(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

Whoa.
Dak’kon was right. This construct must be built on the plane of Limbo.
Before us was a void, black and swirling, slowly eroding the world like waves
on the shore of chaos. Wires drifted back and forth in the cold no-wind of
the void like kelp. Gears stood silent, so thick with variegated green-white
incrustation that they were as dead as clockwork could be. Twisted metal
and dead-end rails edged the room, crumbling ever so slowly as chaos
lapped away and nibbled the edges into oblivion.
Already Fall-From-Grace was laying her hands on Dak'kon, mending his
wounds with empathy and prayer. He had taken a shrapnel wound to his
side, Annah had some bruises and cuts. Morte himself was indented along
his temporal bone where he took a nasty hammer blow from one of the
drones.
Even Ignus wasn't looking too great. A construct had closed into melee with
him, and had struck true several times before it was melted into slag.
Though none of our wounds were serious, they were slowing us down.
Only one modron was here, probing at the walls, examining the damage
with a multi-faceted lens that dangled over one eye like a scope. In the place
of wings it had two arms, four in all. Two crossbows were cradled in its
hands. Despite its mechanical appearance, the front of the cube was a
strange, organic green face, with two wide, elliptical eyes. The cube didn't
seem to notice me initially; it was too intent on his task.
"Uh... greetings...?"
The cube chrrruped, and there was a klik-klik-klik as its eyes blinked wildly.
The cube whirled to face me, its eyes wide, then flung its two free hands up
in the air, as if in surrender... yet its two crossbows had turned in its hands
and were trained on my chest. In a strange, detached way, I couldn't help
but notice that every joint on this creature seemed to be a series of
whrrrring gears and cogs.
"Chief, we're looking at trouble here - this modron's gone rogue," Morte
whispered in my ear.
"Rogue?"
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