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.

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.