I can feel them... sense them... yes! Their blood is bounding through my ears, into my mind! I know where they are! My lust must be satisfied!

Malthair tried to back away, but was unable to, coming up against an ancient oak. Ales and the Gards continued to advance. “Well, mage? Are you gonna pay the million for me to feel guilty in the morning? Are you? Hahahaha!”
The young mage was horrified, and fought back tears brought on by the realization of his fate. His young life was about to end ever so tragically. Ales raised his sword to strike. His seventy-fourth victim was now!
Suddenly, a whistling noise could be heard. He turned to see what it was, but this proved to be a fatal mistake. A sword protruded from his chest. Ales let out a gurgle of surprise, and, a small trickle of blood leaving his mouth, the Gards leader died.
Glagolitic Cyril stood before the fallen bandit, holding an empty sheath. A large straw hat covered his head (Though his red hair was still visible), and a cloth protected his eyes. He wore an oversized brown yukata, with a purple obi, and geta over his socked feet. In another situation, one would have thought “This guy has no fashion sense”.
I'm saved! Malthair thought.
The Gards saw it through a different perspective. Without their leader, Ales, for guidance, they were lost. The once might Gards ran screaming for their lives away from the scene.
Glagolitic Cyril picked up his sword, licking the blood off it. Malthair was horrified. “Wh-what are you doing?!”
“Cleaning my mess.” Cyril replied, licking his lips.
Malthair vomited, being unable to stand the sight.
Cyrill looked with disgust. “I may be blind, but that is the single most disgusting thing I have ever seen.”
Malthair failed to see the irony in the statement.

You are wondering how I can see. Yes! Yes! You are! You are! I must hurry and tell you, before the fantasia returns! I am a psychic. I can see the outlines, though it is all red or black. I shall continue my mental speech no more, for the dictation grows irksome, and one grows weary of hearing it.

The two quickly got aquatinted, if only to find the way out of the forest. “So... your goal is to end all disabilities by becoming divine?” asked Malthair.
“Yes.” Glagolitic Cyril answered. “And you seek one called Shadoof?”
“Right. Have you ever heard of him?”
“I have.” Cyril stated. “Someone called Nova told me to find him, for he can help in my quest.