Lark
Saint of the Damned
A halo of dust jumped at Lark's feet as he landed on the cracked auditorium foyer, it felt like the entrance to an orchestra hall as the droids played their instruments alongside the criminals, singing their song à deux. After the rafters had fallen onto robotic chorus below, their tune slowed down to a phase of larghetto (though not quite largo, and not nearly as slow as a larghissimo), and Lark welcomed the opportunity to dance across small piles of rubble and splinters of charred wood in l'istesso tempo with the lull of blaster fire. The metronome of the droid's steps had continued past those that had already fallen, reinforcements seeking to add a bit of rinforzando to the rapturous chords their mechanical fellows had started Da Capo. Unless something changed soon, this song would continue in simile, ad infinitum.
Fortunately, the Sith had a canto or two of their own they wanted to share.
The first was spoken in verse by the little pink-feathered hummingbird that darted around the arena, throwing her chakrams con bravura and releasing a burst of energy that knocked back additional drones, a congenial sforzando that allowed the Sith to continue their forward march deeper into the auditorium. Lark would have to be sure to commend the young virtuoso, once the final tonic had been played. For she had led the assault alongside two capable maestros in their own right, and hadn't fallen behind nearly a step. One of Lark's most consistent gripes with previous Sith factions was that they relished in punishing those who failed, but often neglected to acknowledge those who progressed forward. And yes, someone who botched a mission up should be dealt appropriate retribution. And so too should success be rewarded.
Once, while bartending on Naboo, Lark's friend Kyn talked about her Musical Theory class she was taking at Theed University. Though she took it only as an elective course to fulfill some silly degree requirement, one lecture she remembered for nothing other than it's pure absurdity. The professor told of an ancient composer that sought to create a composition with an element never before seen in any other concert, and make music with something that had never before been used as an instrument. And, of course, to do something all musicians set out to do. To make a statement.
So, as the maniacal composer led his orchestra in front of an even more ruthless dictator on the anniversary of their glorious empire's foundation, the melodist detonated a series of explosives at nearby military checkpoints near the auditorium. Perfect, chaotic strepitoso.
Kyn said that the dictator applauded, then had the composer executed. But the masterpiece had been written.
Though not as dramatic as the unnamed (perhaps fictional, perhaps not) composer, masked Alisteri sung the next lyric of the ballad, the lead conductor of the Sith orchestra. Opting to perform a cadenza, which often signaled the end of a piece of music, Haxim rushed forward alone and let out an arc of lightning, an unorthodox instrument that might have the deceased and forgotten musician nodding his head with an intrigued approval. And he wasn't the only one. That's a bit more like it, Lark thought.
Not one to leave a friend isolated in the middle of the spotlight, audience looking on expectantly, Lark dashed forward towards Alisteri's side, each taking turns deflecting blaster fire in a beautiful trill adjacent to one another. "We need to clear the hallway, lest the grubby little looters scurry away into the unknown," Lark said in his typically calm cadence. He pulled back his hand, getting ready to unleash another push towards the droids. But the criminals and their robotic servants had sung together in tandem. Perhaps the Sith should unveil their rebuttal.
Looking towards Alisteri, Lark gave a mischievous smile. "Together, on your command?" Lark asked.
Darth Strosius
Quintessa
Fortunately, the Sith had a canto or two of their own they wanted to share.
The first was spoken in verse by the little pink-feathered hummingbird that darted around the arena, throwing her chakrams con bravura and releasing a burst of energy that knocked back additional drones, a congenial sforzando that allowed the Sith to continue their forward march deeper into the auditorium. Lark would have to be sure to commend the young virtuoso, once the final tonic had been played. For she had led the assault alongside two capable maestros in their own right, and hadn't fallen behind nearly a step. One of Lark's most consistent gripes with previous Sith factions was that they relished in punishing those who failed, but often neglected to acknowledge those who progressed forward. And yes, someone who botched a mission up should be dealt appropriate retribution. And so too should success be rewarded.
Once, while bartending on Naboo, Lark's friend Kyn talked about her Musical Theory class she was taking at Theed University. Though she took it only as an elective course to fulfill some silly degree requirement, one lecture she remembered for nothing other than it's pure absurdity. The professor told of an ancient composer that sought to create a composition with an element never before seen in any other concert, and make music with something that had never before been used as an instrument. And, of course, to do something all musicians set out to do. To make a statement.
So, as the maniacal composer led his orchestra in front of an even more ruthless dictator on the anniversary of their glorious empire's foundation, the melodist detonated a series of explosives at nearby military checkpoints near the auditorium. Perfect, chaotic strepitoso.
Kyn said that the dictator applauded, then had the composer executed. But the masterpiece had been written.
Though not as dramatic as the unnamed (perhaps fictional, perhaps not) composer, masked Alisteri sung the next lyric of the ballad, the lead conductor of the Sith orchestra. Opting to perform a cadenza, which often signaled the end of a piece of music, Haxim rushed forward alone and let out an arc of lightning, an unorthodox instrument that might have the deceased and forgotten musician nodding his head with an intrigued approval. And he wasn't the only one. That's a bit more like it, Lark thought.
Not one to leave a friend isolated in the middle of the spotlight, audience looking on expectantly, Lark dashed forward towards Alisteri's side, each taking turns deflecting blaster fire in a beautiful trill adjacent to one another. "We need to clear the hallway, lest the grubby little looters scurry away into the unknown," Lark said in his typically calm cadence. He pulled back his hand, getting ready to unleash another push towards the droids. But the criminals and their robotic servants had sung together in tandem. Perhaps the Sith should unveil their rebuttal.
Looking towards Alisteri, Lark gave a mischievous smile. "Together, on your command?" Lark asked.
Darth Strosius
Quintessa
