Arcadia

Outer Plane
Layers:	Abellio Buxenus
Primary Faction:	Harmonium
Sect:	None

Arcadia's a plane of rolling fields and gently-sloped valleys, where well-ordered orchards produce fruit of the perfect size and texture. Everything here works toward the common good, a flawless form of existence. In the Land of Perfect Good, nothing intrudes on the harmony - at least, it better not, or it's going to get scragged.

There's nothing native to the plane that doesn't contribute to making this a place of perfection and peace. The fields and forests all bear as much fruit and grain as possible, existing in perfect rows of tree and stem. There's no trees in the fields, and there's no grain in the forests; everything sits within its own purview in neat rows, and never intrudes on the domains of the others. Even the "wild" flowers're separated by color, and always grow the same height as the neighbouring grasses of the plains around. The trees are straight and tall, with bends or twists coming at lengths that just seem predetermined.

The beasts of the forests and fields don't usually seem all that interested in attacking a berk, preferring to let travellers alone. However, there's times when a cutter upsets something in the strictly regimented order, and this brings the flora and fauna down on his head. The dark of it is that the creatures are as attuned to the Arcadian order of things as the trees and the grass, and they just don't like to see sods messing with a pattern that's best left alone.

It's said (mostly by the inhabitants of the plane) that everything in Arcadia is as perfect as it can be, neither as strictly regimented as Mechanus nor ans devoted to the perfection of the individual as Mount Celestia. Well, that ain't entirely true. There's a dark underside to the plane that the inhabitants are blind to, mostly because they're a part of it. They're so convinced of their own rightness that they can't see their flaws, and this has proven a problem for them time and time again.

In short, the plane itself is as perfect as it's going to be, if a cutter likes everything neatly ordered and in its place. It's the people who're the problem.

If a body's lawful and good, there's very little for her to worry about when she goes to Arcadia. She can wander the fields and forests, admiring their perfection, their safety, and their other idyllic qualities. This is a place where order permeates everything, including nature. Everything is devoted to the common good, and everything seems to work toward a common goal. The animals are all larger than on most prime worlds, and all provide more to those who harvest them. Forget nature here; everything works in an obvious, predetermined order to grant the greatest good for the greatest number.

Anyone of chaotic or evil persuasion might want to think twice before coming to Arcadia. The people, devoted to seeking the greater good for the greatest number, tend to be more than just a little fanatic in their pursuit of happiness and rightness. They don't take kindly to souls coming here who don't share their views, and they express this feeling forcefully.

Arcadia's criss-crossed with roads. There's a road network that leads from every important site to every other important site. It's even said that if a body knows the right bath key (a series of words or a particular phrase), she can step on the road and have it carry her almost immediately to her destination. The words are kept dark, except for the high-ups in Arcadia, but a body can bet that there's people willing to pay a lot of jink for those keys.

Now, one of the side effects of having all these reads all over the plane is that it means people've got to use them. Unless a body's got business tramping about in the fields or woods (such as farming or harvesting), he's likely not to be from around here. And if he's not from around here, he's got to be stopped and questioned - extensively, since law-abiding folk all use the roads, and anyone who doesn't must have a certain contempt for the law. The militia patrols therefore question nearly anyone they see who's off the road and in the wilderness of Arcadia - even farmers. Who knows? It could be a spy dressed in farmer's clothing.

The chant's that there's three layers to Arcadia, but most people don't get past the first. The einheriar - the petitioner protectors - of the plane like to make sure chaotic and evil berks don't make it any farther. Of course, this makes everyone all the more curious about what they're hiding, and thus increases the security the einheriar have to devote to patrolling the plane.