Path of Exile Talent Competition 2018

A cold wind howled across the beach, the dark clouds above peering down upon the exile. The cold waves licked at her legs as she awoke, as if beckoning her to return to the darkened waters. The survivor shivered as she rose from the wet sand, the threadbare garb hardly protecting her from the harsh winds. Looking around, the bodies of other exiles surrounded her. Some were bloated and drowned while others laid upon the sand with gashes and wounds across their bodies, having been spit against the sharp rocks and crushed by the currents as if they were nothing more than filthy insects. An unbearable scent emanated from the corpses, as if they had already rotted. Peering down the beach she could make out the shape of smoke rising from beyond some ruins, perhaps it could be a settlement? A faint ember of hope flickered within her, like a gentle flame facing a storm. Perhaps Wraeclast would not yet claim another life.

She grasped her shoulder, pain flaring up upon even the slightest movement. Looking down, the exile realised that while she had survived the journey to Wraeclast, it was not without a price. Blood seeped down her arm from a deep wound, a large shard of debris protruding from her bruised skin. Grasping the wood and bracing herself, the wounded exile began to pull. Searing agony pulsed throughout her body, the dirt-coated fragment stuck deep into her shoulder. She let go as she nearly fell to her knees, gasping for breath whilst tears ran down the exile's cheeks. Sobbing, she thought of the old life which had been stolen by the templar, how she had been exiled for petty theft. Thievery was the only way her family could have gotten by without starving yet the templar had not hesitated to exile whatever criminals they found, no matter how petty the crime.

The sound of a pained groan broke through the howl of the wind and sea. Something yet lived despite the ordeal they had suffered. Turning back to look at whoever could still be alive, there only seemed to be corpses strewn upon the sand. Yet one man rose to his feet, his mangled body barely intact after he'd been smashed against the rocks on the way ashore. Flies crawled upon his bared flesh as his unhinged jaw hung freely from his head, only a mere strip of flesh keeping it attached. This creature, a man no more, watched her with dark and hungry eyes as it lurched forward with its arms outstretched, grasping in the air. Clutching her arm as adrenaline surged, she ran down the beach as fast as her wounded body allowed, eyes fixed on the smoke ahead. Old wooden structures stood scattered around the bleak beach, the rotted wood practically falling apart in the wind. As the new arrival rushed past, drops of blood leaving a crimson trail behind, more and more corpses rose from the sand.

Gasping for air she slowed down for a moment, realising she had made a fair distance between herself and any undead abominations. The hungry cries of the deceased still haunted the air despite the escape, yet they could not catch up. Still sobbing with pain, she knelt in the sand to grip the wooden tormentor. Taking a deep breath she steeled herself once more. As she began to pull, a different pain struck her back, like a sharpened rock. Standing up as she cried out, the alarmed exile turned around to see a strange creature which watched the scene before it, its many eyes staring with predatory intent as its mandibles clicked. A long, intimidating tail sprouted from the creature's behind, granting it a menacing and oppressive appearance. As she stared at the ominous beast, the sand below began to shift. More of the insect-like monsters began to emerge from the sand, some turning to face their newfound prey with their tails.

Swiftly rising, the exile fled once more. Stones rained down upon the sand, some even striking the back of the fleeing exile. The smoke of the encampment trailed upward into the sky, a beacon of hope among the infested beaches. Determined to cheat death for even another day, the exile hurried forth through the wet sand.

The smoke was ever so close, a safe haven calling out to the condemned.
She stopped in her tracks, halted by the sight ahead.
A behemoth of a man stood before the fortified walls.
The hilt of a sword stuck out from his chest, along with the shafts of broken arrows, recent and otherwise. What horrendous curse could do this?
The behemoth stepped forth, its fists clenched. Dread filled the heart of the exile, yet the promise of safety was too great to forfeit. Despite the great pain of the splinter, there was only one way to go. Forward. The beast advanced and swung, its fists capable of crushing the skull of a Karui warrior in a single blow. Ducking, she avoided the tremendous blow and passed the hulking beast. The door leading into the encampment stood between the beach and safety. The exile slammed herself against the door, yet it did not budge. The sound of heavy footsteps promised a swift end before a crushing blow struck the desperate survivor. Darkness fell upon her.

When the darkness finally lifted, the faces of other exiles greeted the wounded arrival. Their eyes glittered with life yet they seemed somehow empty, devoid of hope.
The inhabitants of Lioneye's Watch spoke of how Hillock, the hulking undead just beyond the walls, had nearly managed to kill yet another. It was a near miracle she had survived the blow. They had fought it back, if only just. Yet the newly arrived exile felt ill and weak. The newfound saviours had removed the large splinter from her shoulder, yet they could not prevent the sickening infection which tainted the flesh of its host. Medicine was in short supply, and what remained had been used to keep the wounded survivor from the gates of death.

The exiles did what they could to ease the suffering of the new arrival, yet time passed and she grew ever weaker. The fireplace sparked, a gentle glow illuminating the wet stonework around it. She watched other exiles pass by, one by one departing for the coast in the hopes of finding a better life further inland. One had even promised to gather medical supplies for the exiles of Lioneye's Watch down by some wreckage, yet they had not returned. One could only assume what fate they had faced out upon the blood-soaked beaches beyond the walls.

She shakily rose from the floor beside the fireplace, its radiant warmth doing little to bring comfort. The sound of the ocean waves beckoned still as the moon gazed down upon the ruins. She wandered toward the ancient waypoint and stood upon the edge, peering out over the ocean with the thought of home swimming through her mind. Fatigue and disease grasped upon the soul of the exile as her weakened body could no longer bear the infection. Slipping over the edge, the cold air vanished as the surface of the water below struck her. The cold embraced its newfound prey; the water filled the exile's lungs. The song of sirens flooded her mind as the depths called out. Only darkness remained.

With lights:


Without lights:

Fabric Sourcing:

For the fabric - I would like to give the clock a bit more texture and sheen. That's why I choice a crepe with a textual finish and not just simple satin fabric for robes.



Fabric Testing:

There are a lot of burnt part on the hem of the cloak, I need to make sure the fabric is combustible and would create the rough edges like the ones appeared on the game icon. Also I'd like to make the runes on the scarf glow in the dark to make it extra special.



Draping & Sewing:



Painting the Scarf

The paint I use is actually a Phosphorescent acrylic but I used a squeeze bottle instead of brushes. It is because the thicker the paint the brighter it glows in the dark.



Photoshoot Day