#grigovian

The Glorious Republic of Grigovia is a landlocked nation in Central Asia. Its neighbors are Iran, Turkmenistan, and Afghanistan. Roughly 200 kilometers north-to-south and 160 kilometers east-to-west, the first known reference to Grigovia is in 'The Histories,' by Herodotus. Marshy bogs lie to the south and west of its capital, Grig (population 120 thousand), which sits on an elevated plateau in the southern foothills of the Yiptlong Massif mountain chain. The Yiptlong has significant deposits of iron-ore, coal, and sulfur that have been mined for centuries. West of the capital is Pyltagrad, a culture-rich city of roughly 50 thousand inhabitants. East of the capital is the Great Dune Sea, an arid former lake bed; Gar Nuuzsch, population 60 thousand, is the primary city in the east – its patroness is Nuuzstathena, goddess of war, technology, and guile. Other deities include Ganestrix (an ant-headed goddess of travel and good fortune) and Oumbast (goddess of cats as well as gracefulness in the face of overwhelming odds). The main city in the south is Pryaghdoyest, an export-oriented manufacturing hub, population 75 thousand; north-east of Pryaghdoyest is an arid plateau with significant deposits of rare-earth metals. Tens of thousands of Yaelong tribes-people call this nation home, living scattered about, primarily in the Yiptlong Massif. Known for their fierce independence and fervent defense of the high plateaus, the Yaelong were feared by Alexander the Great as well as subsequent invaders. A parliamentary democracy with strong socialist traditions, the Grigovian royal family abdicated in the early 20th Century in a sign of respect for the nation's growing anarcho-communist movement, which is still strong today. Group workshops and livings spaces known as 'su'uvyiets' provide training and support in a wide variety of crafts, trades, and skills, each 'su'uvyiets' operating under the loose umbrella of its mother organization. Never in its history has Grigovia been fully conquered (it was the only fully autonomous republic of the USSR), largely because of an extensive tunnel system that runs under almost all of Grig. Most of these tunnels are well maintained and still in use as winter shelters, manufacturing areas, and weapons stores. Robotic and autonomous buses serve outlying villages, and the capital features a dense network of public transportation systems – trams, trolleys, and 4 subway lines. Renewable energy powers roughly 60% of electricity needs, and plans call for the nation to receive nearly all of its power from wind and geothermal sources by the year 2030. Modern Grigovia traces its founding to the semi-mythical Krukuv, a former monk who settled there sometime during the 9th Century C.E., digging a series of deep and sturdy tunnels (for to store his beloved tubers) and taking a Yaelong bride as his mate. Popular recreational activities include hiking, cycling, folk festivals, story-telling competitions, martial arts training, and winter sports; camping is permitted on all public and many private lands. Famous for its tendency to warmly receive immigrants fleeing war and economic turmoil, the population of Grigovia has increased by nearly 9 percent in recent years due to the ongoing conflict in Syria. With strong banking houses, a robust services sector, and a variety of cottage industries that make everything from coo-coo clocks to firearms, the Grigovian economy has proven all but immune to international market volatility, being able to quickly retool according to shifting demand while keeping unemployment at well under 3% for a population nearing 400 thousand souls. In the decades since the Rus and Ynki invasions of Afghanistan, trade with Iran has increased tenfold, primarily heavy machinery from Grigovia's well-developed manufacturing sector. An outspoken critic of Ynki involvement in regional conflicts across the globe, the Glorious Republic of Grigovia has repeatedly demanded that the various peoples of the world enjoy the right to determine their own path in life for themselves, free of foreign intervention. For more on all things Grigovia, please visit www.welcomehome.ggv.

We few humble people of the northern Iysh would like to share with you a regional dish. It's composed of goat-flesh and tender cactus that live in the Dune Sea not too far from us. The meat is first simmered three days on a fire of wood that is brought down from regions much higher, from up in the foothills of the Yiptlong steep where grow many forests and perhaps some sheep. We toss in the cactus at the very end, then add to the mixture a strong herbal blend of wheat-grass and parsley and fennel and clover, pull pots from the fire and let them sit, covered. These pots are then buried for nearly ten days, to keep them from rusting we make sure they're glazed, we dig them and lift them with care from the soil whereupon we enjoy the fruits of our toil. The meat is quite tender and bound in a jelly that leaks from the cactus and slicks to the belly, the herbs lend a flavor not sour or sweet that makes the concoction quite nearly complete. Some factions then bake on a sourdough crust but most of us reach for utensils and just dole out the admixture to earthenware plates and eat it until hunger-pangs do abate. If you'd like to try it then now is the time, we've brewed many barrels of sweet honey-wine, to share with our neighbors and all our friends too, leave tonight, act swiftly – we're waiting for you.

There's not much more to it, I daresay I've found, than sticking a bit of wood into the ground, or erecting monoliths, small though they be, or hanging some rolled-up twigs onto a tree. Grigovian goddesses take what they can, knowing that all the best efforts of man do sometimes fall short of the outcomes intended, for they only care that the homefront's defended. The goddesses fancy not churches or pageants, priests droning on and on chasing down tangents, sycophants, hangers-on, gem-stones or gold, groups of new converts or ones getting old. All our fair maidens, the Goddesses Ten, who shelter the lowly and brighten our ken, are simple to pray to and easy to please, preferring us standing to down on our knees. It is hard to battle and drive away foes, when wearing too fancy or delicate clothes, so leave off with fashion and don something that you don't care gets torn, ripped, or covered with scat. To please them be watchful, and ready to act, against us the odds will most surely be stacked, so open those peepers and keep your hand steady while praising their greatness, always at the ready.

Grigovian goddesses, everywhere, in meadows and treetops and under the stairs, so many that even the priests can't keep track, fair beauties who make up for what humans lack. They simply keep coming, and showing up new, which leaves us poor mortals but one thing to do: accept them and puzzle out some of their ways, then set aside for them their own holidays, then keep up with sacrifice, prayers, and chants, while wearing our jackets and cravats and pants. We preen and we dress up, we wear well-made threads, lest goat tractor sibling should one day fall dead, struck down by a goddess, her confidence flawed, whom we'd never worshiped, who'd not left us awed. We labor to please them, we do all we can, we hang fragrant garlands and strike up the band, we hope though that one day there may be enough, that we might get back to our business and stuff. We love them regardless, we're glad that they're here, the new ones and those that have blessed us for years, we'll lift to the heavens vociferous praise, until our last moments, the end of our days.