Path of Exile Talent Competition 2018

Leo, master of the arena poem. :

From the greatest arenas of Oriath
From the undeground sewers of Sarn
From the Sandy Arena of Sarn
Here, there is the master of the arena

Waiting people to fight together
With the eyes of a howl
He still watching dead bodies
Behind his spellbook

Players will remember him
As the painful master
To level him up

Kneel to our lord Leo!
(I hope it sounded like a poem tbh haha)

cool

You should sell shirts by default.. I would buy a lot!

"

Frisber wrote:

Is writing a talent?

If it is, would a text work?

Yes.

From the OP:

"

Your talent could be anything from fan art, videos, music, fan fiction,... A general guide for this is that your submission should take no longer than five minutes to read, listen to or view.

GIFs? My time to shine!

I call it the stupid sexy Kaom's totem.

Here is my entry, a very short story I devised and wrote. Enjoy.

KALANDRA

There lies a shadow behind the stars the children of Tsoatha spoke of in whispers.
Beyond the nethermost reaches of the outer layer, where scuttling horrors dwell dead in living nightmare, beyond even the cold firmament, a glimmering structure like a door cast in silver and glass and etched in fragments of dream stands, abiding and eternal, enclosing our world and in turn being enclosed by it.
This vast, sprawling maze of incomprehensible shapes and everlasting mirrors, built of dimension apart from our own, the learned men of the archipelago referred to after the constellation that shone atop the highest spire of the city of Tsoth, Kalandra the Beautiful.
As a goddess she was represented as both male and female, bearing fortune in her right hand, and ruin in her left. In rapt, desperate whispers, every day at dawn the people of Tsoatha would invoke her blessing and offer libations to the Mirror City, true world above and beyond the stars. The only salvation from the tyrant of salt and brine.
And so they did, for an age and yet more, continue their secret worship, praying with consumed fingers while toiling under the yoke of their eternal master.
But when at last Kalandra gave to them, it was with the wrong hand.
No one, to this day, knows precisely how or why on the eve of the doom of Tsoatha, while the god Sin was giving birth to The Beast, silence fell on Tsoth. The scant few survivors would only remember the screams and fires, and the piercing hail falling as Tsoatha sunk into the depths along with its loathsome master. But of the object that fell and struck the centre of the isles mere moments before the end, or the unfortunate fate of those that witnessed it, none would bear memory.
Still, it is said that, kept intact by the turbid currents that circle and hide the cyclopean ruins of ancient Tsoth, the silent bodies of the praying Tsoathans still stand in the broken streets and ruined Square, all facing westward, turned into silvered mirrors that break at a touch into oddly shaped trinkets.
These curious artefacts legend would want imbued with awesome powers, capable even of copying reality on a whim. As a result, it is no surprise that every old brigand and cheat found in the brackish dens of a backwater port will claim possession of one. But pray do not be fooled, for these are but polished pot sherds or the broken ends of bottles and cups.
As indeed, of the so fated Mirrors of Kalandra very few have ever found more than whispers on the wind, or seen anything other than a shadow behind the stars.

Well, i tried!!!

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This text is automatically translated, sorry for the errors. The original in Russian is located in the appropriate section of the forum by reference https://ru.pathofexile.com/forum/view-thread/29598/page/5

Witch.

