The nation of Ustalav is a settlement of far-spanning ethnic Varisians dating back two millennia. During this history much of the wandering way of their Varisian ancestors has been replaced by a regionalism. But to know the people of Ustalav you must understand their origin, the Varisians.
Many Varisians are wanderers and nomads, traveling in caravans and stopping only to put on exotic shows or to swindle and seduce locals. Yet just as many Varisians settle down and form small towns or, in the case of Ustalav, whole nations. They can be found everywhere there is a tale to learn, fortune to tell, or song to sing, but are most common in the lands north and west of Lake Encarthan, though they hold the lowlands of Varisia as their ancestral home. They have a dual reputation as exotic performers and dangerous thieves, and while many other races and cultures admire the Varisians, none fully trust them.
Varisians wear flowing, beautifully embroidered garments of red, green, blue, and purple, often adorned with strings of coins and tiny bells. Some derisively refer to Varisians as “magpies.” Tales of Varisian thieves running elaborate confidence games in cities, or methodically picking the pockets of all the patrons in a tavern in just a few minutes, add to this unflattering image. The Sczarni are the most notorious of Varisian thieves, and are the reason for much of the Varisians’ reputation for criminal activity. The Sczarni are less nomadic than many of their kin, and tend to settle down for months or years to run their operations.
Varisian fortune-tellers are famous across the land. Before the death of Aroden, Varisian seers, known as harrowers, could trace the path of a subject’s life into the near future and beyond. After Aroden’s death, their gift was severely damaged; now harrowers can see only a short distance into a murky, distorted future.
Music and dance are a significant part of Varisian culture. Most Varisians can play at least one instrument, but many can play two or three. Varisians have a song for every occasion, grand and mundane, even for tasks such as washing the dishes or building a fire. The moves that form the foundation of their dances are carefully structured and practiced until they become innate; in this way, Varisian dancers can improvise in the middle of performances while still keeping their style recognizable.
Scarves are strongly associated with Varisian culture as well. Varisian women in particular wear scarves in a myriad of colors with all outfits, and often attach superstitious beliefs to the color and material of their scarves. For instance, most Varisian women wear flowing red and pink scarves when trying to catch a man’s eye, or heavy purple scarves when telling fortunes). Varisian men also wear scarves to match their outfits, though they tend to be shorter and less elaborate than women’s scarves. Varisians have also designed scarves with hidden blades sewn into them to use as weapons.
Varisians are devoted to their families, and clans are incredibly close-knit. While caravans will stop to trade in towns, and some Varisians even settle in cities, clans always view non-members as outsiders. Fellow Varisians are given more consideration than other races and classes, but the clan receives unquestioned loyalty and support. This is not to say that Varisians never leave their clan. Some quarrel with family members and strike out on their own. Others, in the grip of the wanderlust that strikes most Varisians at some point in their life, desire more freedom than even a traveling clan can provide. Many Varisians are fascinated by ancient ruins, particularly those with a connection to Desna, and will travel hundreds of miles to investigate mere rumors of such ruins.
Many Varisians feel a special connection to Desna, and treat dreams with reverence. Varisian adventurers often pester their companions to recall their dreams upon waking, and then spend inordinate amounts of time recording and attempting to analyze those dreams. Their art often features butterflies and other symbols of Desna’s faith. While Varisians do not generally build temples, they often maintain shrines along well-traveled roads, stopping to perform any needed repairs, put out fresh flowers, and repaint fading symbols on the shrines whenever they pass by.
Languages: Common, Varisian
Favored Regions: Lands of the Linnorm Kings, Lastwall, Nidal, Nirmathas, Numeria, Ustalav, Varisia
Favored Religions: Abadar, Calistria, Cayden Cailean, Desna, Erastil, Gozreh, Norgorber, Sarenrae, Shelyn, Urgathoa
Female Names: Alika, Alinza, Anca, Bordana, Carmelizzia, Ilinica, Iolana, Luminita, Mirelinda, Narcizia, Nicinniana, Piousa, Zeldana, Zriorica
Male Names: Alezandaru, Andrezi, Dortlin, Eugeni, Henric, Ionacu, Iozif, Kazallin, Marduzi, Silvui, Skender, Tiberiu, Viorec, Zandu, Zstelian
Appearance: Ethnic Varisians have dusky skin and large, expressive eyes that are often of strange colors, such as violet or gold. Their hair color ranges widely, from platinum to blond to deep reds to brown to black—very few hair colors are considered unusual among Varisians. They tend to be a lithe and long-limbed folk, and men often have trouble growing facial hair, making the patchy or stringy beards and mustaches of Sczarni thugs a well-known look.
