1 1 - Chosen

The silence of the void was overwhelming. It's absolute nature removing all sensation from him, leaving him floating with no concept of time. Slowly his thoughts slowed and faded, his memories losing their purchase within him and slipping away bit by bit.

'Are you still with me, John?' A velvet voice ruptured the silence, the words sending spikes of pain into his mind from the sudden sensation after so much time with nothing.

Flashes of imagery went through his mind, a dark alley, a hooded figure emerging from the shadows with a knife in hand, blood on his hands. A broken body lay behind the figure; it's face disfigured from the passion of the attack.

'Focus John, focus on my voice,' the voice spoke again, dragging his mind from the circling slideshow of broken images. 'Good. Now open your eyes.'

John struggled to follow the command; his fractured will making even such a simple task difficult. A searing pain burnt John's brain as he opened his eyes to find himself in a grey box. He was sat on a black leather chair, opposite a refined looking middle aged man in a seat that was far more elaborate than his own. The man smiled slightly at John's action, acknowledging him with a nod. Jerkily returning the nod, John glanced around at the box around them. It was maybe ten feet on each side, and though it seemed to be translucent, he saw nothing but darkness beyond it. Not the pure darkness of no light, but murky darkness that made him think of the depths of the ocean, sending a jolt of primal fear down his spine.

'Excellent, it seems I caught you just in the nick of time after all, who knows how much longer until you wouldn't have been able to pull yourself together' the other man said with a benevolent smile. 'I would do yourself a favour though and not stare out into the depths like that.'

'Why?' John asked in a rough tone; his voice husky from lack of use. He started to say more when something in the darkness moved, nothing he could see clearly, but he got the impression of an undulating motion that fed right into the fear that was gnawing the inside of his stomach. John's eyes went wide as he instinctively jerked away from the movement, looking around them frantically to see what else was out there. As he focused on understanding what was out there, he began to make out shapes. Long sinuous shapes that arced impossibly far down into the depths, like giant tentacles searching for prey.

'The more you stare out into it, the more it stares back at you,' the other man replied with an easy smile like it was the most reasonable statement he'd ever made.

'What does that even mean?' John asked as he licked his dry lips and dragged his eyes away from the darkness outside of the cube, attempting to ignore what he had seen by focusing his attention on the man.

'Simply put, the Depths are unformed and open to any input from a mortal soul such as your own. In some ways, it's almost sentient in the way that it burrows into your heart and takes that which you dread the most.' The man's voice turned thoughtful as he spoke, one hand coming up to gently rub his jaw as he pondered his own words. 'I've often wondered just how it was formed. Perhaps it was once just a convenient spot for the souls of those who have the temerity not to follow the rules of the pantheon.' There was a slight heat to the man's voice as he spoke, his lips twisting as he spat out the last word.

'I see,' John said slowly, not understanding at all, but thankful that the movement outside the box seemed to have abated since he turned his attention to the other man.

'Good, that should make what I'm about to say all the more compelling,' the man said, his hand dropping to rest of the arm of his chair once more as he fixed John with a powerful gaze. 'Your soul is fated to reside in the Depths until you go mad or it degrades past the point of no return. A point that is further away than it once was, thanks to my intervention, but I doubt you'll stay sane long enough for that to matter.'

'My soul?' John repeated numbly before looking down at himself and realising that his body was just as translucent as the grey box around them. 'I'm dead, aren't I?' The realisation wasn't that dramatic for him; he had only vague memories of being alive, so being dead wasn't that much of a shock.

'Yes, and yes, I'm sorry to say. Your soul is all that remains and, without a patron to claim it, you have sunk into the Depths. Without my intervention, you would have slowly degraded over time and been lost forever.'

'Then thank you for your intervention,' John said, shuddering at the thought of being stuck out there amid the depths and whatever nightmare inducing creatures called it home. As if it responded to his thoughts, he saw a dark mass drift pass the cube, it's shape convulsing and continually changing in a discordant rush of motion that made him feel nauseous. Closing his eyes for a moment, John took a deep breath and settled himself. With an effort of will, he banished all thoughts of where they were away and focused every ounce of his attention on the other man before reopening his eyes.

'No thanks are needed, I am here with an offer after all. I require a champion and would like you to act in that capacity.' The man waved away his words with a smooth sweep of one hand.

'What do you mean, a champion?' John asked with a frown, not understanding what was being offered.

'Hmm, perhaps some context would be useful. My name is Morden, and I am what you would call a god, not a popular one in most civilisations, but a god nonetheless. As a god, I will be taking part in an upcoming contest of sorts, and for that, I need a champion. Questions?' Mordan settled back into his leather seat with a slight smile, his fingers steepled in front of him as he waited for John to process his words.

'What will the champions need to do, and what benefits and risks are there for me?' John felt like he should be more panicked or confused right now, but without other experiences to compare it to, it wasn't easy to know how to react.

'Well, the immediate benefit is to exist once more. You will be given a new body and can experience all the joys of being mortal once more, with the option to live on after the competition is over. The risks are pain and death, but that goes hand in hand with any mortal existence. Oh, and you will likely make several mortal enemies as part of the competition, but such is the price of life.' Morden shrugged and waved a hand at the idea of death and pain, dismissing them as inconsequential.

'What about the competition itself?' John asked, knowing already that he would accept Morden's offer, he had no desire to remain here in the depths.

'Well, the easiest way to explain it is that we exist on a plane of reality and creatures from one of the other planes are trying to invade and devour us all, an understandable impulse to be fair to them. The god of contests and games sacrificed much of her power to create a pseudo-realm for them to enter into, a place where her power is absolute, and we can fight them without risk to ourselves. The creatures invade regularly, and we reply by sending our champions to meet them, the performance of said champion then dictates our social standing until the next invasion. Does that all make sense so far?' Morden was leaning forward in his chair now, his eyes burning with passion as he spoke.

'I think so, yes. Will I be fighting alongside the other champions then?'

'No, all the champions are spread out to divert the enemy forces. Anyone and anything that a god brings in is removed at the end of a cycle. So you all start anew, however the better the standing of your god, the more you start with. From our current location, I'm sure you can guess my current standing,' Morden said with a scowl, his expression turning irritated for a moment before settling back to normal.

'Why does it matter if things are fair?'

'It matters because if things are fair, then The Realm, as it is known, can affect the creatures invading. They can invade, we can send champions, they gain points by doing damage to summon allies, you gain points by acting against them to summon allies, you get the picture. Don't expect me to explain the intricate nature of how her powers work, because I don't know. Anything else?' Morden rattled off his answer without a pause. One eyebrow quirked up as he watched John with a subtle smile.

'Not really, when do I start?' John said with a shrug. At this point, he just wanted to get out of here.

'Right now,' Morden said with a broad smile, stretching his hand out to shake John's.

As he reached out in turn, John realised two things, the first was that Morden's teeth were strange, they looked healthy enough, but as the god leaned in, he could see they were serrated and a lot more pointed than they should be. The second was that he never asked what Morden was the patron god of.

Before he could open his mouth to ask Morden, their hands clasped, and his whole world faded to black once more.