Before you stands a cubed creature, strange and alien in all but the most orderly of fashions. Its proportions perfectly even with an equal length of three feet per face to its cube-shaped body as to its equally three-foot long legs and three-foot long arms. As it moves, it whirrs and clicks like clockwork, though it clearly seems to have organic materials to it as well, the two seperate elements perfectly bonded with one another in an inextricable, orderly union of flesh and metal. This is a modron, a quadrone to be precise, and an agent of Law within the Multiverse.

       ~~**((On Modrons))**~~
What's a mortal to make of the modrons, those strange creatures of absolute order who whir and click on the plane of Mechanus? Theirs are not like other lives - even the infinitely subtle baatezu are more comprehensible than these thronging drones. To an outsider it appears the modrons have no existence other than as a whole. Indeed, there is a saying: "To look at one modron is to look at all of them."

It is only logical, as it is with all things modron, that they are native to the orderly plane of Mechanus. The two, plane and modrons, probably would not exist without each other - modron society defines the plane, just as the plane shapes them. To understand the modrons, a being must stop thinking like a person, like an individual. Only then can anyone hope to comprehend the patterns of modron life.

Modrons are strictly divided into fourteen castes. Castes are hardly unique, but the modron approach to them is. Not only does each rank have its own functions, but each also has its own body shape, so the rank of any modron can be readily identified by the creature's appearance.

[Society]
To understand modron society, one must abandon all understanding of the self. In such forgetting comes knowledge, so with the surrender victory is gained. Should the scholar retain the slightest glimmer of who he is, his words are tainted and his observations lies. It is said that those able to strip their souls so bare become modrons, themselves, and their spirits become different from their shells.

It is a fundamental property of the modrons that each rank can only comprehend the existence of the rank directly above and below it. For example, the monodrones obey the will of the duodrones, but they cannot even conceive of the existence of the tridrones. When a monodrone sees a tridrone, it does not see a modron, and it could not even say what it sees. Some aphasia apparently breaks the link between the sight of the higher modron and what it actually is. This blindness leads to an interesting conclusion, as each rank believes that those immediately above it are the highest form of life and the fountainhead of supreme logic. Thus, Primus' lordship is secret from all modrons but the four secundi, who pass his edicts on to the nine tertians, who in turn pass these to the quartons (who have no knowledge or understanding of either the secundi or Primus), and so on.

There is an awareness of all ranks below a modron's station, yet communication is exclusively limited to adjacent ranks. It would seem that the monodrone is almost as alien to the tridrone as the tridrone is to the monodrone. This is not the result of elitism. Rather, the strict order observed by the race completely negates the slightest necessity for communication beyond immediate inferiors and superiors.

A modron's perception of its immediate superiors should not be mistaken for deification, either. What others might call a god, the modrons cannot imagine, for they are unable to conceive of such an individual existence. Instead, all life and direction spring from a pool of logical action - all that is right happens because it must inescapably be, and all that is wrong is that which must not be. These metal limitations make dealings with modrons a challenge. Within each rank there is no individuality, either in form or thought. All modrons call themselves "we", and a character has no way of knowing if the pentadrone he spoke to today is the same as the one who held the same post yesterday. This would be minor if the modrons weren't so bureaucratically driven, requiring strangers to appear and reappear before clerks, courts, and boards. Some travelers solve the problem with a brush and paint, marking modrons with runes simply to tell them apart. Unless instructed to remove these marks, a modron may wear a splash of color or a strange sigil for the rest of its life, for they don't seem to notice the markings themselves.

Even the size of modron society is rigidly fixed. In each rank there are only a set number of modrons. Should a modron of any rank die, an available candidate from the next lowest rank is promoted, and then the gap in the lower rank is filled by promoting from the still lower rank. This continues until the rank of monodrone is reached. With no lower ranks, the creatures at this level reproduce by fission, as one of their members mysteriously divides into two.

Promotion occurs seemingly by accident. As soon as a vacancy occurs, the nearest modron of the next lowest rank is recruited to ascend. Since they have no individuality, there's no point in trying to promote the "best and the brightest"; all modrons of a given rank are deemed equal. Promotion is traumatic - not only does the chosen modron undergo a wrenching change of shape to the new rank's form, but it suddenly gains an understanding of a world previously veiled to it: the existence of a yet superior rank. Imagine the shock of a duodrone, who knew only of monodrones, duodrones, and tridrones, when it suddenly discovers those inexplicable creatures around it are quadrones and members of its own race! On the other hand, the newly promoted modron seems to adapt to its new form instantly, and it is the humanoid observer who is often most shaken by the experience.

[Ecology]
Modrons fulfill many roles within Mechanus. They maintain parts of the sphere and are maintained by it. They make war with their enemies and trade with their neighbors. Together, they are one living social entity. Those few that venture outside their plane (on orders from their superiors) will always attempt to bring order out of chaos, sense out of nonsense.

The bodies of modrons slain anywhere immediately disintegrate. It is suspected that whatever energies were trapped within the creature's mortal form find their way back to Mechanus and merge with the energy field of the plane. This field is what sustains the modron race.

[Rogues]
Modrons are virtually unthinking in their strict hierarchical order. No beings' minds are as focused on law, stability, repetition and the security of harmonious repetition. But the multiverse isn't perfect - not even in Mechanus - and sometimes things go wrong. Sometimes a modron receives conflicting orders from two or more superiors, or is confronted with incontrovertible proof that all is not orderly. Sometimes a modron's mind just snaps. These circumstances create rogue modrons.

When modrons go rogue, they lose most of their special abilities and even the normal modron form that designates their position within the clockwork hierarchy. They find themselves cast out of Mechanus, the heart of law and the only world they have ever known, and plunged into the cold, lonely and (worst of all) chaotic multiverse. Rogue modrons have the forbidden and reprehensible glimmerings of self-awareness, the only thing that allows them to survive in this new sphere.

Rogue modrons are not crazed lunatics craving chaos and destruction. Most folks can't tell a rogue modron from a "normal" one just by listening to it talk about the multiverse. It still is an extremely ordered being, with law at the center of all of its thoughts and ingrained in the way it feels, acts, and reacts. To another modron, the differences are obvious, and the rogue is some sort of chaotic wild-child; but to other folks, the rogue modron still seems like the epitome of order.