The Maharluini Traveler’s Guide

Compiled from the oral accounts of tide-priests, sailors, and storytellers of the Maharluini, this guide serves not merely as a collection of words and phrases, but as a window into the soul of a people shaped by salt and shadow. It is intended for wanderers, merchants, emissaries, and other brave-hearted souls who would walk alongside the Sea Children.

On the People of the Sea

The Maharluini are not one people, but many currents drawn into one tide. They hail from broken islands, some swallowed by time or by war, others only surviving through stories or sailor's myths. Though scattered along the coasts of Frae, they carry within them a tide-bond, an unspoken kinship marked not by blood alone, but by memory and motion. To walk among them is to enter a realm of layered voices, chants, waves, and stories woven like nets.

They speak a tongue known as Maráylan, a language with the rhythm of boat-song and the softness of rain. It is a language of both concealment and communion: spoken openly in taverns, whispered in rituals, and occasionally sung to the spirits below the waves.

Etiquette Among the Maharluini

When greeting a Maharluini elder, one must place the right hand over the heart and bow slightly, murmuring the word Kamáya. To ignore this is not an offense, but it marks you as either untrained or untrustworthy.

Questions of lineage or loss are never asked directly. Instead, those seeking knowledge must walk the edge of poetry, letting stories uncover truth at their own pace. Salted dried fish is a common peace offering, and cloth, especially blue or sea-green, is considered a gift of high regard.

Raise not your voice in a Maharluini home, nor near sacred waters, for quiet is a form of reverence and control. Shouting is for storms.

Language in Use: Among Markets, Waves, and Spirits

Within the bustling lantern-lit markets of Tayawán, one might hear the cry: Tagáyo dayán salápan?—"How much does that cost?" This is followed, often, by haggling softened by song-like tones. The Maharluini do not barter aggressively, but neither do they shy from clever deals.

When traveling by river or sea, one asks: May laywán para sa Kaluyán?"Is there a ship bound for Kaluyán?" It is wise to know such words, for Maharluini boatmasters speak little outside their own tongue.

In times of danger or urgency, the phrase May hibígan sa dagáy, "There is danger in the sea," may be the only warning before spears are drawn or sails are cut loose.

In spiritual matters, one must tread even more carefully. The Maharluini believe in the presence of the Alunáyo, spirits who linger in tides, trees, and forgotten pathways. To disturb one without proper offering or chant may invite misfortune. Before voyages or battles, the faithful whisper: Ali ka mawala, ali ka mabíngit—"Be not lost, be not tempted."

Of Rites and Remembering

Ceremony threads through Maharluini life like the tide through seaweed. Their most solemn rite is the Haliyáhan, performed at the edge of the water upon death or departure. A small hard-carved boat bearing a single flame is set adrift, while the living whisper: Haliyaw, Alunáyo. Layáyo ka sa sangnáya."Farewell, Spirit. Journey now in magic."

The Tayáhan, or Unity Feast, binds not just blood kin, but comrades and clans. Hands are marked with ash from sacred fires, and food is shared without rank or debt. To participate in such a rite is to become part of a living story.

When storms gather, the Salúmban is performed. Wind-charms are strung, and squid-ink is daubed on the brow. The storm is not cursed, but addressed, as a relative whose wrath must be acknowledged: Sangnáya ng sigwán, bantáy kami."Magic of the storm, protect us."

The Survivalist’s Lexicon

For those who would venture into wild places with Maharluini guides or alone, several terms are of dire importance. A rope is called gapatán, a knife patalím, and a fireless night is mourned with the words: Ali na kay apúgan"We have no fire." Seek water in the north? Say: May dánaw sa hilága. Wounded in battle? Cry: Tulónga ako, may sugát ako! "Help me, I am wounded!"

Magic is never called lightly. A potion is timára, a protective ward banyálo, and a healing chant tarána. Darker forces are named as paníkam, cursed with a taste of vinegar and brine.

Final Counsel

To know the Maharluini is to understand that history is not carried in books, but in hands, voices, and waves. Their language does not just name the world, it binds, remembers, and warns. Treat it with care, for to speak Maráylan is not merely to communicate, but to share breath with spirits, sailors and ancestors sailors alike.

Let the tide carry you kindly.