You were a special child in this world, a child who remembered what others forgot, saw what was real and never lost that vision when you grew older. You were able to see through the lies the world wove around you and see things as they were, seeing what lurked in shadows and the dark powers that sometimes touched the world for evil ends. As you grew older, this knowledge made you an outcast among the other humans, among those who didn't know - or refused to admit - that the world was larger than they made it, cherishing the illusion that they were alone. Eventually, one of these things from the other place hurt someone you knew. You made war on it, and it's servants, and recieved aid from beyond, from beings that looked like men but weren't men. They destroyed it and offered you the chance to become like they were. With nothing left to bind you to the realm of Flesh, you accepted ...

You were a wanderer, one of the many seekers of knowledge trying to find the Truth of the world you were convinced had been forgotten long ago. The words of a mad drunkard provided you with inspiration, when he said he drank to forget the truth. You stopped drinking in knowledge, tried to unlearn all you knew about reality. Perhaps you ended up in the wrong place, or the right one. You don't know. But you began to see things that couldn't be real, but were real. And you saw something you can only call Evil, a being of foul passions who was killing the homeless of the city. And realised that some things become forgotten for good reasons. The old drunkard died to its fangs and you vowed vengeance. But you were mortal. And whatever it was, mortal it was not. Dying from its casual blows, some ... others arrived, beings like but unlike you, with the power to bind this creature. As you lay dying, they offered you the chance to understand the truth of the world, and aid them. You accepted ...

You walked through the trails carefully, sifting through the smells until you found the one that reminded you of what had killed the shaman. You clutched your rough hewn club tightly as you approaced its lair. It came at you quickly, all fangs, claws and madness made flesh. But you were strong, strong enough to hold back madness and strike it over and over, until it finally died. As you stumbled from the cave, beings who looked human but scented different approached you, and offered you the shaman's world. You accepted ...

.. You acepted the burden and power of the Stalkers, given to mortals by the Primal Powers to defend their home world against invasions from the Unseen world of Essence. You protect the world of Flesh from those who would destroy it, the very beings who made it. This is why you were Chosen.