# The Untarnished Good of Elysium (PoCo) _"Elysium — the most relaxed, restful plane in all the multiverse. Here, sods don't care about a cutter's race, faction, hair color, or choice of associates — that is, as long as she ain't evil or lookin' fer trouble. 'Cause, ya see, Elysium is only concerned with the good. Neither law nor anarchy matters, just good._ _Get me somethin' to soak my bone-box, eh?_ _And don't think these bloods lack the talent to back up what they spout. Ever met a guardinal? They're the natives of the place, an' as such, they personify the plane. Guardinals're perfectly content to live their lives alone or in small bands (don't ever call their groups "herds"; just a friendly warning, berk), until some great evil or threat crops up (and don't they always?). Then they organize and operate with military precision to whack the threat. Just leave the bottle, eh?_ _"I've always kinda wondered why the guardinals haven't done nothin' about that Blood War on the Lower Planes. No, I ain't bloomin' asked 'em! What, do I look barmy? Here, fill 'er up again._ _"Anyway, I 'spose the War's too far from home for 'em or some such. There ain't many guardinals; fer sure not as many as baatezu or tanar'ri. But then, any guardinal's worth three of either. (Don't tell nobody outside of this tavern I said that, got it?) Mebbe it'd take 'em all to put an end to it, and they don't want to leave their home unprotected._ _"What? Oh yeah, Elysium. She's a land of fertile, rich, natural beauty. Not as wild as the Beastlands, nor as industrious as Bytopia. Ain't no animal gonna come lookin' to make a meal of a body, nor is a cutter gonna get rousted for not doin' his share of grunt work. A body can do whatever most suits him, her, or it. Some bashers live out in the middle of nature, as there's more'n enough for a body to live on. Others prefer the life of a burg — Release From Care, fer instance. As long as a berk ain't doin' no body no harm, she gets left to herself. I'm down to the dregs here, eh?_ _"That dimensionally deep river, Oceanus, starts out its meanderin' on Elysium. Wadin' its way through all four layers of the plane, it then moves to the Beastlands, an' ends up in Arborea afore it disappears. The rest of the place is hills, meadows, marshes, an' mountains, dependin' on where a body wanders. That big tree, Yggdrasil, grows through Elysium too. A chant says there's some race livin' in its branches, the ratatosk. Me, I don't know 'bout them; I'm, ahh, not good with trees. Just thinkin' about heights and climbin' makes my throat all dry. This bottle's a deader, berk._ _"Finally, there's a lot of powers around the place. A cutter can't spit without splashin' a proxy or petitioner. They get along pretty well, and considerin' the place they choose to make their home a blood don't need to marvel why. That faction, the Ciphers, they call Elysium home too. They're no more organized than the guardinals, but most live together in communities._ _"So that's the chant on Elysium, berk. Remember, if a body behaves, there's nary a better place to put up one's hooves."_