Chosen are what happens when the pantheon starts paying attention. Head and shoulders above common warriors, swollen with blessings that creak inside their armor, they carry daemon-touched axes and icons of ruin that make the air around them feel like a held breath. Warbands part to let them through to the enemy's best, because that is what Chosen are for: killing whatever the foe was counting on.
Their eminence is a knife-edge. Every battle a Chosen fights is an audition performed before gods with short attention spans and long memories, where glory enough may finally buy apotheosis, and a single unworthy moment may buy the collapse into mindless spawnhood instead. The Chosen fight accordingly. No warriors in the hordes are more magnificent, and none are more afraid.
Order of battle
