Satúm enjoyed his day greatly. He enjoyed his mead, his women and meat,
but when stumbling past the temple stairs, he was reminded of his predicament.
'Damn.. still no offering..'
He looked at his half empty cup 'Could I perhaps.... Nah..'

'Here goes nothing, literally'
Satúm took one last swig, threw his mug on the gound, whiped his mouth and started walking up the white steps.

Satúm, calmed by the drink, walked to the alter, empty handed, he had a plan, a bold plan. quite clever he thought.
'To all the divines, whose eyes pierce clouds and flesh I call!'
He raised his empty hands to the sky
'I bring you.. NOTHING'
a confident smile on his lips
'nothing physical that is.
I offer a promise whoever will accept it!
Any promise!
Who will take my offer, oh great devines!'