Acheron

Acheron is a plane where conflict is structured into permanence. War does not erupt here out of chaos. It is maintained by discipline. It is shaped by rules. The plane exists as a statement that order can exist without peace. Every act of violence here is justified by logic. Every battle is part of a plan. The result is not madness. It is efficiency without conscience.   The terrain is formed of massive floating cubes. Each one is the size of a continent. They drift through the void and sometimes collide with others. These impacts are violent and loud but are not seen as disasters. They are simply another part of the rhythm of the plane. The cubes rotate slowly. Gravity holds to the surface of each face. There is no sky. Only the sight of other drifting cubes filled with soldiers, siege engines, and flags.   Each cube serves as a domain of war. Some hold ruined cities. Some are endless barracks. Others are empty but carry the scars of forgotten battles. Factions rise and fall here, but few ever leave. Most exist to fight and fight again. There is no final victory. There is only continued purpose through battle. Ideologies often fade over time, leaving only systems of command and engagement. What began as belief becomes routine.   The beings that dwell in Acheron are made for war. These include construct-like intelligences, disciplined outsiders, and mortal spirits who lived and died by command. They do not seek freedom. They seek direction. Many are trapped by the logic of their own values. The plane rewards structure. It resists emotion. It does not destroy the weak immediately. It simply waits for them to be corrected or replaced.   Magic functions without distortion here. Spells that influence control, order, and law are clear and strong. Illusion and emotion-driven effects feel thin. Chaos magic does not fail, but it loses force. Spells that affect terrain remain in place until dismissed. Even summoned creatures follow command more rigidly. The plane does not suppress magic. It shapes how it is used. Over time, casters begin to think more like tacticians and less like artists.   Acheron is not defined by cruelty. It is not defined by justice. It is a machine made from obedience, ranks, and belief in the chain of command. There are no gods visible here. No afterlives of peace. Just an endless rehearsal of the same task done in new ways. Not because it is enjoyable. But because it is assigned. Purpose matters more than outcome. Survival is less important than fulfilling the objective. That is the law of Acheron.