TRANSCRIPT:

 

The Eshtakk’s corpse suddenly erupts with tentacles which reach out to ensnare Ipola

KOR LACHNIS: <Mock me now, moon queen!
Where are your clever jibes n- >
IPOLA: <Please don’t distract me.
I’m working on a poem in my head
as I deal with this obvious substitute for
your masculine inadequecy. How many words
in Erogenian are there that rhyme with
“impotent?”>