by Max Barry

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Grecia RMB

WA Delegate: None.

Founder: The State of Cream Sauce

Last WA Update:

Board Activity History Admin Rank

Largest Trout Fishing Sector: 1,896th
World Factbook Entry

- Secession & independence from The Five Orders declared on 10 December 2015

- Freed from Alerian conquest on 24 June 2016

Grecia is a region of independent nations that accepts nations of all beliefs and ideologies! Don't fit in anywhere else? You will here!

Ask about our groupme!

Regional to do list:

    A constitution OR articles of confederation OR a series of treaties?

    Improve the Grecian League Charter

    Finish the new map

  1. 7

    The Grecian League

    MetaReference by Cream Sauce . 239 reads.

  2. 6

    Regional Map

    MetaReference by Cream Sauce . 349 reads.

  3. 14

    Grecian Newspaper

    AccountDrama by Cream Sauce . 174 reads.

  4. 3

    Greclerian Essay Forum

    MetaReference by Cream Sauce . 20 reads.

  5. 5

    Regional Awards/Honors

    MetaReference by Cream Sauce . 63 reads.

▼ 2 More

Embassies: The Bar on the corner of every region, Republican Army, KAISERREICH, The Embassy, The Illuminati, Yarnia, Nintendo, Winterfell, Pokemon World, The Glorious Nations of Iwaku, Avadam Inn, The World of Remnant, Bear Country, Lardyland, Ebenezer, and Barbaria.

Tags: Anti-World Assembly, Map, Minuscule, Role Player, Silly, and Video Game.

Grecia is home to a single nation.

Today's World Census Report

The Highest Economic Output in Grecia

World Census bean-counters crunched the numbers to calculate national Gross Domestic Product. Older nations, with higher populations, were noted to have a distinct advantage.

As a region, Grecia is ranked 16,335th in the world for Highest Economic Output.

NationWA CategoryMotto
1.The Kingdom of Notre SagesseeFather Knows Best State“Sola Fide”

Regional Happenings


Grecia Regional Message Board

The 2nd, 10th and 12th Yuktibonian fleets have cut hard away from Porpoise Isle and are now on a direct intercept course with the Northern CSC fleet. All three fleets are preparing to meet the Cream Sauce fleet in the open sea.

Yuktibonia wrote:The 2nd, 10th and 12th Yuktibonian fleets have cut hard away from Porpoise Isle and are now on a direct intercept course with the Northern CSC fleet. All three fleets are preparing to meet the Cream Sauce fleet in the open sea.

The northern fleet has begun to begin to reverse course back towards the coast where it will merge with the eastern fleet that has been paralleling the Yuktibonian fleetís course.

2100 hours
The Capitol, Folenfeld
Adams St.

Between monstrous skyscrapers and mega-towers, a shifty open bazaar had been constructed along a sister street to the main boulevard. Dozens of stalls and farmer's markets flanked the rain-wet pavement of the road, traffic blasting by at ridiculous speed. A man in a long wool coat made his way through the shopping crowds. He would draw stares from some and salutes from others. A vendor offered a bowl to the man, a pile of dark red apples rolling around in the kiln fired bottom. The man selected one, nodded and smiled a 'thank you' before carrying on his way. Four giants in bulky suits followed in his wake. It had been a day since he had received the news of war in Grecia. The thought left him sour, unlike the apple which he gnawed at with appreciation. A car was waiting for him up ahead, the door ajar, a military man sitting in the back seat. A tall, slender woman held the door as he sat next to the soldier. The giants occupied various other seats. With a finger wag, the car set off, merging into the blur of traffic.

"Aegis has engaged enemy assets. Wolf and Taube are still underway. I talked with Admiral Jorgen just now. He reports the loss of a cruiser and two corvettes. However, the CSC forces are withdrawing. It's assumed so that they can regroup with ships sighted along their southern coast. Apart from that, operations are unfolding as anticipated. It's understandable that we would be suffering far more casualties due to the abrupt nature of the conflict but, so far, losses have been sustainable. There's already talk about war heroes. A Captain Hollander if I remember correctly. Used his own vessel to shield and rescue the crew of a foundered Yuktibonian ship." The general paused for acknowledgement.

