The Songstress Reborn
It took three cantinas more before violence erupted around the Songstress, finishing her bottle of red wine as the show got started. Fools in the streets, a slaughter, and the smart criminals hiding away to escape their gaze. It was exactly what they had wanted, chaos. The fools tried to crush spirits with force, something only the weak would falter to. Yes, a man could bend to one stronger, but to hold cities, planets, sectors, a more measured approach was necessary. She chuckled as she considered their failings as an empire, the fault in their methods, her violet regalia fluttering around her lightly as blaster fire and violence continued around her.
Yes.. they had learned well to wield the whip. But they knew not how to cultivate, to guide the people into desiring to serve. Fear was a useful tool, but in such quantities it only stewed rebellion. She had no doubt this would result in their utter failure, as people rose up against them in fear and hatred. Malachor was not unique in such a respect, the will of people could die but fear could soon backfire with ease. No, they must fear you, and yet desire your guiding hand. To make works to outlast one's self, both whip and gentle hands must be present.
As she stepped over another corpse, a soldier dared to try and stop her. She easily sidestepped his attempt to shoot, and she sent a bolt of lightning into his chest, sending him flying back in shock. No doubt other soldiers would be notified, by his scream over the comm system no doubt, but she welcomed the opportunity. She clucked her tongue as she wandered over the corpse, twisting his neck with a flick of her hand. Not a drop of blood on her, as befitted her.
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Some time later, she began to grow amused, grabbing one soldier with the force and casting him aside. She was not the strongest in the force, yet, but these soldiers were woefully ill prepared for someone of her refined skillset. Even without her original strength, she was plenty capable of tending to these so eager, violent individuals. Had they earned her mercy? Hardly, though it was nothing personal. She came to help her ally, and the exercise in violence certainly helped her in turn. She'd managed to slip by more soldiers than she should've, and broken one or two of their attempts to barricade the streets and contain the fleeing people. Did it help? She doubted it, but it amused the ancient, dark being.
Eventually she came to observe an interesting sight... a large cylinder of light that cut apart a crowd, how curious. She wandered closer, only to find herself staring directly at a woman in the middle of soldiers moving to disperse the crowd. She couldn't help but smile, now this was a change of pace. She calmly began to wander forward, her hands held behind her as the violet regalia's cape fluttered behind her. "Quite the display my dear. Pointless, but quite the show none the less.." One soldier attempted to turn their weapon on her, only to find his blaster had been sent flying away. The crowd that fled took the opportunity, slipping into cracks when they could, and some even lingered to observe the violet clad woman.
"However, such displays are only a momentary distraction, a fleeting delight. I must wonder now, are you the kind to hide in comfort behind their soldiers, until the very last, or are you capable of handling a single woman yourself?" Her words were mocking, of course, but bought her time to sense where each soldier was in relation to herself. She took a gamble, stepping into the open, but it wasn't as though she couldn't handle the fodder if she had to. On her hip rested her weapons, the sith blade, and her saberstaff. Both them, and her short body, radiated with darkness, betraying the fact she held more power than she let on.
[member="Neesa"] | [member="Darth Abyss"]
Yes.. they had learned well to wield the whip. But they knew not how to cultivate, to guide the people into desiring to serve. Fear was a useful tool, but in such quantities it only stewed rebellion. She had no doubt this would result in their utter failure, as people rose up against them in fear and hatred. Malachor was not unique in such a respect, the will of people could die but fear could soon backfire with ease. No, they must fear you, and yet desire your guiding hand. To make works to outlast one's self, both whip and gentle hands must be present.
As she stepped over another corpse, a soldier dared to try and stop her. She easily sidestepped his attempt to shoot, and she sent a bolt of lightning into his chest, sending him flying back in shock. No doubt other soldiers would be notified, by his scream over the comm system no doubt, but she welcomed the opportunity. She clucked her tongue as she wandered over the corpse, twisting his neck with a flick of her hand. Not a drop of blood on her, as befitted her.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some time later, she began to grow amused, grabbing one soldier with the force and casting him aside. She was not the strongest in the force, yet, but these soldiers were woefully ill prepared for someone of her refined skillset. Even without her original strength, she was plenty capable of tending to these so eager, violent individuals. Had they earned her mercy? Hardly, though it was nothing personal. She came to help her ally, and the exercise in violence certainly helped her in turn. She'd managed to slip by more soldiers than she should've, and broken one or two of their attempts to barricade the streets and contain the fleeing people. Did it help? She doubted it, but it amused the ancient, dark being.
Eventually she came to observe an interesting sight... a large cylinder of light that cut apart a crowd, how curious. She wandered closer, only to find herself staring directly at a woman in the middle of soldiers moving to disperse the crowd. She couldn't help but smile, now this was a change of pace. She calmly began to wander forward, her hands held behind her as the violet regalia's cape fluttered behind her. "Quite the display my dear. Pointless, but quite the show none the less.." One soldier attempted to turn their weapon on her, only to find his blaster had been sent flying away. The crowd that fled took the opportunity, slipping into cracks when they could, and some even lingered to observe the violet clad woman.
"However, such displays are only a momentary distraction, a fleeting delight. I must wonder now, are you the kind to hide in comfort behind their soldiers, until the very last, or are you capable of handling a single woman yourself?" Her words were mocking, of course, but bought her time to sense where each soldier was in relation to herself. She took a gamble, stepping into the open, but it wasn't as though she couldn't handle the fodder if she had to. On her hip rested her weapons, the sith blade, and her saberstaff. Both them, and her short body, radiated with darkness, betraying the fact she held more power than she let on.
[member="Neesa"] | [member="Darth Abyss"]