Llego a Artrópolis como se llega siempre a los mejores sitios, de forma rocambolesca y sin sentido aparente. De un post en Paratge salto a Tonic y de ahí al estudio de su dueño: Static Schultz

Éste es parte de su trabajo, y su estudio:

Saliendo de ahí me doy de bruces con un lugar fascinante, definido como una colonia de artistas dedicada a promover todas las artes. Conducido por Filthy Fluno, el sim entero es un paraiso en el que se han establecido los estudios y las galerías de 15 artistas. Elegido por Secondstyle como uno de los mejores lugares tropicales de SL, traer imágenes de todo lo que he visto ahí sería una locura, así que me limito a subir planos generales del sim. Ni lo uno ni lo otro tienen desperdicio.

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The Artropolitans existed in peace and tranquility for well over two thousand years. Though there is evidence that they inhabited the land of Artropolis for nearly twice that amount of time (with archeological discoveries dating back to nearly 2000 B.C.) it is generally agreed that they came into their own as a society in the year 15 B.C.

It was that year that the people of the two-sim nation united under the leadership of
one man, Dabin, whom they called “Toreph” (meaning “leader”, though the word literally translates as “top” or “head”). It was he who was largely responsible for organizing the industry and religion of Artropolis. This, in turn, birthed a viable forum that allowed the people’s natural artistic abilities to flourish and gain renown throughout the known world. Thus, Artropolis.

Also credited to Dabin are several feats that can only be described as supernatural. He spent much time in meditation and solitude atop the land’s highest peak: Noy Etries, “the hill”. According to myth, it was on one such occasion that Dabin was caught in a sudden electrical storm that focused around the summit of Noy Etries, while the rest of the land was engulfed in darkness. Dabin was seen from afar to be struck with a “beam” of lightning which suspended his body above the ground without destroying it. When it was done, Dabin decended Noy Etries and was attended by his physicians for two days, seeing no one else. A day later he emerged his home to find a sea of people who hailed him a hero. He said nothing of his experience, but he decreed Noy Etries’ summit sacred as well as the river bordering to the north and east. No one was permitted to enter these places. He was officially given the title Toreph, and he ruled the land uncontested from that day. Thus marked the reconning of time for the Artropolitans, with all recorded dates looking back to “Dabin’s Day.”

From the day Dabin returned from Noy Etries he lived 139 years.

When Dabin died at the age of 180, skilled artisans from the line of Syaka began crafting a monument in his honor. Dabin’s third son Tor’Dab assumed the title of Toreth; so began the long reign of Dabin’s line. All of the line of Dabin inherited the trait of unnaturally long life.

In the centuries that followed, much of the lifestyle and culture of Artropolis remained the same. Yet – in contrast to the steady, methodical society – the work of Artropolis’ artists grew in complexity and beauty. Traders from the outside world grew more and more attracted to tales they heard of “finery beyond imagine”, and by Dabin’s third generation, streets and waterways were teeming with foreigners seeking Artropolitan goods.

Tranquility, however, was not meant to last, it seems. The seventh Toreph, Dabin II, claimed the kingdom at the age of 53, and ruled well some ten years. T’was the blessing of long life that led to the darkening of his countenance, for he watched his beloved wife succomb to old age, finally dying when she was 71 years of age. Dabin II, being only 63 and counting only some third of his years spent. He could find no companion pleasing to him in the few years that followed; it was said that his heart died with his wife. So it was that he decided to tempt the summit of Noy Etries as his great ancestor once had. With much ceremony and fanfare, Dabin II journeyed to the top of the great peak. No supernatural lights or storms accompanied his sojourn; all historical records indicate nothing out of the ordinary. Dabin the Second was simply never seen again. Dabin II hadn’t sons or daughters, and thus ended the great line of Dabin.

The successor Toreph was taken up well enough by the people of Artropolis, but the nation, it seemed, had lost somewhat of its gleam. Eager to prove himself and gain acclaim, the new Toreph (often referred to as the Lesser Toreph in hushed tones) invited a delegation of 50 artisans from the neighboring country of Fortuun to come live on Artropolis. His hope was that the delegates would glean from Artropolitan society and culture, and then share their new knowledge and insight with their own people. He gave them lodgings on the western-most boundaries of the land and gave them free passage to roam the country and interact with the people.

Little did the Lesser Toreph realize that he’d begun the painting of the decline of Artropolis, which they referred to as The Sundering. It would take the the passage of two more Torephs before the effects could clearly be seen, but it did eventually become obvious that the plan of the first Lesser Toreph had backfired. By 1284 it was clear that the Fortuunese had injected their ideas and culture into the minds of the western Artropolitans. Art gave way to industry and ventures into technology; easles and kilns were neglected, lush foliage was destroyed in favor of more modern structures.

And the heart of Artropolis was rent.

In 1289 the people of eastern Artropolis sought to save their old ways of life, and sent word to the west: The west was considered lost; any Artropolitan citizen who wished could join the east and preserve life as it had been known. Only a handful of Artropolitans accepted the invitation. Artropolis decreased in size by half.

During the next 30 years the population of Artropolis dwindled due to new sicknesses and loss of resources. By 1321, few remained in Artropolis proper. All formal contact was lost or abandoned within two years, and much of the once pristine city was left to decay.

For the next six hundred years, parctically nothing was heard from Artropolis. Most believed that the land grown wild and dangerous. And yet every now and then a piece of artistic brilliance would show up on display in some throne room or other. Artropolis lived, though it was shrouded in mystery – its inhabitants near spectres.

Yet, for all its vulnerability, Artropolis remained untouched by foreign powers. Even the rising City of Fortune kept from breaching the borders of the once mighty land. Whether a contrivance of fate, or merely coincidence, who can say? Reguardless of the cause, the door has been left open…and maybe, maybe the land of Artropolis will one day thrive again.



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