The Emperor had forgotten about his apple, placing it in the cup holder between them instead of consuming its now browned flesh.

"Excellent news. I wonder if we could have avoided these measures however. The damned Pact." The car came to a stop outside of a large, grey municipal building. They exited and as they made their way up the steps, the Emperor paused.

"McNamera. These events... they're going to become problems if they hang around for too long. I am not keen on prolonging this. Make it quick, fluid. I want to see a notice of capitulation before anyone else gets dragged into this... mess. You have a blank check, General. Fill some bags." With that, the general saluted and turned to carry out his orders. As he left the Emperor on the steps, the eternal rain of Folenfeld started up again. First, as a few droplets, before a torrential downpour. As if to signal things to come.

Yuktibonian Naval Patrol, Sabre Rattling Sea North East of the Cream Sauce Coastline, Command Deck of the Y.R.S. Gryphus.

A dim blue glow filled the otherwise darkened deck. Computer fans whirred and the sound of various keystrokes being logged, however slight, prevented the silence from overtaking the men and women of the Gryphus on the spot. The slightly aged Destroyer class vessel cut through the darkened sea like a ghost, running dark and as silent as possible. The Gryphus had originally been intended as a basic carrier group escort ship but since the beginning of the war, it had doubled as a sort of stealth reconnaissance runner. Every 3 to 4 days they would be dispatched to make a dark run up beyond the main Coalition fleet position, scouting for any new Rusted Front patrol routes. So far they had run 6 night missions this way and 6 times they came back with nothing, not so much as an out of place shipping barge to report.

Suddenly, an alert flashed across the screens on the Command Deck. "Proximity Alert, unknown vessel detected up ahead. It appears we're on an intercept course captain." reported Lieutenant Ophan in a steady but charged voice.

Captain Tarrin, a hardened veteran of the Yuktibonian Navy and one of the first female Captains ever given her own command stood from her seat and looked at the displays in front of her. One ship, likely a frigate based on size, and almost certainly of Cream Sauce origin based on the apparent configuration. It seemed as though this patrol may not be so boring after all, Tarrin mused. Tonight she would return with a trophy.

"Open a ship wide channel." She paused for a moment and then began to bark orders. "All hands this is your Captain, we are at Red Alert, I repeat we are at Red Alert. All hands to battle stations. Get ready to sink a Saucer." Her words dripped from the ship wide system like ice, sharp and cold. A flurry of activity erupted across the ship as sailors ran for their stations and prepared for battle. As the ship came alive and power surged back to its lights and weapon systems, a claxon began blaring across its decks.

The inital battle ended before it even truly began. The frigate hadn't spotted the Gryphus before it had its main battery trained on them. The Yuktibonian gunners didn't even have time to see the name of the CSC ship before it burst in to flames, a fuel store catching on the first shot. Captain Tarrin was disappointed, she had been hoping for a more sporting show of strength. Before she could even form her next thought an explosion rocked the starboard side of the Gryphus. While they had been focused on the frigate, a Cream Sauce cruiser had slipped through their radar coverage somehow. It would later be determined this was due to a catastrophic failure in the radar system panel aboard the ship. Sabatoge would be suspected but never proven.

The Gryphus had taken a nasty torpedo hit but was still up for a fight. As they oriented the main weapons to fire at the cruiser, a second explosion rocked the ship again, this time from the stern. Another Cream Sauce cruiser. Captain Tarrin knew that they only had one option. She gave the order to focus fire on the first cruiser. They may be doomed she thought, but at least they would take as many of these Rusted Front bastards down with them as they could.

