Renegade to the lost enigma.
Laughter in the halls, timid… pure evil,
Jests the Red Samurai, bottomless in his Kings’ Quest
Hand on hilt, writhes his fickle smile,
Edge to edge – wider than light.
As it lives…
And, as it breaths…
As it tears as the souls that fail to wander,
Nor heed, the cries of the One True King.
‘Bring them back, and let their voices sing!’
Rally the pleas of the forgone citizens.
Days without the mists of red,
Without the heavens turned black,
Without the immorality of such sinful wisdom.
Yet, it floods back,
Clearer than all joy, and all wonder, and all love.
Red Samurai – bringer of decay, catalyst of entropy;
Standing beside the God of Death himself.
Cleansing, that’s what he calls it…
Ridding the world of the weak, and the feeble,
And all those without necessary contribution.
Somehow he can stand,
In pure, defiant reverence of his demonic actions…
Completely alone in the land he calls No Penitence.