Corporation details - The Ankou [ANKOU]
Alliance: Brothers of Tangra CEO: AnkouCEO
Kills: 775 HQ:
Losses: 650 Members: 38
ISK destroyed: 487.81B Shares: 1000
ISK lost: 256.45B Tax Rate: 10%
Efficiency: 65.54% Website: http://www.theankou.net/
Recruitment: CLOSED.

We are a PVE/PVP corp, in 0.0 Vale of the Silent. Renter and part of WERMT.

Public Channel: Ankou Public.


Ankou is a personification of death mainly in Breton mythology

Aka: Death, the Grim Reaper

Description

Ankou (Ahn-koo) is the personification of death who comes to collect the souls of passed-over humans. He is male, dark, wearing a black-robed costume pulled up high about his head and a large hat that conceals his face. No one living has ever seen his face, for to do so would be to die. He drives a black cart, though some say it is really a small coach or even a hearse, drawn by four black horses. When there are too many patrons, he is assisted by two skelettons who hurl the corpses into the cart. He is always preceded by a cold gust of wind.

Role

Collect the souls of those recently passed over and escort them into the Land of the Dead. An old Irish proverb says, "When Ankou comes, he will not go away empty."

Story

One legend hinted that Ankou had once been a cruel landowner who foolishly challenged Death to a game of chance. A Prince, prone to fits of jealous anger and petty viciousness, loved to hunt. The moment of death, like the pain of his fellows, was as mother's milk to him. One night, on the Sabbath, the man decided to have some sport in his forest. While chasing a white stag, a magical animal found in several Celtic stories, the man and his then-drunken companions stumbled across a massive figure drabbed in black atop a magnificent white horse (another symbol of death). The Prince challenged the silent man to a contest, angry at having found him on his land. Whoever could kill the stag would not only keep the meat and hide, but could also determine the fate of the loser. The stranger readily agreed, his voice reminding the assembled men of the sound of leaves scraping against the castle walls.

The hunt was over so quickly that the Prince could only stammer. As hard as he had rode, the stranger had galloped faster. Through field and stream and mountain, the dark stranger remained in the lead, night winds tugging wildly at his cloak. And when the Prince was still stringing his bow, the stranger let his arrow loose with a dead whistle and a sickening tear of shredding flesh.

The vindictive Prince ordered his men to surround the stranger, bragging that he would bring two trophies back to his hall that night.

The stranger laughed.

"You can have the stag," he said, "and all the dead of the world. Your joy is hunting? Hunt then! Your trophies will be found across battlefields and hearth, and they will reek of decay, huntsman."
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PS If you just read all that, you're a retard
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