100 hours
Cream Sauce Coastline
IFN Ardent, Folish Cruiser
Command Deck

Captain Hollander stood beside the XO, overlooking various panels showing the formation of their patrol group and radar/sonar contacts. The green images danced about the panels as the Coalition patrol group maneuvered into their sector of responsibility. The group consisted of Folish, Golgothian and Yuktibonian ships. The YRS Gryphus, a Yuktibonian destroyer, suddenly reported contact. Captain Hollander quickly reaffirmed their claim with a quick glance at his radar display. Not even a kilometer away, enemy vessels were closing on their patrol group. However, the Gryphus suddenly engaged. Hollander wasn't sure if their ally had misjudged the enemy or was having a malfunction with their radar. Three enemy cruisers blipped into view as ASMs screamed out of the silos of the Gryphus. Within a matter of seconds, the horizon in the distance was illuminated by a roaring, twinkling flame as CWIS and explosions lit up the night. A Cream Sauce cruiser quickly submerged as icy ocean water glugged into its lower decks giant, raging holes blown into its starboard decks.

There was a moment of hesitation as Hollander witnessed the sinking of the CSC vessel. So far, it was assumed they had the element of surprise. But within a matter of moments, two great explosions rocked the YRS Gryphus. Maybe Hollander was wrong. Maybe they had been detected. The speed of the counterattack suggested the enemy had launched first. Torpedoes tore great wounds along the keel of the Gryphus, threatening to split it in two. Hollander stood, horrified as he watched Yuktibonian sailors scrambling onto the deck in life preservers. Soon, the destroyer began to tilt aft-ward, threatening to go bow up. Hollander knew they had little time. He barked a quick command to a nearby Golgothian ship, the TS Tzar's Crown, ordering them to cover their maneuver. If the enemy was using torpedoes, then the Folish cruiser would sustain the brunt of the attack, hopefully.

"Fire on the second cruiser!" Hollander barked as he moved from his command console to the starboard porthole, watching Yuktibonians jump overboard into the sea.

Seven muffled swishes sounded from the midship of the IFN Ardent as ASMs screamed out of their silos and into the air. The CSC cruisers attempted to deploy CWIS against his attack, but four of the missiles made it through. An explosion bloomed on the command deck of one of the cruisers and wracked the waterline of another. The later enemy vessel began to list aimlessly as it tilted onto its port side, threatening to go under. Hollander quickly pulled his ship alongside the YRS Gryphus, shielding them from further attack. As he feared, the enemy had launched more torpedoes into the water. Two missed, but a third impacted into the bow of the IFN Ardent, flooding the second deck with icy water. Thanks to the actions of a handful of crew members who were near the breach, bulkheads were sealed and flooding was controlled quickly. Hollander continued to launch ASMs at the enemy ships while he divised a strategy to rescue the Yuktibonians. There were four RHIBs on the deck, canvas covered and tied down. He ordered them overboard with a dozen men between them, missiles continuing to scream into the sky. Eventually, the second CSC cruiser was sunk, a dozen or more impacts rendering the armored belt on the port side useless and flooding beyond control. The third, wounded, fired another volley of torpeaoes. This round missed entirely, turning wide as the Golgothian ship moved into position, confusing the sonar guidance. Hollander burst onto the fore-deck and began helping sailors of the Yuktibonian ship aboard as the TS Tzar's Crown swooped in to finish off the last enemy boat. One of the last Yuktibonian crewmembers aboard was the ship's commander, Captain Tarin. She gripped Captain Hollander's gloved fist as he hauled her aboard.

Due to the recent tie in the election for the Head of the Office of Regional Economics, a new run-off election will be held between the two winners of the previous election. Good luck to both Golgothia and Turtle Top Mountain!

