In the easter steppes , stuck between the lands of the Varangor and the Sea of Monsters, a people of starlight dwell in a land filled with curses, themselves being one of them.
The Ratartes early history is all but lost, it is only remembered that they were a people of starlight and all its beauty before the Chogtor made them bend. The reason for their enslaving instead of slaying was simple yet perverse, as their connection with the stars made them the best diviners in the steppe, and the art of astral divination could easily be put to the task of finding new lands to conquer, exploiting weaknesses in the enemy, and putting their people into chains.
They endured years of slave work, being hunters, yet always the prey. Many ratartes silently revolted by becoming incompetent, but another slave people of the Chogtor, the Turannor, was sent to find the revoltuous and cull them. One quarter of their already dwindling numbers went away in but a few nights, after which many of their women were married to their overlords, only to return years later with small troops of tiefling children.
Still, their gift of starlight helped them greatly, as many shamans foresaw the escape that the Turannor would begin. Plans were hatched in secret, even from half the tribe, and a friendship with the rebellious Gyamars was struck in case the red half chose wrong when the time arrived. When it did, both tribes made their breakout together, although the Gyamars thundered past the slow ratarte horde, ending their short lived and strained friendship.
The Ratartes are roughly evenly split between the white kor and the red tiefling variants, which affect their religion, culture, and governance.
The white ratartes claim to have the closest heritage to the civilization that was, holding the pantheon of starlight as their only religion and their starseers as leaders. Sune and Selune , as well as many major and minor stars. The White Khan is chosen amogst seers, the current one being Aliya Aynar Khatun the Beautiful, a steadfast ruler that has done everything in her stead to deepen the ties with the stars.
As for the red, they hate the Chogtor and all that they have put them trough, but instead of abandoning the ways of blood, they relish on them. Their pantheon is one of blood, giving praise to Asmoudeus, Baphonet, and the other lords of hell. Theirs is the path of blood magic, warring and the hunt. Whilst the whites despise their fate, the reds have found joy in their occupation. The Red Khan is always a warlord-sorcerer , the current one being Arslan Damir Khan, a renown manhunter with as much love for its bloodhounds as for its people.
The lands of the Ratarte are fertile, but relying on the soil will leave one dead, as every few years winter arrives early and kills all the crops. Herding feeds few, and there is little other riches. As such, their job under the Chogtor has become their way of life, turning the capital of Kythin into one of the biggest slave ports. One can request or find slaves of any variety, as long as enough money is had. With enough preparation, the Ratarte can capture anyone.
Large scale war is something to be avoided, but small scale war is a constant need , both for the business that keeps the grain flowing and to keep the threats of the land low. for this, the ratarte employ might and magic. Their skill with the bow , net and bola makes them efficient manhunters and skirmishers, with their horses being bred trough blood magic to have unnatural endurance, surviving several weeks of day and night travel on a few drops of muddy water and licking soil. The magics of the stars are employed to predict movements of the enemy, with large arrays of shamans allowing for forecasts on entire enemy movements paired with their familiars in the sky. Blood magic is then employed in the form of bloodhounds and spells for unnatural strenght, speed and endurance. The Ratartes are feared all troughout the world due to this, with only the Duergar Under Empire and the Shidte of Karan maintaining stable relations with them.
The original inhabitants of these steppes, bitterly thrown underground to survive, but in their own way, still thriving, taking joy in every pain that they inflict on the conquerors that have failed to drive them out.
The Kythenians are comprised of goblins, bugbears and harengon, with tabaxi being a small minority sprinkled in their numbers. Their tribes are small, formed of either bugbears and goblins or tabaxi and harengon. Folk tales would suggest these used to be two different people, but centuries together have melded most differences away. The average kythenian is cunning, pragmatic and always thinking of the next meal, as none are guaranteed.
With even their biggest city of Kythin captured by the fleeing slaves of the Chogtor, the tribesmen had no option but to go underground, though little changed in what put food on the table. Banditry, herding of small animals and slaving have kept them alive, and whilst a ratarte might survive on few resources, the average kythenian will survive on grass and droplets of water.
There is no overarching ruler of the kythenians, with most tribes being made of a few dozen individuals and an assortment of animals. Due to this, they remain more of a high nuisance than an actual threat to the ratarte Khanate, despite being very close in number to the kin of starlight and blood. A mixture of shamanistic rituals, dark rites, relics from civilzations forgotten by time and practices barely understood make the kythenian religion and access to magics. No uniform policy is in place, although the kythenian culture is very much one of the hunter and the tamer, bending creatures to their will no matter their nature.
Many kythenian warbands have ventured into the world, with their grit for surviving even the harshest terrain letting them prosper in mountains, deep forests, swamps, and anywhere that organized armies cannot cut them from the root. In times of raiding they are the masters of the long hunt, weakening their enemy with poisons and dieseases, pursuing atop their tamed wolves with expertise, then striking the killing blow from all directions at once. Much like the ratarte, they are reluctant to engage in decisive battle wherever possible, and their lack of a single major settlement forces them to use weapons scavenged from beaten enemies.
Against the border with the Principality of Wachonia is a land once famous for its wineries and lush hills, now infamous for being the shield to the dreaded slavers of the steppe.
The principality of the Dalmovs is comprised of a thin strip of land wedged between the Principality of Wachonia and the Ratarte steppes proper. A dozen or so towns with only three major settlements, this would be an unremarkable land were it not for two peculiarities. Firstly, despite being inside the range that the Malediction of Wachonia should curse, no beasts originate from it. Secondly, its powerful mages of unknown magics, and fierce warriors ready to defend what remains of their freedom.
The Dalmovs are comprised of Wood elves, Shifters and humans very similar to their wachoni cousins. It is their gith, who number around a thousand or less, that stick out. Mostly inhabiting the capital of Maesav, which they have built of solid stone and earthwork like not seen anywhere in the region. The average dalmov is of few words, wary of the outsiders, as they are rarely fond of dalmovs in return.
The ruler of the Dalmovs is the Prince, elected amogst the small nobility, who rules alongside its elected heir over major business, most important of which being their strained relations with outsiders. The principality used to be a fully subjugated land of the ratartes, with their peoples serving as farmer serfs, garrison for the border, and often , as slaves. Around one century ago, a night was struck with a comet, which heralded the arrival of the powerful gith. Their powerful magics of the mind and the world quickly carved a domain for them, which the dalmovs accepted, as they were a far more palatable choice. Yet their numbers were slim, and the ratartes not known for their stupidity. Faced with the threat of constant erosion by an enemy with the power of blood and stars, the dalmov princes made a harsh deal. They would protect the ratartes from invaders and supply them on their raids, but would not become slaves, and would become in some way, independent. Thus, the grasslands of wine became merely servants to evil, and were hated by all their neighbors for it.
The wachoni, gahunre and llapock have grown a special hatred for the dalmovs, with many punitive campaings attempting to destroy them as to get to the ratartes, all of them failing as the minds of their commanders melt and the earth opens beneath their feet, swallowing, then crushing their armies until weeks later, when peasants bring shovels and mattocks to scavenge what they can. In battle, the dalmovs preffer hit and run tactics, delaying and reporting the advancements of their enemies, until a single dalmov war mage can be bought to the battlefield. Then, devastation occurs, which brings the issue to a halt.