IC Nation Name: Aicrias
Capital: Ionad, Prefecture of Ionad
Government Type: It used to be a monarchy during the times of GW1 and got completely demolished, became communist in GW2, and the communist regime installed by the FSR in 1942 is still around to this day.
RP Population: ~44,000,000, though the number isn't known exactly due to the lack of a census for... what, seventy years?
Equivalent Ethnic Group(s): Dominantly Slavic with Iberian and minor Middle Eastern influences.
Equivalent Language(s): Dominantly Russian, influenced by Spanish and a tiny bit of Arabic.
GDP per Capita (USD): <$11,536 ($54,851, or $1,953 [circa. 1890] back before GW1)
HDI: .464 (Current, though before collapse it stood right around .850)
Brief Background of Nation (or IIWiki):Aicrias' early history considerably mimics that of Veleaz in its antiquity, save that Aicrias was and still is a hotspot for violence and turmoil. From as early as 450 BCE or earlier, nomadic groups of dominantly Velic, Kiakí, and Concursare tribesmen (Indo-Asuran ethnic groups) battled with tribal clans of Alymarian, Scati, and most notably Chalcian origin. While there were peaceful meetings between the Asuran and Cataian tribes, the popular understanding is that war was all too commonplace, and such conflicts kept the realm from unifying up until the Fiorentine Empire absorbed Veleaz, with the quarreling Aicrias not even two weeks after. Like Veleaz, not all of Aicrias was willing to let the Fiorentines run them over, and the tribes unified-- weakly-- to repel the Imperial invaders. However, as expected, the tribal alliance was too brittle to stand against the Imperial Army. With the tribes almost turning on each other, they were utterly annihilated at the Battle of Monté Prizma, which, amusingly enough, took place the day after the anti-Fiorentine tribal coalition was defeated in Veleaz.
All the way through to the 1850s Aicrias and Veleaz were on rather good terms, despite Aicrias preferring not to intervene in the religious turmoil from the 1400s through the 1600s. However, in 1689, Aicrias took the liberty of quelling Irsad influence in the Emirate of Vainakhia to the east, conquering it. Aicrias had a history of being on the sidelines of much of the world's conflicts to this point, notoriously refusing to back any side (though there are rumors that Aicriae agents operated covertly during the disputes). In 1867, however, Aicrias finally weighed in. With the outbreak of the Perpignan War, Aicrias aligned with Veleaz (primarily due to the beating Veleaz took during the Mydro-Commonwealth Wars, which stirred anti-Mydrasian sentiments nationwide). With their contribution, the crushing victory against the Mydrasians saw the war quickly brought to a close. Veleaz rewarded their neighbor with territory into former Mezoria. The relationship stood well into the first Great War.
But that is where Aicrias' luck ran dry. The conflict saw Veleaz broken and humiliated, and Aicrias pushed until conflicting sentiments, starvation, and lack of fighting spirit saw the monarchy of Aicrias collapse entirely in the final year of the war.
With the formation of the FSR around 1918, the efforts of Aicrias' neighbors saw combined efforts to subdue the brewing, lawless violence that broke out throughout the 1930s and 1940s, especially between Aicrias and Vainakhia. When their combined efforts forcefully quelled the disorder, they installed a provisional communist government in the spring of 1942 and stopped the war with the Vainakhians, who had declared independence shortly after Aicrias' collapse at the end of the Great War. While it was not an official member of the FSR, it was what could be called a lapdog for the next forty years, almost as a puppet even through the cold war. Even after the dissolution of the FSR in 1981, the communist regime remained, and once again, the tension with Vainakhia exploded into conflict, an on-and-off battle that lasted until 2001 when Veleazan dignitaries helped to negotiate a cease-fire, but no established treaty has ever been signed to end the hostilities. With communism still going strong in Aicrias and tensions smoldering in the east, the regional peace might quickly come to a fiery, bloody end...
Map Claim (Imgur):(
Image)
Geography and Climate of Nation: Very Eastern-European, where there are lots'a hills and semi-boreal forests (mostly pine and spruce). However, the topography is much flatter and more open.
Most Comparable Real-World country and Why?: Ukraine. It's the most geographically and climatically identical to Aicrias, a rather large country with a fleeting population and a hotspot for civil and political scuffles. Also used to be communist under the Soviet Union too. Only thing is that Ukraine actually still legitimately exists and isn't in a state of complete anarchy.
How will your nation fit within the existing regional power structure? (Strengths/Weaknesses):Strengths- Plentiful natural resources and enough farmland to be self-sustainable.
- Heavy industrial base capable of churning out some serious military hardware.
- Strategically good position on the continent, forming the majority of the passage into western Catai.
Weaknesses- Not the most stable place, prone to go to war.
- Landlocked from the ocean unless you count rivers.
- The military is...
meh[, but it is up-to-date.
If asked to reduce the strength of your nation, how would you do so?:I'm actually not sure, considering the country is already dead and buried and in constant turmoil.
How did you hear about Aeia?Digging around in the Region Search. I'd been posting on the Find-a-Region Megathread to no luck, and none of the recruitment telegrams were decent, so I resorted to good ol' sifting through the search filters.
What other nations do you use on NS?ZepherosEliswaraRoleplay Sample:Written as
Zepheros:
"Wake up."
Marcus Septrionalis stirs in the confined backseat of the black car. It was still dark as the vehicle gently eased down the dirt road on the mountainside.
"Marcus!"
"--Yeah, yeah, I'm up."
He sits up in the seat, gazing out of the rear cab window on the driver's side.
"Stop's up here. You know what to do."