Passed down through the generations, a few of the old Varisian weapons still find favor in the hands of modern Ustalavi. They include:
Bladed Scarf (flails): Viewed from one side, this item looks like a brightly colored scarf, but the other side reveals rows of razor-sharp blades. Many Varisian performers carry it, relying on surprise and stealth to use it effectively.
Starknife (light blades, thrown): Developed long ago by Varisians, this chakramlike weapon has spread to many other lands and races as the holy weapon of Desna.
And certain Traits carry through in the blood of even these long-parted descendants of the Varisian wanderers. They include:
Harrow Born: You grew up around the mysterious fortune-tellers known throughout Ustalav and Varisia. You start play with a harrow deck passed down from a relative. Because of your skill with fortune-telling, you gain a +1 trait bonus on initiative checks.
Stargazer: You spent many years wandering the roads of Varisia and beyond, and during clear nights, you took to tracking the celestial bodies that adorn Golarion’s skies. You gain a +1 trait bonus on Knowledge (geography) and Survival checks.
“A History of the Varisians”
by Edouard Montaigne
In the time before this Golden Age, we were slaves, servants to fearsome devils who reigned in the northern lands. Trapped by an ancient covenant, our people served the devils for thousands of years before a hero arose to free us. No one remembers his name, but we refer to him as Vyush’baro, the Cunning Wolf. He beseeched the devils to provide us with a new covenant, and tricked them into signing a document so full of masterful speech and loops of logic that, when the signing was complete, our people were free.
In a rage, the devils pursued us through the twilight years, destroying the land wherever they stepped. But Vyush’baro led us into barrows and through tunnels, under mountains and over plains, until the devils vanished in howls of frustrations and left us to claim our true destiny.
Some say Vyush’baro was an angel, a servant of Desna, and that one day he will return in our darkest hour. Then, once again, we will follow him through black despair and mourning and come out into sunlight, to live forever in joy in our promised land.
“A History of the Varisians”
by Samrilla Deslee
The way my mother told it was that we once ruled a magnificent kingdom. We were kings and queens who lived in towers of gold and silver. We were so rich, vain, and powerful that we allowed a shadow to enter our hearts. We forgot our role as Desna’s chosen.
A wise woman, a fortuneteller named Amendra, saw our pride swell and sought to bring the word of Desna back to our people. Many cast away their fortunes to follow Amendra, while others chose to remain in their beautiful city. One morning, Amendra led the faithful away to find a new life as wanderers. That evening, a mysterious disaster struck the golden city, and all those who stayed behind died in the cataclysm.
Amendra taught our people that the quest for riches had led us astray. We forsake all property and settlement because we know it leads only to misery. Some think we wander aimlessly across Varisia, but we actually follow the path Amendra once took. My mother told me that, when we reach the end of the trail she left, Amendra will return and show us where our destiny lies.
“A History of the Varisians”
by Ekatarine Petalan
I dream sometimes of a great darkness, of our people walking through chambers and hallways so vast the walls become lost in the shadows. We carry candles that cannot penetrate the black and serve figures that stand always with their faces turned away. They appear human, in my dreams, but I sense they are so much more.
Then a great roar shatters the funeral peace; the walls shake and ceilings crumble. My people flee, faces streaked with dust, hands bloody from climbing through the wreckage. Those faceless figures, our masters, shriek in anguish and call fire and ice from the skies to protect their castles. They care nothing for us. They do not follow. They bring their power to bear to protect their lands but all for naught. They fall beneath piles of rubble while my people march into the night.
In my dream, it seems we walk for years, both over the land and beneath it, always searching for something. We lose our brothers and sisters to wild animals, fierce creatures with red eyes, starvation, disease, and broken hearts. When it seems I cannot bear another moment of this miserable trek, the sun rises. A flight of butterflies lifts off from the grass, and my people spin in joy, arms raised to the light. Now the sun begins its descent to the west, and I fear the coming dark. But as my dream splinters, I see a lunar-white moth flutter from the shadows to lead us on once more.
