"Okay then, guide me, bitch," the seer spoke in his raging tone, dragging a crippled and maimed woman by her hair through the floor as she painted the floor in a crimson trail as she was pulled. "You're still alive, right? Better be..."
The seer himself, however, wasn't looking any better. He, too, was rather beaten up, bleeding, and battered, with the only clothes remaining being his pants which only clung onto his like a battered shield.
The seer dragged Yarila all the way over to the throne room where his disciple stood awaiting him.
He was an easy-to-recognize chap with his gold-woven hair and jaded eyes.
"I commend you. I wasn't expecting much of you. I'll be honest; you have delighted me with your actions terribly, And I mean that in a good way." the seer praised his disciple after coming to a pause in front of him.
