Battlespire Riddles

Through straitway is rightway
for most paths, I've found
Most goodway is sometimes
the other wayround.

Some live in me, some live on,
And some shave me to stride upon.
I rarely leave my native land.
Until my death I always stand.
High and low I may be found
Both above and under ground.

I rise above the roofs below
Finger up-raised to heaven.
I speak in clear tones
That aim for others
To gather where I call.

Armor bright
Gleaming white
A single rank
Their faces blank
Now hid by night
Now bold by light
Bright red the land
Where soldiers stand

Loadbearer, Warrior
Spirited, Brave
Fleet-foot, Ironshod
Faithful One, Slave

So dark, dirty, cold this place,
To stay you would refrain
Yet those who occupy this place
Never do complain

The gift your mother gives you,
Though prized by all, the long and short of it,
Too much of it kills you every time.

What was the sight my eyes were giving
When I saw the dead carrying the living?

We say some things improve with death.
What stinks when living, but dead smells good?

Who makes it neither needs nor wants it.
Who buys it neither uses nor wears it.
Who uses it neither sees nor feels it.

Never watched by daylight
Never watched by night
But evenstar watches oft and well
'Tween the black and bright