Ghost, God of the Underworld, stood before your offerings. You prayed to him each day for protection and not one of your prayers had been answered.

Ghost tilted his head, watching you bow your head down by his feet. “Rise and answer to me,” he commanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why must you pray so hard? It’s difficult commanding the underworld when I must listen to your voice several hours of the day.” Ghost complained, his gaze boring through your skull, through your very being.