“Never trust a Flumph. They’ll always break your heart.”
- Iagheh’xist the Commissar of the Brain Trust And Extractions Committee
A malevolent cloud, fearsome and tall,
Stalking atop the Ziggurat wall.
Unquenchable hunger for dominion and mind,
The highest specimen of his kind.
Yet the eating of brains he has forgot,
As he stares past his thralls lost in thought.
For far down below, away the milling hive,
In soft phosphorescence lit, an Angel flies,
Freely floating and dancing before his murky eyes,
Were they could, they would have cried!
The minds of a thousand psionics wander,
As wild and passionate imaginings cling,
Like limpets to the cold ocean bed,
Bringing life to a longing long presumed dead.
Bespelled by her siren’s call,
He stood small atop the Ziggurat wall.
And the eatings of brains he has forgot,
Instead it was now Flumphet’s heart he sought.