0900 hrs
Cream Sauce Coastline
IFN Mule, Folish AWS
Loading Bay

Private Linden waited in line patiently as the other members of his squad marched aboard the Chimera APC that would take them ashore. The cavernous loading bay of the amphibious warfare ship echoed with every sound made within its steel cocoon. Shouts and revving engines and the thunder of squads sprinting to and fro battered Linden's ears. He slunk further into the protective chest plate and helmet he was now very grateful to have been issued. It was soon his turn to mount the steel beast, its scorched exhaust pipes growling at him as he ducked under their foreboding rhythm. The interior was cramped and lined with extensive anti-spalling material, its surface rough on his skin as he moved over cargo and equipment to his shock absorbent seat. A sickly looking NCO mounted the ramp, made a hasty count of passengers with an oddly shaped hand and then pounded on the outer armored plates to get the attention of the vehicle's commander. It took Linden a moment to recognize that the man was four of five fingers short between his hands. The NCO leapt away as the ramp began to close. With a final clank, the vehicle sealed shut and their compartment was plunged into darkness and muffled silence. Sniffs, shuffling uniform fabric and a cough or two were the only things to break the silence. Suddenly, the vehicle lurched. A red light blinked on near the ramp, making Linden wince. Then they were off. The APC hurdled forward, out of the loading bay and down a rolling ramp.

Linden grabbed at an overhead loop desperately as their compartment was violently jostled, the APC now fully submerged into the icy water of the CSC coastline. Moments later, the nose of the vehicle burst onto the surface and they began their slow journey to the distant sand. There were no windows except for a pair of periscopes flanking either side of the APC, specifically for the passengers to use. Linden took advantage of one of these periscopes, sit-standing awkwardly so that he could reach the cracking rubber eyepieces. The scene outside was like something he'd seen on the television back home. The horizon and beachhead were swamped with a think smoke, intermittently illuminated by flashes and huge blooms of flame. The flash of lasrifles stitched hard lines across the sand and the replying tracers zipped overhead. A jet, probably Yuktibonian, Linden thought, screeched over their position, two streaks emitting from its wingtips and striking some unseen target beyond the coastal dunes. The carnage that was launched into the air confirmed a hit. Artillery plunged into the water around them, but it was sporadic and inaccurate. Linden took comfort in this until he watched an APC similar to theirs take a direct hit. The commander was vaporized from the waist up and what was left of the bottom of his vehicle sank quickly. Linden tore his gaze away but it was too late, he was thoroughly rattled.

After some time, their APC lurched onto the sand and the crew compartment exploded into a panic as the crew struggled to engage targets. The commander fired smoke canisters and the gunner flooded the top of the dunes with suppressing fire. Their track lurched again as something struck them at a shallow angle.

"Bounced, I think!" Linden heard someone call out, slightly relieved. "Ok, let's get the dirt crunchers out of here!" The commander replied.

The ramp beeped and the red light turned green. With that, Linden's squad stood and began filing out. Linden, heart racing, stood, gripping his lasrifle like a security blanket, and followed the man in front of him out. The man peeled left and took a knee. Linden was about to kneel behind him when he felt hot liquid splash his legs and saw that the man lad lost his head. Heavy machine gun fire was cutting through their position and the APC made a desperate attempt to suppress the enemy. Linden and the rest of his squad dove for the soft sand and tried to get a low as possible. He didn't know when he had started screaming, but at some point, someone yelled at him to shut up. Sheepish, Linden tried to compose himself, but he couldn't stop thinking about how uncomfortable he was as the blood of a comrade soaked into his uniform and soiled his undergarments.

"Pop smoke and move up!" He heard someone shout. "Pop smoke and move up!" they screamed again. Linden fumbled for a smoke grenade on his vest but eventually freed it from its webbing. With a shaky hand, he ripped the adhesive tab off the top and used the metal edge to activate the fuse. He tossed it as best he could in his awkward prone, but the smoke canister only landed a few yards in front of him.

"Amateur!" he heard the voice say. Then, suddenly, someone got up and sprinted forward. The man grabbed Linden's poorly thrown smoke grenade and tossed it further, before throwing him self down again. The man looked back at Linden, scowling. It was Linden's sergeant, a man named Adams. The sergeant was a known veteran, having fought in the Foledonian Civil War and the Hydros Isle Insurgency. Linden wasn't sure, but he would have bet a year's pay that the sergeant had probably killed over five hundred men. Soon, the smoke screen had fully deployed and the sergeant ordered everyone up and over the dune. Meanwhile, the APC had finally suppressed the enemy machine gun nest and began moving alongside the infantry to support them. They would move fifty yards and then dive down to engage enemy positions. This repeated until a well concealed anti-tank position ambushed their APC. A sand covered bunker made a thunk sound and an ATGM flitted out towards the APC. It struck the armored vehicle in the lower glaces, penetrating into the crew compartment and scorching everyone inside. The upper half of the commander's body launched out of the main hatch and landed a yard from Linden, a pain-stricken look carved into what was left of the man's face.

