Maiko's Note
The archives of the Empire list Pashevadjan as unclaimed maritime hazard. That classification, in its sterility, says everything — and nothing.
What lies beyond those storm-clawed reefs is more than territory. It is a wound that refused to close. A memory of rebellion that never forgot how to laugh — or kill.
The pirates who dwell there do not consider themselves exiles. They are the freeborn. They name no king. They answer no beacon but the tide.
Keith once asked me if I could chart the safe passage to Drabàshendol. I told him no.
The Western Isles
Shindjal: Pashevadjan
Faction:
Pashevalani
“Where the sea forgets the land, and pirates remember their oaths.”
1. Overview
Far beyond the western shores of Shawadjan, hidden past the horizon and shrouded in mist and legend, lies the perilous archipelago known as Pashevadjan, or “The Land of the Tide.”
To outsiders, it is a graveyard of ships. To its inhabitants, it is home.
2. Geography & Danger
The Western Isles appear to be the remnants of a sunken mountain range. Jagged peaks rise above and below the waves, forming a sprawling maze of invisible shoals and ship-killing teeth. Only those living on the isles - the Pashevalani - know the safe routes through.
The isles are rocky, weather-torn, and utterly inhospitable to outsiders. Rain lashes cliffs, winds howl through broken peaks, and landing on the wrong beach can mean sudden death. There are no inns for the soul here - only survival, brotherhood, and the sea.
3. The Pashevalani (Drabàshi)
Known by outsiders as Drabàshi (“bandits” in Hanjelani speech), the Pashevalani are fierce, seafaring clans of pirates and raiders. Each major island is ruled by a pirate captain, independent and proud, yet bound by an ancient oath to stand together when enemies draw near.
While internal skirmishes and rivalries are common, no outsider force - not even the Empire - has ever managed to conquer the isles. Every lagoon hides a fleet, every rock may shelter an archer, and every deal is remembered in blood.
4. Drabàshendol – “Bandit Hideout”
At the heart of the archipelago lies Drabàshendol, the hidden capital of piracy. Tucked deep within a sheltered lagoon and surrounded by the territories of rival captains, it serves as a neutral ground.
In Drabàshendol, ships are repaired, alliances forged, and rivalries… suspended.
Taverns spill with music and danger, while traders deal in plundered goods, contraband, and information. It is said no one rules Drabàshendol - but all fear the consequences of breaking the unspoken code.
5. The Ulmorith Hunt
Northwest of the isles lie the Pashunarak hunting grounds, where the sea-deep titan Ulmorith prowls. Hunting this great beast is a core part of Pashevalani culture. To join a captain’s crew, many must take part in an Ulmorith hunt and return with a token from the beast - a spine, a tooth, or a shard of its armor.
These hunts are as sacred as they are deadly, and even rival captains and sometimes ships of the Endulani join forces to bring one down.
6. Relations with the Endulani
Of all the peoples of Shawadjan, only the Endulani are permitted to enter Pashevadjan or learn to sail its deadly waters.
The Ravens of Endunedul and the pirate captains have long maintained a quiet alliance. They trade knowledge, goods, and occasionally join forces during the Ulmorith hunts. Some say ancient bloodlines tie the two peoples together - but if so, no one speaks of it aloud.
7. Terminology
Pashevadjan, Land of the Tide (the Western Isles)
Pashevalani, People of the Tide - the native pirate clans
Drabàshi, Bandits (Hanjelani term for the pirates)
Drabàshendol, Bandit Hideout - central pirate harbor
Pashunarak, Giant sea-beast; apex predator of the deep
Maiko's Note
The archives of the Empire list Pashevadjan as unclaimed maritime hazard. That classification, in its sterility, says everything — and nothing.
What lies beyond those storm-clawed reefs is more than territory. It is a wound that refused to close. A memory of rebellion that never forgot how to laugh — or kill.
The pirates who dwell there do not consider themselves exiles. They are the freeborn. They name no king. They answer no beacon but the tide.
Keith once asked me if I could chart the safe passage to Drabàshendol. I told him no.
