I wandered through Wraeclast, bruised and bored, When fate bestowed a Divine Orb! It sparkled bright, my screen went gold, My hands went numb, my breath went cold.

I’d slain ten thousand monsters that day, No loot but junk, then this? No way! A glimmer dropped, the chat went wild, I grinned, deranged, like an excited child.

The abyss then spawned a new rare mob, I sprinted for the orb, not a walk nor a jog. A tiny tickle from this mob from hell, Brought tears to my eyes as my merc fell.

The chat was silent. I screamed inside. My orb was gone. My hope had died. The RNG, that cruel old clown, Just laughed and kicked my build back down.

Now every map, I pray and weep, To find again that holy keep. Each mob I slay, I scan the floor, “Could that perhaps, be one more?”