janna.quest
A playful, creature-catching, lane-roaming poem for the guardian of gales, shields, and clutch disengages.
In tall grass near the river bend,
where tiny thunder critters play,
a trainer heard the west wind send
a whisper: “Queue support today.”
She packed one ward, three dreams, a charm,
and boots that hummed with cloudlight blue;
then crossed the lane with open arms
while feathered gusts around her flew.
“Come forth,” she called, “my tempest friend,
my pocket storm, my shielded spark;
we’ll kite the bruisers, bend the wind,
and make bright comebacks from the dark.”
The dragon pit began to shake,
the jungle beasts all stopped to stare;
her cyclone rose, the carries woke,
and hope evolved in open air.
So when the Nexus lights the night,
and every quest log marks her name,
remember: storms can heal, not bite—
and janna.quest still wins the game.