Passed down through the generations, a few of the old Varisian weapons still find favor in the hands of modern Ustalavi. They include:
Bladed Scarf (flails): Viewed from one side, this item looks like a brightly colored scarf, but the other side reveals rows of razor-sharp blades. Many Varisian performers carry it, relying on surprise and stealth to use it effectively.
Starknife (light blades, thrown): Developed long ago by Varisians, this chakramlike weapon has spread to many other lands and races as the holy weapon of Desna.
And certain Traits carry through in the blood of even these long-parted descendants of the Varisian wanderers. They include:
Harrow Born: You grew up around the mysterious fortune-tellers known throughout Ustalav and Varisia. You start play with a harrow deck passed down from a relative. Because of your skill with fortune-telling, you gain a +1 trait bonus on initiative checks.
Stargazer: You spent many years wandering the roads of Varisia and beyond, and during clear nights, you took to tracking the celestial bodies that adorn Golarion’s skies. You gain a +1 trait bonus on Knowledge (geography) and Survival checks.
“A History of the Varisians”
by Edouard Montaigne
In the time before this Golden Age, we were slaves, servants to fearsome devils who reigned in the northern lands. Trapped by an ancient covenant, our people served the devils for thousands of years before a hero arose to free us. No one remembers his name, but we refer to him as Vyush’baro, the Cunning Wolf. He beseeched the devils to provide us with a new covenant, and tricked them into signing a document so full of masterful speech and loops of logic that, when the signing was complete, our people were free.
In a rage, the devils pursued us through the twilight years, destroying the land wherever they stepped. But Vyush’baro led us into barrows and through tunnels, under mountains and over plains, until the devils vanished in howls of frustrations and left us to claim our true destiny.
Some say Vyush’baro was an angel, a servant of Desna, and that one day he will return in our darkest hour. Then, once again, we will follow him through black despair and mourning and come out into sunlight, to live forever in joy in our promised land.
“A History of the Varisians”
by Samrilla Deslee
The way my mother told it was that we once ruled a magnificent kingdom. We were kings and queens who lived in towers of gold and silver. We were so rich, vain, and powerful that we allowed a shadow to enter our hearts. We forgot our role as Desna’s chosen.
A wise woman, a fortuneteller named Amendra, saw our pride swell and sought to bring the word of Desna back to our people. Many cast away their fortunes to follow Amendra, while others chose to remain in their beautiful city. One morning, Amendra led the faithful away to find a new life as wanderers. That evening, a mysterious disaster struck the golden city, and all those who stayed behind died in the cataclysm.
Amendra taught our people that the quest for riches had led us astray. We forsake all property and settlement because we know it leads only to misery. Some think we wander aimlessly across Varisia, but we actually follow the path Amendra once took. My mother told me that, when we reach the end of the trail she left, Amendra will return and show us where our destiny lies.
“A History of the Varisians”
by Ekatarine Petalan
I dream sometimes of a great darkness, of our people walking through chambers and hallways so vast the walls become lost in the shadows. We carry candles that cannot penetrate the black and serve figures that stand always with their faces turned away. They appear human, in my dreams, but I sense they are so much more.
Then a great roar shatters the funeral peace; the walls shake and ceilings crumble. My people flee, faces streaked with dust, hands bloody from climbing through the wreckage. Those faceless figures, our masters, shriek in anguish and call fire and ice from the skies to protect their castles. They care nothing for us. They do not follow. They bring their power to bear to protect their lands but all for naught. They fall beneath piles of rubble while my people march into the night.
In my dream, it seems we walk for years, both over the land and beneath it, always searching for something. We lose our brothers and sisters to wild animals, fierce creatures with red eyes, starvation, disease, and broken hearts. When it seems I cannot bear another moment of this miserable trek, the sun rises. A flight of butterflies lifts off from the grass, and my people spin in joy, arms raised to the light. Now the sun begins its descent to the west, and I fear the coming dark. But as my dream splinters, I see a lunar-white moth flutter from the shadows to lead us on once more.