Odinnsong

we
the dead
are gathered to your hall

against the day
brass giants come again
to take our living kin

when we will fight and strike
and claw and call
and die again... again

will there be battlesong?
I do not know
there will be what is needful
and our will

we will be strong

until that day
we feast and fight and train
and wile the time away
in words and works and gain

in the battle's burnings and rebirths
each layer stripped
tritanium, flesh
and self
again... again

will you recall
falling rain?

Tales My Aunts Told Me: The Hungry God

There was once a god who felt a great hunger.

He sought to sate his hunger with worship, but still it gnawed at him.

He fed on works and riches, but the hunger only grew.

He grasped at souls and lives; at hopes and dreams; at the works of the mind and the truths of the spirit....

But still he could not glut his appetite.

He tried to feast on the other gods and spirits, who turned from him and left him alone.

And when he found that he still ached with hunger despite all the lives and works and riches and loves he consumed....

He ate even his own name.

And that is why the hungry god has no name in the ranks of the spirits and ancestors: he consumed it and became only hunger itself.

Those who follow the hungry god -- the evil god, the god of Amarr -- seek fodder to appease him still, capturing others and throwing them into his maw so they themselves might not yet be completely consumed.

[A similar tale is told in the Mitar clan, as related by Isobel Mitar.]