Regulus

Divine Realm
Plane:	Mechanus
Layer:	Mechanus
Powers:	Primus

There is no "I," there is only "we." There is no "me," there is only "us." There is no such thing as individuality, and if there were, it'd be stamped out.

The realm of Regulus is as orderly as clockwork and as coolly logical as can be. This is the realm that dominates Mechanus, the largest of any found on the plane. Regulus is a place devoted to the absolutes of law, and therefore has few of the extremes found in other planes. Extremes can be encouraged only when they serve as examples of the parameters of the law.

Regulus has 64 sectors. Each sector occupies a single cog, making this the largest realm in all of Mechanus. Each sector's governed by an octon, who makes the important decisions regarding that cog if not specifically ordered to do otherwise. Four sectors make up a region, each of which is overseen by one of 16 quartons. Four regions make up a quarter, which is ruled over by one of the four secundi. Primus, Supreme Controller of the Entire Modron Race, rules over it all.

The 64 cogs of Regulus seem to be stacked in a pyramid, if viewed from the side. A huge rod, nearly as thick around as the spire in the Outlands, runs through the center of thee gears and is apparently the agent by which they turn (if they don't turn it instead).

There's all manner of halls, courts, and buildings arranged on the 64 gears. Most of it's devoted to the maintaining of proper records. Some of it's courthouses for those who've broken the law in Mechanus, and some of it's bureaus where a traveller can get permits to make the illegal legal.

A body'll find no separate towns in Regulus. It's like one great, giant city, spread out over a region that'll make the city of Dis in Baator seem tiny. Every building of a certain nature is built exactly the same: All the bureau are the same as each other, all the record houses for one subject are the same. This makes them easily recognizable, as long as a body's familiar with which sort of building is which.

There's no particular people or group a body ought to look for; there's no individuality among the modrons to mark them. The most common modron type folks are likely to run into is the quadrone, which work in a basic bureaucratic position. To speak to one of a higher rank, a body's got to petition a quadrone, which'll get in touch with its superiors, and all the way up the line until there's an approval for a berk to meet one of the high-ups. Then a body's got to go through the whole process again. Regulus ain't a place for those in a hurry.

Guides hover around outside Regulus, anxious to steer people through the realm. Each of 'em's bonded and licensed - only an addle-cove would try to bob someone this close to the central seat of law in the multiverse. They know the city, and they've each got specializations. Most of them've got licenses that permit them to talk to high-ups, getting their companions around the interminable bureaucracy of the lower levels.

Sites and Cities

Hidden deep in the heart of Regulus, there stands a tower that's apparently in defiance of all the laws around it. It seems too slender for its height, and it reaches far, far into the sky. But inside, it's a vat place, far vaster (wider, taller, deeper) than the outside would indicate, with it's vaulted ceiling disappearing into the darkness. There's something in there that the modrons've been working on for years, and to look upon it is to go mad. It's said Primus uses this place to keep track of the goins-on across the infinite planes, and that's why it's sent modrons to go everywhere - if Primus sees something it wants changed, it sends modrons out to rectify it.