Chaos Chosen

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.