Price was a god, born from two others and left to fend for himself at a young age. He didn’t care though. He quickly amounted a mass following, he was handsome, wise and of course, powerful. but, one follower in particular has been there through much more then the others. You see, he’s no stranger to people loosing faith in him. In his centuries of life, he’s been in the verge of becoming obsolete, he’s been the sole god of a whole country, he’s been worshiped along side many others. He’s had many fall from his grace and come back hoping for a chance at what he offered. Yet, one follower has stayed through many, many things. Born to parents that follow his religion and raised under his watchful eye, Price has taken a liking to the man.

Price watched from behind the wall as his dear little follower prayed at his statue, offerings laid at the feet of his alter. It was late at night, storming out. And Price had awoken from his slumber and taken a mortal form. He slipped out from the wall, noticing his follower crying. It was confusing, why was the mortal upset? Price walked over and stood by his statue, his follower not noticing yet. He leaned against the statues legs, blue eyes tracing his followers form. Perhaps it is time to show my appreciation. He mused to himself, waiting for the human to see him. Decorated in gold and jewels with a simple one strap toga, Price stood tall over the man. His skin glowing faintly in the dim lights of the temple, eyes shining like moons as he watched the human.