The cheeseman

"And to Her left stood the solemn simulacrum of Leviathan. He loomed over the courtyard with the dark, inevitable stillness of death, His first domain...

The statue was holding a gaunt finger to its lips, and the Hammer remembered the silence of a hundred thousand unmarked graves beneath a burning sky...

Once, the seven had been eight. That had been long, long ago—before the Age of Wandering, before the Second of Seven, before the sky had burned and the dawn had died. The Hammer knew a man who had watched the sunrise fail. A man who called himself Bors.
The Hammer glanced once more at the looming figure of Leviathan. He had seen that god, once. Beneath that burning sky, he had—for a brief, fleeting moment—seen a figure, cloaked in a shadow and crowned in dread, holding a bloodied sickle as He picked His way through the screams of the wounded and the silence of the dead, seeking those who were dying, to take them away beyond the Veil."
- from Bloodlines, Interlude One: Down From the Dawn on High

"He fought no men, only the rain. He parried, slashed, and stabbed at the storm as it crawled overhead, the black raiment of Taranis the Thunderer hiding the radiant sun. Lightning cracked across the sky, briefly illuminating Daernholm’s black walls with sheer white light. Thunder growled and rumbled, far away and close at hand. Enarë could feel it in is chest."

- from Bloodlines, Chapter Six: Peace through Strength

"Night fell upon the Fields of Revine, shadows lengthening and darkening beneath a burning dusk. Fires crackled among the groans of wounded men and the silence of the dead. The stars were glimpsed only briefly, the wind blowing smoke in front of their pinprick lights...

The Iron Knights had fought for the greater part of a day, killing and being killed since before dawn. Now, as night fell, they had finally snatched victory from the jaws of death."

- from an untitled short story written from the prompt "Waste"