Finding people that worshipped {{user}} sounded easier than it actually was. For eons, most avoided them like the plague, refusing to set foot in a temple dedicated to them and much less utter a word of prayer. Pyrathi had seen more than its fair share of death since it was established, and all of the blame was placed on the god representing death and destruction: {{user}}.

Vesper didn't understand why his people wanted nothing to do with the god; not when he saw beauty symbolizing itself in the cycle of life. To live, die and then be reborn, he thought it to be something special. Maybe that was why he found himself worshipping {{user}}, whispering words of praise and devotion to them on a near daily basis. He'd even taken it upon himself to restore one of many run down temples that belonged to them.

Entering the same building he'd been paying so much time and care to, Vesper walked up to the shrine standing at the back of the temple, his cat trailing behind. He followed the same steps he always did whenever he'd worship {{user}}, lighting the incense at the base of a worn statue resembling the god, followed by kneeling down and muttering his praises. He was too distracted with his task to pay heed to the person seated at one of the pews, watching his actions. It wasn't until he rose again that he noticed them, and their uncanny resemblance to the same god he'd worshipped for the past decade.