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Mota by Samantha-Wright Mota by Samantha-Wright
The Altsithení Manazekíe was a piece of legislation that authorized the creation of a new ruling council in the Stíení Mitraje that would act as a filter to its popularly elected government. This government was elected through similar means, but the subject pool was restricted to those candidates who had undergone sufficient training in the sciences of politics and government, ensuring that they would be best fit to rule.

Over the course of the first 237 cycles of its existence, members of the Altsithení Starje gradually replaced the Stíení Mitraje ruling council, until there were finally enough of them to ask the people to put it to a referendum. This led to the final transformation of the Stíení Mitraje from a populist democracy to a consensus aristocracy, similar to the Lenení Mitraje from thousands of years earlier. Gradually, the requirements on induction into the ruling council became so high as to ensure that only a direct blood heir could possibly claim the necessary authority—and over time, those who could replace the council members became scarce. By 6850 TGC, the government was so feeble that it could no longer enforce its laws or maintain its social programmes.

During this nation's reign, the use of magic became regulated and many ancient landmarks were rebuilt, including the Telaian metropolis Kunanoten, long known as simply "Noten", and finally renamed "Mota" after the Lilitic principle of aestheticism. Like the Iron Dynasty, however, it was poorly suited to military priorities, especially at the end of its life, and so the Shúthimení Mitraje was founded in response.

Towering high around you are the slowly-decaying carcasses of buildings; the echoes of a city now long past its glory days. The architecture would be stunning in any light, but now it feels tired and worn, burdened with a hundred years of soot and rain. Still, people bustle hurriedly about the place, scurrying from one apartment building to the next—or perhaps more commonly, one club to the next. There is no research here, nor great commerce: only vice, hedonism, and the ruins of centuries past, when great science and engineering like the Plasma Tunnel, a hulking torus of tarnished silver that once supported the bluish-purple glow of a transdimensional gate, was commonplace.

But that era is no more. Instead your eyes are greeted by the neon signs of many clubs and other establishments, discriminating in favour of (and against) all manners of patrons. No doubt you will find one that fits your mood—failing that, the Plasma Tunnel is always operational.

The industrial mash which composed Mota was so dense that it was almost trivial to stumble upon the strange and surprising. That this club had at one time been an astronomy complex was nigh-impossible to discern from the street, or even on its main floor. The slight churning of the stomach was the norm when entering the lair of its owner. The observatory dome reminded many of the gutted carcass of some great animal; the oxidized girders slumped like great bones and the split bundled of cables recalled dried sinews. In the center of clutter, the shadow of the great telescope rested, a still heart for the lifeless corpse, the hydraulics frozen by the dullness of time and the mechanisms hopelessly entangled by wires. But the evidence of life that had sprouted in the place of cold industry, like a sprawling moss, was equally curious.

The telescope's main reflector tube had been hollowed out by the removal of the detector assembly. A chain ladder had been attached to allow one entry from the ground. From there, a gentle slope led to the highly polished mirror and a makeshift bed. Truth be told, it was far more a pile of jazz-coloured blankets and pillows that any sort of formal sleeping surface. Beyond the curious choice of slumbering arrangements was an odd collection of trinkets and stack after stack of unfamiliar volumes. Each seemed to fall into one of two distinct categories: impossibly ancient vellum manuscripts and hauntingly futuristic cubes printed on not paper but holographic plastic. The former were a mixed of magical treatises and bestiaries which catalogued all sorts of alien creatures, some far stranger than the owner. The latter collection was mostly a mixture of scientific and philosophical highbrow.

The trinkets were less predictable and seemed to occupy every free surface that wasn't flooded in texts. Elaborately decorated masks, Art Deco chess sets and stage magic ephemera peppered the many bookshelves, display cases and table tops. Interrupting them was the odd piece of scientific equipment or rare artefact. For such a large space, the flood of material noise still managed to make it initially feel cramped. That is, until one gazed upwards. The darkened metal rafters were adorned with LED lights, so that when there was no external illumination, the whole space seems to swim in a sea of stars. Someone had obviously not taken the owner's glow in the dark stickers away soon enough.


More here. Not my proudest piece; I'll redo it some day. The text says "Dúmelía il Kunanoten," i.e., "City of Mota."
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:iconloismustdie555:
loismustdie555 Featured By Owner Apr 29, 2012
And also; the knowledge you contain (whether it be real or not) is...... sexy :)
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:iconsamantha-wright:
Samantha-Wright Featured By Owner Apr 29, 2012  Hobbyist Interface Designer
I have lots of real knowledge, too, I swear!
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:iconloismustdie555:
loismustdie555 Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2012
That's even better! :D
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:iconloismustdie555:
loismustdie555 Featured By Owner Apr 29, 2012
I just have to know; Is any of that description real? Because it was damn convincing (and cool).
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:iconsamantha-wright:
Samantha-Wright Featured By Owner Apr 29, 2012  Hobbyist Interface Designer
The Stíení Mitraje and all of Thet is entirely fictional, I'm afraid. :) But the goal is to make it as rich and plausible as possible. Thanks.
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:iconkyberhai:
kyberhai Featured By Owner Mar 27, 2012  Hobbyist Photographer
Kept my own bedroom constellations for a great many years =p
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