The Ignoble Vistari and the Blighted Dracomar

Vistari

Liars.  Thieves.  Murderers.  The Vistari are gypsy-like degenerates with no place to call home.  Upon first glance, one could take their bizarre traditions to be whimsical and engaging.  In reality, they're completely amoral and would sooner slit your throat than to offer you hospitality.

Traveling by caravan throughout the land are these sporadic people.  They favor elaborate decoration.  They have many holidays and songs.  But for whatever reason, they seem to be completely insane.

If the land of Dracomar wasn't dangerous enough, groups of Vistari hide about, ransacking travelers and plundering farms.  They seem to be the only ones foolish enough to mingle about in the wilds with the ravenous dead.

The bastard orcs, ogres, and rest of goblinkind know not to trust a double-crossing Vistari.  These people, whose origins are among scattered pages in forgotten tomes, are literally shunned by every other society.  The dead are their only friends.

The only thread of loyalty this race possesses is to themselves, esoteric tradition, and the Tower Mortari that stands far to the west.  They guard the land around Mortari with zealousness.  They call it "Dawnspire", but as their true native tongue is deviously jumbled, this name could be a mistranslation.  

This race has a lot of secrets.  They make professions out of traveling carnivalers, assassins, and shepherds of the undead.  There is a Vistarian tradition that dates back a century to when "noble" members of their people achieved temporal exaltation.  The most brave and wise were revered; part of their celebration was their supposed "transcendence" beyond mortality.  Because they were no longer to be recognized by their mortal appearance, they would cut off their faces.  The "Faceless Ones" would craft odd masks for their new faces.  This tradition is kept alive today by proud Vistarians--but they merely wear the masks to honor the nobles.  The days of actual "Faceless Ones" are probably long gone. 

Dracomar

Upon the blighted Aerth of Scourge, the realm of Dracomar sits at the eastern fringe.  The Blasted Steppes claim a good chuck of it.  It is said to be cursed.  There the dead roam free and terrorize passengers.  Men have gathered at Sirocco to carry on life's pursuits despite hostility.

In the northernmost regions, territory becomes less chartered.  Beyond the cliffs lies Wraithmarsh, an aptly named swampland where rivers run muddy and black.  A few villages are scattered about the foggy hills.  They are all weary of Eboracum, a tower that the fearful people literally worship.  They chant and play on instruments the "Requiem of Storms", a haunting melody that is forbidden in other lands as myth holds that it will attract ghosts if played.

In southern Dracomar, before the Ivory Palace of Carunar, there are two small villages: Folium and Eremia.  Most paranoid people have left them and sought fortification at Sirocco.   Beyond that, you reach the great region of Cimaria, which hosts the new Tower Vorox and the ruins of Morgancastle.

Carunar - a once beautiful temple built to Gods of Light.  Might have been overrun by idols.

Folium - agrarian town with just enough water.  Has no wall to keep out the dead.

Eremia - like Sirocco, but less rundown.

Vorox - tower than has claimed Morgancastle.

Morgancastle - fallen noble castle.