The Arc has returned, with his game all aglow,
He’s spruced up the content, made the bugs fade away slow.
Yet in shadows she lingers, through the tempest and storm,
Our favorite merchant waits, in her unusual form.
She’s selling her bombs, with a wink and a grin,
Not bound by the laws that govern our kin.
Though odd and peculiar, she means us no harm,
Just sharing her wares, with a flick of her charm.
The Field lies barren, the wind whispers low,
Wherever did the merchant wander and go?
She left in a rush, during chaos and fight,
Now alone at the gate, shrouded out of sight.
Behind veils yet unseen, she waits in the haze,
A flicker of hope in these war-torn days.
Wait a bit longer, for in his deep pit,
The Arc’s tapping away, crafting every bit.
Perchance in the next patch, the gates will swing wide,
And we’ll greet our dear merchant, once more at her side.
Let’s hope she stays safe, from Morgana’s dark crew,
With dreams of her items, and her charms shining true.
For some strange reason, unbeknownst to us... she only speaks in rhymes, which kinda makes it tough.
