Conrad, you old schooner, sent from your cove,

Of souls, your hero braved an ocean, then

Drifted past a shoal. Now, landing on a

Shanghaied beach, he trekked into the wasteland,

Where choking plumes of ash rained hard upon

The columns. And death did pause to taste the

Seeds, the woe, and rank of slaver's greed, then

Pandered his familiars breathe, charnel

Vapors from its salt mines.