Marcus looks to Narvik's eyes for a moment's breath, before he bends down to the floor of the car, cracking his knuckles as his hands fell around the rifle tagging along with them.
It wasn't much more than a .308 hunting rifle with a simple duplex scope bolted on top, but it would only take one shot.
Anything could be deadly in the right hands.
"Remember the plan, Marcus?"
"Aye."
The automobile eased to rest, the car hidden from sight, with the bright exterior lighting of the residence up shining over the hill in front of them.
"Council favor you, brother. Don't fail me."
Marcus opens the door.
"Wait."
Narvik stares him dead in the eyes and clenches a fist over his heart.
"Don't fail
me, Marcus. Don't fail
us. We are all watching."
Marcus gives a minuscule nod and exits the car with the rifle in tow.
The car purred to life and accelerated away, leaving Marcus on the hillside, armed with a single .308 rifle and twenty rounds of ammunition.
He inspected the rifle as he crept up onto the slope.
Narvik had told him of Tacitus' tyranny, but Marcus knew personally already. He had been present at Arce on November 26th, 1940, there at the massacre. He lost one of his close friends from childhood in the chaos.
Now here he was, setting himself up to make history. The bloody way.
What flowed through his veins wasn't support for Narvik's cause. It wasn't greed. It was revenge.
He lays down in the frostbitten grass. The mountain's snow squalls were frequent this time of the year. He needed to be careful, and time his shot perfectly.
With a pair of binoculars, he scanned the area around the Emperor's vacation residence.
Two guys at the gate, a sniper on the roof, one there in the driveway... and a clear shot to the front door..."
He didn't like the proximity he had to the target.
[i]Too close. I'll get made in an instant. A forest further up the hill perked his interest.
I can move there while it's still dark. The shot will be harder, but the cover will save me a lot of trouble... He brushed the snow off his jacket as he got to his feet, scanning the front of the complex as he moved his position, another hundred meters back from the house.
The sun was starting to come up. The hillside was to the east, so any problems with glare were not to be of trouble. After some digging, he found his shooting hide; between a snowy evergreen tree and a half-dead shrub that curled over his resting point. It would mask his breath in the cold.
But the dusting of snow would kick up as soon as he pulled the trigger, and that wasn't even taking the muzzle flash into account.
He just had to hold his breath. Literally too.
As the snow fell on him, he waited. The sun rose higher, and the crisp winter air lost its bite. Marcus raised his rifle, giving a half-second glance of his watch.
7:44AM.
The motorcade would arrive at 8:00. At least, that was if the information was up to snuff.
He waited.
And he waited.
Snow began to fall at 7:58. A storm was rolling in.
"Shit..."
Visibility dropped until the house wasn't anything but a blur in the distance.
7:59.
The wind kicked up in his face, the chill stinging exposed skin. He inspected his scope again, wiping the condensation from his breath off the lenses so that it wouldn't freeze.
Another glance at his watch. Still 7:59.
The gales lessened as the sun rose higher and the heat warmed the ground. He could see the road clearly, but anywhere beyond that was an uncertain shot.
There it is... The motorcade emerged from the south to his left. An intercom system within the residence blared, notifying everyone on site of their arrival.
The Imperial Guards scurried around in front of the residence. Their usual formality was gone.
Something was up.
Marcus glances at his watch and a portrait photograph of Tacitus Devon, emblazing the face in his mind, one final time.
8:00.
He wipes his scope lenses again, slowing his breathing as he stuffed a lump of snow in his mouth to hide his breath.
The motorcade had a single coupe in the middle with two jeeps on either side, flying their decor and sporting mounted machine guns. He didn't want to tangle with those.
The left passenger door opened, and out stepped a man in a neatly cropped suit.
C'mon, show me your face... The man turned back to the security detail behind him.
It wasn't him.
"Shit..."
Another frigid gale kicked up a blast of snow in Marcus' face, blinding him for five eternal seconds. He quickly adjusted his aim towards the front door as the man came back into view at the back of the driveway.
The suited man knocked on the door.
Marcus fixed his duplex on the man's back as snow floated in front of the scope. He could barely see what he was firing at, but he had no other chances. The thought coursed through his mind;
You ready to make history, Marcus? The door opened. Marcus' finger tightened around the trigger.
The Emperor stood right there in the front door, but his visitor obscured a body-shot.
It was either snap for a headshot or wait until he moved.
Marcus had waited long enough.
He had another second or less to adjust his angle in the blinding gale. He makes one final shift to his shot.
His heartbeat was the only thing he could hear. No wind, no cracking of branches against one another. Just the beating, like a drum of war.
Easy... Breathe in...
Breathe out...
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
He fires.
With an earth-rattling boom, the 175-grain .308 bullet streaks over the hillside. The fractions of a second tick by.
C'mon, baby... The Emperor's head snaps back in an exploding cloud of red mist as the round strikes flesh at over 2,500 feet per second.
Marcus lowers the scope from his eye with a smirk on his face. He opens his mouth as if he's about to deliver a one-liner.
"--Oh, forget it."
As chaos ensued down below, he slinked back into the brush, got to his feet, with the rifle in tow, and made his escape. Narvik told him that a car would be waiting at the road three miles east of the residence. He had a ways to go.
With the sun over the mountains and shining down on his face, he slung the rifle over his shoulder, lifted up the scarf around his neck, and pressed on further up the mountain as a blizzard shrouded him in white.
And when the gale passed, he was gone.
Any other info you wish to add (Optional):Could use a little hand with iiWiki, since I'm gonna try to invest in that soon.