Path of Exile Talent Competition

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Ravenstrider wrote:

Resubmission of completed Entry #1:


Here is the link to the recording of me reading it, badly, for the lazy people. xD

The Recording

Click Me!

And here's the story in written form:

The Story

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The Thousandth Death

A Path of Exile Short Story


Shadowrope hid behind a pillar. He made sure that none of his skill gems were loose in their sockets and that the grooves in his daggers held enough poison for the grim venture ahead. Once he was satisfied, he glanced to the left, distracted by the constant zipping of his ice golem. The damned thing was making too much noise. 'I should never have gotten it in the first place.' he thought, but quickly shrugged the thought aside. What was done was done and there was no room for regrets.

He jumped out from his hiding place, quickly surveying the layout of the long narrow hallway in front of him, rushing the nearest skelleton, his daggers drawn. Why did it always have to be skelletons? Stabbing them never made a satisfying sound. He'd have to settle for the sound of bones rattling down to the floor as whichever force binding them together dissipated on contact with his skill-gem-enhanced weapons.

He mostly slashed at them, letting the momentum of his attacks drag him forward, gliding from one to the next, going for a stab whenever he found a piece of bone wide enough to accomodate his blade.
While Shadowrope's body was performing the deadly dance trough the half-light of the corridor, his eyes searched the gloom for the source of the neverending horde of undead.
'There!' He saw the necromancer muttering in the corner, reanimating long dead bones and sending them forward.
He whirled towards it, his daggers held ready for a synchronized stab. One should be enough, but he was going for two. One into each side of the creature's chest.

His attack flew true and he felt the blades sink into flesh. His moment of satisfaction, however, was quickly interuppted by a sharp pain in his own.
"No!" he muttered. "Not again!"
He fell to his knes, looking down at two puncture wounds, mirroring the ones he had just made on the necromancer.

He let his daggers clatter to the floor and clawed at his belt for the life flask hanging there, but it was too late.

As his soul left his body for the thousandth time, he had a strange vision of himself fishing on the bank of a river. He was calm...

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