Paradise

Official Name: Exotic Island Nation of Utopia

Founded: 1900

Form of Government: Pseudo-anarchy

Head of State: None

Population Level: Very low

Society Structure: Urban (port)

Technological Level: Average

Background: A mountainous island off the eastern coast of the Canabraid Peninsula. Naturally uninhabited.

Founding: For as long Ereth's northwest-most land mass has been inhabited, the large rocky island off its eastern coast was considered little more than a clumsy eyesore disturbing the horizon. Sheer or nearly sheer cliffs rose from the sea several hundred feet; though curious sailors sometimes explored the perimeter and noticed what might have been plateaus, there is no notable exploration of the island itself in recorded history before the late 19th century.

After the Melt, with the seas rising over the cliffs and allowing access to the slopes of lesser gradient, the islands secrets were laid bare to those interested. What they found, by and large, was nothing- no recorded species larger than insects, no apparent plant life, no vast stores of mineral wealth. The southeastern plateau where ships dropped anchor was the only land of value, and that solely due to its placement midway between the western nations and eastern countries such as Scandia, Fredericia, and the Four Baronies.

But given the rarity of stop-off points for ships on cross-ocean travel, some unknown investor sank enough money into the area to build a basic infrastructure. Buildings for shops and shelter were erected, plumbing installed, and a radio tower set atop an outlook several stories above the plateau. The first entrepreneur to settle in started a bar; the second, a brothel. Over the course of the Great War era, these two businesses boomed so thoroughly that a general store was built, followed by a substantial increase in bars and brothels, as well as inns for those too drunk to report back to their ships. Frequently two or all three of these businesses inhabited the same building.

Several years into the island's settlement, wealth was plentiful, with the downside being the violence inherent in an unsupervised, "happy time" port of call for soldiers and sailors of rival nations. When businesses failed, it was nearly always due to being unable to afford sufficient security. The most successful owners were those who had built a reputation for strong security amongst their clientele and workers, which gave them a marked advantage over newcomers. Still, the cost of bodyguards was never low, and there remained a slim but plausible chance that some wealthy baron would sink enough money into the island to run them all out of town.

Thus, as the wars drew to a close, the three most powerful business owners joined forces to elect a mayor. He would be little more than a figurehead carrying out their orders, but he would have real power in terms of pulling together a single security force for the island and establishing it as a legitimate government on the international stage. In 1900, a moderately wealthy Bayronite named Matthew Branson was convinced to take on the steady position of mayor rather than risk his capital in competition with the established interests. He announced the official founding of the Exotic Island Nation of Utopia, which had already been referred to (somewhat facetiously) as Paradise, and the beginning of unified government for the land.

Three months later, Branson was dead from fourteen shivs planted neck to kneecap. The business owners appointed a temporary sheriff to investigate, who summarily ruled it a suicide.

That was the end of mayors in Paradise.

Pre-Melt: N/A

Melt: N/A

Great War: N/A

Post-War to Present: Some wondered what effect the end of the wars would have on Paradise, but the answer has effectively been none. The causes of the ships sailing into port may be different- merchants rather than armies- but the sailors are the same, and rivalries instilled by Ereth's laissez-faire economic model still require a substantial security investment by all of Paradise's entrepreneurs.

What has changed is part of the landscape. Some wealthy investor- maybe the same as the original; neither is known for certain- sank significant money into clearing some of the lowest slopes and constructing a water-based landing strip for planes. This has allowed more cross-ocean air traffic in the north, serving those steamplanes that require some sort of refueling station for a journey of such distance. The cleared land supports a number of hangars that provide services in much the same way as stables in the days of horse travel. Pilots who stay the night pay well for washing, refueling, or simply better odds that their planes will still be there in the morning.

Still, although business remains strong and steady overall, it is hard to see the long-term survival of Paradise. Already it is becoming an anachronism, a place where people increasingly drop anchor (if only metaphorically) because they are used to the idea of a no-rules, mid-ocean relaxation spot, rather than actually needing to stop for necessities partway through their journeys. Unless its entrepreneurs can discover a unique service to offer, eventually the clientele will tire of risking a knife in the back for the booze and women (or, occasionally, men) they can find at most better-run ports of call.