Chosen
A Short Story

“From the dawn of time they come,
The chosen, in service of the One,
Dark deeds and forced repentance,
This is a Chosen’s sentence.

Blood given and blood taken,
From dark deeds by their service are they shaken,
They appear tormented and always alone,
No hearth, no kin, no name and no home.

They atone for every thought and every action,
They are given a powerful sanction
To combat the devils of lust, greed and dark attraction.
They fight our soul’s darkest faction.

They are unknown and unseen,
Few remember where they have ever been,
They are the chosen,
They bring sunlight’s beam.

They are the chosen”

- The song of the Chosen.




The Girls story

He pitched forward into the alley, the dirt of the muddy street already staining his clothing as he fell into the small town. He was a little dazed by the fall that he had, though falling through the almost transparent nothingness that was part of his calling always left him feeling disoriented, though he never knew that it always did.
He saw, as he rose unsteadily to his feet, that he was, for this moment thankfully alone. His sudden appearance could have caused many questions which he would be unable to answer. He found that though amusing, that he appeared from mid air was bad enough but you also had to take into account the way that he was dressed. Wearing light trousers tied at the sides and waist with white almost oriental cord and a green woollen shirt, with silver leaf patterns at the edges he could stick out like an oddity, added to that he carried a short staff, almost as if was old or crippled. He was neither old nor crippled yet the staff was more needed, more important than simply a prop for old age, it was something else, just like him.
For all that he was an oddity he was not in the least memorable, amusement still running in him as he glanced at a nearby, partly open, garbage bin that held an old mirror. He could see his face clearly, it was not his face though, it never was and it was different every time. Added to that he knew that normal people when the remembered his face, even when they saw it in front of them, would never be able to clearly recall any details of it, or his hair colour or his eyes, they just knew it was him. He had given up a face a long time ago, just like he had given up a name. He had given up a home, family a future because of……because of what? He could never really be sure, every person was his first priority, so much so that memories of home, even of people he may or may not have helped before this were gone, only an Iron purpose remained. He looked down at his staff and grimaced, he knew without knowing why that it was alive and very, very, evil. He also knew that controlling the staff was as much a part of his task as it was to help people and to control himself.
Chosen he thought, his name, his purpose, his hope, damnation, salvation and penance all rolled into a tiny word. He was the person, maybe one of thousands as he could never be sure if there were anymore like him, who fought for things that mankind seemed to have lost and fought against things or people they seemed to have forgot. Was he a guardian angel? Was he just a man cursed? He was fucked if he knew, he only knew that the wind pulled at his heightened senses dragging him again towards what would seem to be his first person in need again and again down the affinity in time.
His gaze moved slightly, from the staff to his hands, he was obscurely glad that they were never hidden and always constant, even as they gripped the dark polished oak of the staff. They were a fighters hands, but not a brawler, the fingers long a deceptively delicate, the palms hardened like those of a fencer that seemed to invoke both power and beauty, like a poem about something along the lines of war. They were beautiful in their utter pain and deadliness. They always remembered his hands Chosen knew just as they never remembered exactly what he was wearing, the staff or his face.
His thoughts were stopped by the wind again as he felt need and a forewarning of dark pain. There was a feminine aspect to the wind and so he knew why he was here and following the wind that tugged at him but at no one else he picked up his staff and followed it to its source. A girl was in trouble beyond anything she could imagine and she needed a Chosen. He went to work.

She worked and worked at the table, quickly and effeciently cleaning every part of this damned place, hurrying around studients and always cleaning up after then. She thought that some of them were very ungreatful bastards.
She finshed her work and padded slowly, quietly along the halls. She should be going home, the place was almost deserted, plus she had almost finished, and yet she did not, couuld not and wouldn't be able to explain why...something did not feel quite right...with anything anymore. She lived in a state of detached fancination and spirtless she moved, like a ghost.
She did not notice the first hand around her face until it was too late, until she could not move for the fear that paralysed her.
"Don't you dare move bitch" whispered the first man behind her even as a secnd came close, masked and tearing at her clothes.
"Upetty bitch" the second said as he ripped off her underwear "you...want...this ". She was about to be raped, she knew and she knew that she was so helpless and that made her angry.
"Now boys" said a new voice, quiet and assured "rape is not a nice way to starrt the day" in her terror filled delirium she looked at the man standing across the corridor. A man carring a staff coming to her resucue! she almost burst out laughing in spite of herself.
"Deal with him" said the man holding her even as hood face moved to attack staff man.
she must have been delirious because the staff that he carried seemed to, just for a moment, suck all the light from around it and pulse, as if with it's own life blood before it connecyed with the man's jaw and sent him spinning like a rag doll. The man holding her took one look at the staff and the mans eyes and bolted. Staff man checked the other mans pulse and she could tell that, although he was not pleased with something, the staff man was glad that the other man was alive.
"Did you know them" she asked
"No"
"Do you know me?"
"No"
I'm laurie"
"I'm Chosen" he said, wether that was actually his name, some joke she was supposed to ger or just that he was a loon did not matter. She was glad he came."We need to leave. is there some place we can go?"
"There is a cafe across the street"
"come on then" and wondering why she followed Chosen down the corridor.
he also wondered, wondered why someone full of otherleeness wanted her so bad and hy he would warp two peoples mind to rape her. He wondered what made her so special and knew there would be more.