"Forward!" The sergeant screamed before pushing himself up and storming the nest. Linden, not knowing what he was doing, stood up and followed his squad leader. Together, they made it to the bunker door and posted on either side. The sergeant pulled a can from his vest, popped the top off to reveal a nozzle and sprayed its contents around the frame. The can now empty, he removed a device from its bottom and jammed it into the foamy substance. "Breach!" he yelled before clicking a button on the can. The foam glowed white hot and then exploded, searing the bunker door's frame all the way through. Seargant Adams kicked the door and followed it in as it fell. Linden was close behind. Half a dozen CSC soldiers met their assault. Rifles in hand, they took aim and tried to return fire as Linden and the Sergeant sprayed down the room with withering laser fire. Most of the enemy missed, firing wildly into the walls, smoke choking their vision. Linden didn't see the man he shot, but his scream betrayed his position. Linden continued to spray the remainder of his magazine into that corner of the room, another man screaming soon after. The sergeant meanwhile had already dropped two enemy soldiers. The last two threw down their rifles, hands shooting for the ceiling as the sergeant jammed his lasrifle in their direction.

"Please! Stop! Stop Shoot!" one of them screamed in broken Folish. Linden turned in time to watch Adams execute both of them. When the sergeant turned to leave, Linden cast his eyes downwards. This was war, he supposed.

The remainder of the battle was bitter close quarters fighting. After Linden's wave, heavy infantry were brought ashore to knock out the hardest positions with thermobarics and flame units. Yuktibonian air power then began the arduous task of suppressing reinforcement elements and knocking out tactically important targets such as artillery batteries and strategically important targets like ammo dumps or casualty clearing stations. It wasn't until hours later that Linden got the chance to sit down, at the bottom of a pair of hastily poured concrete bunker stairs and think about the men he'd killed.

1800 hrs
Cream Sauce Inland
Foledonian Attack Group
29th Light Jšgers

Corporal Linden shifted in his seat, the weight of his new stripes uncomfortable on his shirtsleeves. Two dozen men were packed into the flat bed of a commandeered local market semi-trailer. They whooped and hollered with each other, trading pillaged goods and war trophies. The invasion had been an overwhelming success with minimal casualties being taken and a surprising rout from CSC forces. Needless to say, the pict-crews had not been allowed to film the events transpiring between the CSC's rout and the Foledonian advance. Linden tried to distract himself, rummaging around in his pockets for something to eat or chew on. He found a wad of gum he'd been chewing on his last patrol and decided to give it new life. It tasted like gun oil and smog.

Their column was en-route to a city that command had determined as an important crossroads between the various beachheads being set up by the invading forces. New Asheville stood as a grand municipal, surrounded by a swampy landscape. If the city were to fall, it would be unlikely that CSC forces would be able to mount any kind of significant resistance against the growing enemy presence along the coastline. The sun was starting to go down and Linden began to dwell on the fact that they would likely be attacking at night. The sound of a guitar drifted into his grimy ear. Linden's head spun around, looking for the source of the foreign sound. Their convoy was passing through a cross road, the long line of trucks bumping and jostling through the mud and blasting past a tilted sign post. A man in a clean black suit sat in a folding chair at one corner of the crossroads. He strummed and tuned, twisting at the knobs every few passes of his bony hand. The mysterious man looked up for a moment and flashed a toothy smile at Linden, his pencil mustache framing the disturbing gesture for just a moment before the front fender of the following truck whisked the man from view. Suddenly, Linden diddn't feel like chewing his gum. It found a home under the tire of the following truck.

