Arachnyr.

A short prayer to the Eight-Legged God of Sincere Hatred.

O God,
Eight of limb and eye,
Whose strands weave the threads of time.

O God,
Noble caster of web and line,
Whose craft entraps all crime.

O God,
Hunter of wayward eras,
Whose venom stuns the world.

O God,
Shall not others draw nearer,
Whose body life does curl.

O God,
There in greater dark,
Whose will determines fate.

O God,
Honoured be your mark,
Whose realm dwells ever late.