"Lord Makareth, I submit! I'll serve you! Just spare my life, I beg you!"
Makareth planted his boot on the Demon lord's back, a savage grin spreading across his face. This was the same bastard who had constantly made his life hell, the one who had been scheming to kill him for years.
"Just your submission?" Makareth's laugh was dark and ugly.
"I'll give you everything! All my treasures, my territory... all the slaves, mines, armies, birthing pits... you can take it all!"
As he spoke, the Demon lord wretched and spat out a fleshy, stomach-like sac—his entire hoard of treasures.
"Good. You're a smart one," Makareth said, his voice deceptively calm. "I can spare your life."
He bent down and picked up the gizzard-pouch, recognizing it as a type of storage bag. A glance at its contents made his grin widen. "Lord Valova, thank you for your generosity."
SPLAT.
