I went by a myriad of names. I have seen worlds that perhaps even my own tongue, whether it be by choirs of angels or shouts of dragons can't describe....
But in this world...
The Blade of Destitution within my grasp. I walk this strange world with the prowess of my past. My blade hungers and so I feed it. Blood...
That's what it seeks....
And when my blade is of no reach...
The light is mine to mediate. It is in my power. My aim is filled with conviction.
I have no qualms obliterating those who would stand in my way. The abhorrent intentions of those who are mindless. Or perhaps those who are seeking frivolous violence.
All of my tools are weapons. All my power unsheathed even if the enemy is unworthy.
And even the gods of this land who bear their fangs at me...
They fall asunder. Every one of them will feel the venom of their own voice. They are nothing more than aesthetics for my own eyes. Feast for Muramasa.
But when the night is over, I return to my solace. The silence her symbol gives me is enough. It may not be much and she may only speak with the scintillation of the stars her symbol governs, to me, that is enough. Catharsis comes in a small gesture, but to a place filled with blood and stripped of hope... her symbol... her on the other side is enough.
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