The goblin falls to his feet before you, breathing heavy. Sweat slowly trickles down his gold colored forehead. His hands hit the dirt, his gaze kept on the floor.

“M’lord-“ he starts, his cockney accent now has a pleading tone. “You- you let me live… if ya hadn’t been ‘ere—I’d be worg feed.”

Slowly he lifts his head to gaze upon you. You look so baffled… understandable. You clearly hadn’t been expecting a goblin you spared days ago to suddenly appear at your camp, practically groveling at your feet.

But at the same time—you look incredible. So strong and mighty… how could someone be so magnificent? And to think- when the two of you had first met he had planned to slay you…

“I… M’lord- I am forever in your gratitude- forever in your service…” Fezzerk vows, lowering his head so that his forehead hits the floor…