Warning: spoilers.

One eve in Litharge, deep in the slums,
Do I begin this fine but tall story.
I was drinking and boasting, to two spacer chums,
Of all my past exploits and glory.

"Let me tell you the tale, as we feast and drink well,
Of a buxom young dame in distress!
Held captive on Wuntoklan, by foul Vonikin Krel,
And rescued thence from her duresse!"

There the beast slobbered, his tentacles writhed,
As he approached the young maiden most fair.
"Oh save me!" she cried, her arms and legs tied,
Her delicate face flushed with despair.

"Unhand her!" I roared, riding in on my steed
And drawing a piece from my belly.
One blast did I fire and the beast did proceed
To explode in a shower of green jelly.

"Take me! My hero!" the fair damsel sighed,
Her full bosom heaving with passion.
We rode to the sunset, our bodies entwined,
And later made love in grand fashion.

"How odd!" cried one friend, "For I did the same,
A mere month and a half ago!"
"As did I!" cried the other, "But I rescued the dame
Last year in the month of Hecto!"

Could it be, dear Cassandra, your mind is insane,
To have chosen this strange occupation?
To be captured and rescued, again and again,
Forever the same situation?

Did a cruel man once hold your heart in his clutch,
But left you and burned it to ash?
Or is it that slavery excites you so much
That you always return to the lash?

So now you must cast in your repeating drama
New spacers who pass by your star.
And what of your aides, poor Voxxi and Kotha,
Ensnared in this folie a trois?

I'd rather fight Cleax, or lie dead and rot,
Or steer my ship into a sun.
Of the 99 quests that are problems I got,
A bitch like yourself sure ain't one.