Conrad, you old schooner, sent from your cove,

Of wayward 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 dreadfully

On the columns. And death did cheer and taste the

Seeds of woe that reaked of slaver's greed, while

Scores of his familiars breathed charnel vapors

From his salt mines.