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

"So, what are your plans now?"
He shrugged. "I intend to openly march on the engineering room and claim
it. I will then bend the modrons to my will and have the full resources of the
cube at my disposal. Freedom shall be mine."
"So you intend to make the modrons your slaves?"
He frowned. "They are slaves already, sirrah! They are slaves to law, logic,
and the confines of this experiment of theirs. Under my rule, they will finally
have a purpose in life worthy of their abilities."
"What if the modrons refuse to help you?"
He smiled at me. "Make no mistake, sirrah. They will help me. One way, or
another, they will help me."
"Let's say you do get out. What then?"
"I haven't decided yet. With the power of the cube behind me, I could be a
force to be reckoned with." He shrugged. "Time will tell."
"What can you tell me about this place?"
He laughed and looked around. "This little piece of hell? This is an example
of modron madness. It exists on the plane of Limbo, where thoughts can
actually become reality. That way they can simply will this dungeon into
being and then populate it with constructs." He laughed again. "What a
marvel."
"And what about the modrons?"
He shook his head. "There are no modrons here, sirrah. Only prisoners and
their captors."
I looked to Nordom, "But I've seen the modrons."
He shook his head and gave a sad smile. "No, sirrah. The creatures you have
met are nothing more than the corrupt remains of modrons. Most, if not all,
of these poor creatures are on the verge of going rogue and don't even
794