Path of Exile Talent Competition

The embers of the flame that burned in the Lioneye's Hearth glowed. The heat radiating from the fire was the only modicum of comfort I was ever going to receive. It was raining again, the torrent of rain that poured from the sky coupled with the fact that I only had a thin garb on made it impossible not to shiver in the cold.

Then again, it could still be worse. I could have been executed at Oriath or devoured by scavengers. Bloody scavengers. Mind you, they were once humans too, just like me. Poor souls, what did they ever do to Wreaclast? The way the land had corrupted the people and creatures that used to inhabit this land was frightening. But it’s hard pity people who are trying to hunt and kill you. Everything on this blasted continent is trying to kill you. However there are also some who have helped me, but I can't say I enjoy all of their company.

Bestel is a bit of an odd one he is. It doesn’t help that his mumbling keeps me up at night. Then there's Nessa. I admire her resolve and the work she's done to help the people here. Heck, she even patched me up the other day. I got pretty beat up by the undead. I’m still amazed at how I managed to survive that. Oh yeah now I remember, it was Tarkleigh who saved me. Heh, wouldn't be the first time he's had to save me. The first time would be the day I washed up on the shores of Wreaclast.

Tarkleigh saved me from a horde of the undead when I had landed on the shores of Wreaclast. It was through the ordeal that I realised that I wasn't the first to be exiled, and I certainly am not going to be the last. So, I took it upon myself to help the exiles that come into Lioneye's Watch in any way I can.

This evening, Tarkleigh got me on sentry duty again. I guess I should be grateful. If it weren't for Tarkleigh, I would have been dead by now. Though I don't feel I could do much against a horde of the undead. All we have to defend against the undead is a few rusted swords and makeshift driftwood shields.

Master Haku brings in a few more blades and scraps of armour every now and then, but that barely keeps us going. More so that I don't like the way he looks at me sometimes. Maybe it’s just his Karui appearance, or the fact that he ventures out in search of ancestral apparitions.

That’s not nearly as bad as Master Elreon though. He goes about looking for Wreaclast's lost relics and prays before them. Funny how being a Templar didn't stop Dominus from exiling him. So long as he keeps his distance and doesn't attempt to set me down 'The path of divinity' as he says, I don't mind his presence.

And then there's Navali. I heard that some exile saved her from a massive skeletal beast up in the climb. If it were me I would have left her there. After all, it was her kind that got me exiled in the first place. Bloody sorcerers and their arcane magic. But I never belonged in Oriath anyway.

In my last day in Oriath, I was brought upon the high Templar of the court and judgement was carried out promptly after. I was deemed guilty of crimes against god and the order, and so they put me on the next ship bound for exile. Which is where I find myself now.

I walked down the steps to the foot of Lioneye's Watch and stood still before the tall metal spikes jutting out of the sand. Dozens upon dozens of letters covered nearly the entire surface of the spikes. Each was the last possession of every exile that landed on Wreaclast alive. Amongst all the letters, I spotted my own and examined it once more for no particular reason. All the words and letters were all too familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. I know who I am.

My name is Farlene. On 1598 I.C, I was sentenced to exile by a man named Dominus. I was charged with association with unholy sorcery and desecration of Templar authority. During exile, I have faced many hardships and lived through them, and most importantly I finally found my purpose.