequences will be allocated to those involved. I do not expect every single person to be best friends (especially on a platform like rpn), and you will never be forced to interact with anyone you do not wish to, but I do expect everyone to be mature enough to be polite. Civil is sexy. Letβs be civil, and by lovely association, sexy.
IN FINALITY.
Thank-you honeys for reading all of that, awfully delicious of you.
Any questions do come ask! My dms are open and the on-site ooc will be riled up to communicate during the application process. Please feel free to ask questions through there, yap about your ideas or just say a charming little good morning.
OOC || APPLICATIONS || IN-CHARACTER
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. But also so very delighted to have your interest 