A shining purple satin glove, like a liquid precious glass, enveloped the thin fingers of a witch. Her hand slowly touched the thick layer of ash and pressed it, lifting the skull of the defeated demon.
- Sister! - Senior Brother Zombie spoke in his low, deaf voice - Sister! These enemies from the damned cracks in the earth are much stronger than those with whom we had dealt before. My brothers rebelled three times in time to save you from their claws. This is a big threat, Sister! Perhaps we should return for a while and regain our strength.
"You are brave warriors, what kind of return are you talking about?" - The hand of the stone Golem lay on the shoulder of the Elder Brother Zombies.
"You are strong, Golem." You are beautiful, like those statues in temples, whose heads the Brethren smashed without counting, but you are very young and therefore do not know much. - Senior Brother Zombie pulled his shoulder, not even turning on Golem, and so could not notice a slight smile on his stone face.
"The lady really looks tired," said Golem. "Perhaps the pity you proposed is what she needs."
- A pity?! The Sister does not need pity! "The older Brother Zombies turned abruptly-what do you know about her at all?"
"It's enough for me to know that she freed me from the slavery of the crystal mines and I am sure that when she completes her mission she will be able to free all my people who are suffering now in cruel imprisonment - Golem looked calmly into the bloody eyes of the zombies.
- Finish the destination! That would be happiness! - Senior Brother Zombie smiled, suddenly flashing with two rows of white strong teeth - Each of us has it's own. You are Prince Golem, you are thinking about the salvation of your people and in this is your destiny. My Brothers also dream of freedom, dying and reborn in every battle. We have been pursuing this goal for several years, from the day when the Great Creator, being the king of mortals, was killed by his own wife, the Nobleman, for his betrayal, for his love for our Sister! Like all kings, he was not at the mercy of choosing his wife, but he could choose love.
- Is the Lady and Great Creator bound by the bonds of love? - Golem was surprised.
- Yes. It was the Sister's love that saved him from death and made him what he is now - distraught with love and sorrow by the Creator of the New Worlds. He inhabits these worlds with the full measure of Good and Evil, thus giving them the power and ability to defend themselves against invasions. The sister hurries to meet him, overcoming this force. She believes that when she meets him, she can defeat the black spell, which she herself imposed on him and return the beloved - the older brother Zombie sighed.
"But judging by what I see, Mistress is not the only one in a hurry to meet the Creator." The golem stirred a stone eyebrow.
"You're right, Prince of the Stone!" The spell was so powerful that the murderer of the Creator, his wife, the Nobleman, was given a force of destruction comparable to the power of the Creator himself. Such is the terrible balance of this magical catastrophe. A noblewoman walks through countless worlds to her husband, the King and sows chaos and destruction in the hope of destroying him.
"Then what kind of nasty things are cracks in the earth, the skins of which are cast in gold and bronze?"
"They are servants."
- Whose servants are these?
- Servants of the Ancient Lord, the progenitor and guardian of Magic. All that I told you about, Prince, woke him up and he decided that the most sure outcome would be the subordination of everything to his forces.
- Hows! So in this race of pursuers there are already three, and the prize rushes to run away with all its might? The golem smiled again.
-Yes. "The older Zombie Brother shook his head.
"Then the Lady would not be in the way to help," Golem made a regretful gesture in the air.
The Witch lifted the demon's skull and the ashes scattered in the wind with fine trickles.
The left arm slowly extended to the forehead of the dead monster.
- Eeee it! I want to eat! - An evil whisper came from a small mouth that was twisted and fought in impotent rage in the midst of a shining ring, put on a finger.
"Do you feel this stone?" Asked the Witch.
- Yes, Mistress! Give it to me! Give! I want to eat! The ring hissed.
The ashes crumbled and a bright blue crystal of magical stone was visible in the demon's skull.
"Now your hunger will be satisfied." - The witch inserted the crystal into the mouth of the ring and it eagerly absorbed it.
The witch raised the ring high in front of her eyes and, turning it from side to side, enjoyed the insane sounds of devouring a magical stone.
Directly in front of her, pushing the corpses of dead monsters, from the depths of the Abyss ghostly gates rose.
When the stone was finished, dozens of fire skulls fell from the Ring of Hunger and rushed into the abyss of the Abyss Gate.
"The path to your enemy is open to me, beloved!" I'll have time to save you! I'm coming! cried the Witch.
- It's time! said the Elder Brother Zombies and the rest of the Brothers rose from the corpses of the defeated enemies.
- It's time! - Golem stepped forward and layers of granite armor hid the body and face, turning it into a rock.
- It's time! This call echoed through the neighborhoods and froze somewhere in the depths of the black eyes of the Witch.