Their column pulled to the sides of the road, fish-boning left and right. Two to three hundred men disembarked from their transports and spread into the neighboring fields which were swampy and wet. After a minute or so, their platoon commander indicated to them that the attack was about to commence. The sound of screeching jet engines sounded from their rear. In what felt like a heartbeat, a dozen Yuktibonian jets soared overhead and dumped several tons of bombs onto the outskirts of New Asheville. Seconds later, the wail of a thousand demons arose from the clouds overhead as hundreds of tons of artillery shells began to rain down into the pulverized buildings and streets of the city. Linden watched in horrified fascination as twenty story apartments and dense, towering office buildings were reduced to a puff and wash of dust and explosive fire in a matter of minutes. Any enemy waiting for an attack in those outer buildings were on their way to Talos.

"Get those puppies moving!" the commanding officer bellowed as their element prepared to advance. A new sound bracketed Linden's ears; the thunder of three hundred heavily laden Foledonian infantrymen. They crossed the field as quickly as the swampy soil allowed until it began to break down. Roughly four-hundred yards short of the first bits of pulverized pavements, the soil gave away to soup and marsh. Linden put his right foot down and it kept going. Waist deep, he called for help. Two men stomped back and hauled him up by his webbing. It was then the enemy decided to open fire. Despite the initial shock-and-awe attack, there were still handfuls of determined enemy pockets prone on contesting their charge. Tracers cut out towards them and stippled the water at the ankles of the Foledonians. CO's and NCO's began yelling and pointing, trying to coordinate fire and movement. After ten minutes of awkward and perilous advance, the 29th had reached solid ground. At this point, the CSC began to withdrawal deeper into the city. This only abated the inevitable however. With the help of Golgothian attack helicopters and Yuktobonian air cover, the Foledonians began toppling building after building, earning ground meter by meter, paying in ordinance and sweat rather than blood.

Fighting continued for hours, elements being split off from the greater force to clear portions of the city and secure it from re-occupation. Linden's element finally reached a small housing block that had overwatch of the opposite swamplands and clear sightlines to the CSC's predicted path of retreat. Linden was about to order his team across the street when four men and a woman burst through the already shattered wooden door and started barking orders. It was the CO and his JTAC team. Linden's spine straightened violently and he suppressed a salute.

"Sir!" he said. The men around him regarded the CO similarly. The CO however waved their reverence aside and ordered them to set up a defense while the JTAC set up their equipment. A Yuktibonian woman, embedded with the Foledonian JTAC, swung a laser designator onto an ill-fitting tripod and began calibrating its various bells and whistles. After a few minutes, she began painting targets.

"Troop truck, retreating, painted," moments later, an ATGM flew down from the clouds and dashed the truck and its occupants to dust.

"Infantry, can't tell status, I think carrying wounded, but they're advancing into a building, painted," a pepper of 35mm fire squashed the squad, their bits and pieces sinking into the distant muck.

"Tanks, two, hidden behind a processing plant, painted," after some time, a bomb struck between the targets and popped their turrets off, the metal hulks twisted and crunched as they arched into the sky, traling blood and flames.

Linden spent the rest of the engagement making coffee on a stolen butane heater and minding the CO who was telling him, and anyone else who would listen, about his stories of the glory days in the academy. Suddenly, Linden wished he still had that gum.

Post self-deleted by Golgothia.

Greetings remaining Grecians

The leadership of Grecia and Aleria have decided to go ahead with the merger of our regions, something that has been talked about for quite some time. It has finally come to fruition.

The new region is named Crassia. If you wish tk continue with us on this years long journey then please feel free to move. The CSC itself will remain in Grecia until it finishes documenting all of Greciaís rmb posts before forcing closure of the region.

When you arrive in Crassia you will notice that Golgothia has announced there will be a lore reset. Feel free to mold your nation however you see fit. The new region is no longer Grecia and Aleria; it is Crassia, and most of the events that happened in Grecia and Aleria will no longer be canon. We believe this will provide everyone with a chance to reset and become more engaged with roleplay.

Thatís all I have to say apart from how honored I am to have been your regional founder for these past several years. I do hope you will join us in Crassia so that we may continue to make many more memes and fun memories in Nationstates.

Head Zealot Nicholas Greco

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