The shamans of the Albanni commune with the spirits of land and earth and sea. There are thousands of such spirits; each beast of the field and crawling or swimming thing has a patron, an overseeing power. But a small handful of those powers have, for reasons unclear to the Albanni, chosen to acknowledge the existence of humans and interact with them.
The Spirits are not gods; or perhaps the gods are the Spirits of humans, or the Spirits are the Gods of the animals. In any case, the Spirits who deign to acknowledge humans are a similar, but different, order of supernatural being to the gods. They interact together – many myths will cite The Hunter pursuing the Bear, or The Storyteller and Adder, or the Midwife, Pike and the Moon’s Child – but they seem to operate in independent ways.
No sacrifice is too great for what matters to me,
I see beyond the clouds and far horizon of this world.
I make the hard choices others cannot face.
I endure and survive, no matter what the price.
I am alone, and weak. We are many, and strong.
I kill, and run, and laugh, and kill again for pure joy.
I will be strong, and take what I need from the weak