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

ealize it."
"I've heared that term before. 'Rogue.' What does it mean, exactly?"
He sighed. "This dungeon is composed of the essence of chaos. Such matter
can easily be shaped into objects through the will of many like-minded
creatures. It makes the construction of such structures quite simple.
However, there is a price to be paid. Modrons are the very essence of law,
sirrah. Here, however, they are being exposed to the essence of chaos. Such
exposure often results in a form of insanity. The modrons begin to lose their
sense of we and instead become individuals. This is called going rogue and it
is a capital offence in their society."
I looked to Nordom. He was cocking his eyes curiously, as if he couldn't quite
understand what was going on.
"What happens to rogues?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I don't fully understand this, but modrons share some sort of
common essence. If a modron goes rogue he takes a piece of this essence
with him. The modrons will destroy all rogues so that this essence returns to
the common pool from which it sprang."
"Why do we have to fight at all? You're free... all the modrons are free. We
can go our separate ways. You leave the modrons alone, and I can ask them
to open a portal to whatever plane you wish."
He smiled at me, "You have been accepted as their leader and you control
the cube. Therefore, you must be eliminated. Nothing personal, you
understand. Simply business."
"Mmm. 'Business.' Well, let me show you what I trade in. ANNAH!" And with
the cry Annah leapt from the column she had climbed, driving both
punch-daggers into the back of the nearest construct's neck. Control
conduits were severed... pistons popped loose and oil gushed from the
wound, and the guard slumped over deactivated and useless.
The rest of us sprang into action as Rubikon's voice hummed mechanically,
technologically-simulated sorcery fueled by mechanical incantations was
being channeled into the amplifiers of his hands.
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