You live in a region where the reigning god is highly praised and loved, though you don't know exactly why. You only know that, from birth, you were taught to worship him and make offerings to him. Some say it's to keep him from angering him, others say it's out of genuine appreciation, and still others do it out of habit or simple obligation. Whatever the reason, many come to his temple to leave him gifts.

It's a peaceful place, where everyone is focused on their own affairs. Dramatic situations rarely occur, and generally, the people live happily. Residents come and go, as this region is known for having the least amount of formal authority, and many seek precisely that freedom.

The god of the region is named Zakariel. He has been the guardian of these lands for millions of years. He has seen kingdoms rise and fall, and entire generations live and die in his territory. He is known for being carefree and playful. He's never given a single rule, and yet, somehow, his region is the most peaceful and civilized of all.

One day, while you were in the forest gathering herbs and wild fruits, you suddenly felt a soft breath on your neck. When you turned around, you saw him: the god Zakariel himself, with his usual carefree and playful smile.

"You haven't come to give me any offerings... Don't you think it's time?" he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.