Uriel 20, 1790 — Off Zu-Vendis, skiff swarms fly pirate flags and cult banners. Crews speak of cash-drop ransoms, burned hulls, and captives who return… changed. Authorities insist they’re “on top of it.” The coast smells of diesel, brine, and fear. The Democratic Republic of Ikisat rules the Boqortooyo of Zu-Vendis through a military dictatorship that struggles to control warlords, cults, vestigial kingdoms, and necromantic armies—while allowing megacorporations to set extraterritorial enclaves. That mix leaves maritime law full of holes.
Pirate and cult skiffs patrol the Zu-Vendis coast, their tattered banners a harbinger of a grim new reality for sailors. (Credit: Kenomitian)
Survivors describe pirate flotillas calling themselves Asanbosam Prides wielding the gifts of Shâchath’s get. They swarm from motherships in fast skiffs, seize crews, and demand helicopter cash-drops. Noncompliant hulls are torched during “ritual adjudications,” witnesses say. Allegations point to overlapping Diabolic patronage: Beelzebub’s Mastema, Belial’s Shedim, and Moloch’s Shārāp Me’ōpêp.
Asanbosam Prides, wielding unholy gifts, swarm from their motherships in a predatory hunt for new victims off the coast of Zu-Vendis (Credit: Kenomitian)
Fisher co-ops now cut sorties and avoid dusk. Many dhows sail uninsured after war-risk premiums spiked, while smugger craft shadow convoys for a fee. Harbor bulletins advise corpse-handling protocols in case of Mastema occupation and warn against accepting “rescued” sailors without quarantine, given Shedim mimicry. Ward-mages sell Pyromancy baffles and smoke-eater charms to counter rumored Shārāp attacks; these wards are plausible under White and Green Pyromancy, which shield against fire, ash, and lava. Effectiveness varies by caster and budget.
Ward-mages offer their Pyromancy wards and smoke-eater charms as a desperate defense against the rumored attacks of the Shārāp (Credit: Kenomitian)
Ikisat recognizes megacorporate extraterritoriality, letting several corps run ports and police to their own charters. Enforcement gaps along those jurisdictional seams are where the Prides hunt. Across Kenoma there are eighteen extraterritorial megacorporations, several headquartered in Ikisat. Their overlapping footprints invite “auxiliaries” to posture as people’s coastguards while practicing ransom economics. That structure—not a single conspiracy—shapes the water. One name returns in dockside whispers: Mendes International. Canon places its headquarters in Ikisat and states its secret rulers are the Consorts of the Fire Bull. We have seen no documents tying Mendes operations to the Prides; authorities say they are “reviewing allegations”.
“We don’t go out after second bell,” says Hawa, a net captain from Lakhad. “A skiff came like teeth. They took my cousin. The man who came back wore his face wrong”.
A traumatized sailor recounts the capture of her cousin, only for him to return with a face that’s “wrong”—a chilling display of Shedim mimicry (Credit: Kenomitian)
An Ikisat Coastal Security spokesman, Lt. Chala, insists the state is “operationally dominant” and blames “foreign illegal trawlers” for “creating chaos and false flags”.
A Rot-Walker chaplain at Wainaba, speaking on background, admits parish clinics are “over capacity” with bite and burn trauma. “Rot is seldom just rot,” she says.
A Rot-Walker chaplain admits that parish clinics are overwhelmed, a testament to the brutal bite and burn trauma inflicted by the Asanbosam Prides (Credit: Kenomitian)
A Brassfolk cleric denies Consorts involvement. “Fire purifies. Piracy contaminates.” He calls reports of Shārāp apparitions “profane exaggerations”.
Lighthouse keeper K’Dolo has kept a tally: “They like weather. Squalls cover the chase. Bright hulls get hit first”.
Ikisat ordered curfews in several littoral townships and announced joint patrols where corporate charter waters meet national lanes. Officials also requested support from the International Policing Forces and flagged necromancy-related incidents to the Tartaruchi Undead Hunters. Neither organization has confirmed deployments. Religious authorities promise “internal inquiries.” None offered casualty figures.
Insurers are reassessing coverage on the gulf approaches. Ward-mage guilds urge standardized Pyromancy and exorcism protocols aboard all coastal craft, plus training against mimic infiltration.
Ikisat’s coast remains restless. Between the state, the corps, and the cults, ordinary sailors are footing the bill—one ransom, one burned hull, and one missing crewman at a time.
“The Digital Gaze,” a chilling scene that captures the silent and mysterious operations of the pirate sect under the guise of corporate surveillance.
