Lark
Saint of the Damned
None of this makes any sense, Jammo thought.
The portly sheriff was weathered with time, it was getting harder and harder to keep up with the younger officers. His joints ached despite his proper physical therapy, may the Force aid him if an assailant charged at him, or a fleet-footed thief made a run for it. But with age came experience, Jammo had seen it all during his decades of service to the police force. That was the only thing preventing him from retiring. He could still help, and teach new recruits all that he could before he put aside his badge for good. Usher in a new generation of officers that would be prepared to respond to any threat the good people of Corellia faced.
But Jammo had never seen anything like this before.
The city was typically quiet, at least compared to a place like Coruscant. Sure, there'd be the occasional robbery or dispute that turned a bit too physical. But since Jammo had been relocated from Coruscant, most of his assignments had involved dealing with drunken shenanigans from local university students. Noise complaints, traffic violations, that sort of thing. Mundane, but manageable for an old soul like Jammo. Five murders in three weeks was light work in the slums and dark alleyways of a place rife with gangs and drug lords, but here? This was a town as quaint as the most autumnal meadow of flowers. The people were kind, several of his own neighbors had baked him an entire pantries worth of pastries upon his reassignment just a few years ago. Such violence had never even plagued their worst nightmares.
Jammo thought it had been over after the first murder. The killer was brought in without a fight, though no connection had yet been made between him and the woman he butchered. Intense interrogations and investigations had been taking place, but so far neither the killer nor the detectives had revealed any information that might lead to a motivation.
But then another murder. Then the third, the fourth only a day later. And now, the fifth. Jammo slowly opened the door into the house of the deceased, with his trainee Iga right behind him. She had good instincts for someone so young, though even this series of events left her disturbed.
As far as homicides went, this one was as tame as it could be. All of them had been bizarrely dull, save for the very first. Though a man's body lay on the floor, scarlet smile on his neck, there was a distinct feeling of emptiness perforating the living room. It felt as though no one had ever even stepped foot into this haunted locus, let alone killed someone during their visit. It could have been considered a suicide if it weren't for the lack of a weapon nearby. Jammo's knees quaked, it took all his willpower not to sink to the ground in despair. He could already tell this investigation would be as fruitless as all the others.
"None of the neighbors heard anything," Iga said, stifling her own sob of pain. "His name was Cenn Odhos. Construction worker for a nearby shipyard, they haven't been notified yet. Fella next door says Odhos didn't get out much, save to buy another bottle of wine or vodka. Whatever he fancied that day."
"Strange, that the home of a drunkard is in such pristine condition," Jammo remarked. The kitchen was tidy, the dishes clean. Beige carpets had been neatly vacuumed, the walls were covered in folksy paintings and mirrors. One mirror was hung directly in front of where Cenn's body had fallen, the killer would have seen his reflection as he committed such a heinous sin. One piece of art drew the sheriff's attention, though it was more scribbles than anything else. Three stick figures were drawn in faded crayon, the piece of paper frayed and wrinkled with the passage of time. A child holding hands with two figures, standing above him.
A chill of cold as frigid as ice that had never been touched by the sun's rays shot down his spine. There was still one room that neither he nor Iga had gone into. Please, don't let there be two more in there. He didn't tell Iga. If there were more bodies, one of them being a child, he didn't want her seeing them. His steps creaked as he walked down the dimly lit hallway, and he hesitated as he put his hand on the doorknob. Whispering a silent prayer, Jammo slowly opened the door.
Blessedly, it was empty of any more corpses. A colorful cradle was in the middle of the room, covered in dust. What might have once been a bright blue blanket was now muted of most of its color, cobwebs occupied the corners of the small room. And on, a small nightstand, was one final picture. Jammo picked it up, wiping away a bit of grime from the glass frame. It was Cenn, though he looked a few years younger in the photo. On his lap was a little boy, with short blonde hair and a smile that would touch even the coldest heart.
But Cenn's lips were drawn thin.
Jammo's hand shook as he gently placed the picture down. There was too much going on for him to keep track of. And even more that he likely didn't know about. Tears tried to break free and run down with furrowed cheeks, but he couldn't afford to cry. No matter how much he wanted to. He would do whatever it took to find the ones responsible for all of this madness, and bring this town the peace it deserved.
But he didn't know if he could do it alone.
It had been quiet for a while, but now as the sky grew dark more patrons gathered at the Young Lavender, a local bar that was often frequented by some of the more mellow students from the nearby University. It was well-maintained, and attracted friendly crowds. Soft melodies ambiently played throughout the elegant building, though it was meant for drinking and fraternization, Shuvro found it easier it focus on his work here, even more so than at the library. It was a soothing place, and he was happy to know that his fellow students shared his opinions. There were four of them there, they had started studying together early in the afternoon, and now the sun was beginning to set. Shuvro hadn't even noticed the hours slip by, for his peers were wonderful company. There was Ciemi, a bright young woman who shared many of the same classes as he did. She was the one Shuvro knew the best, they had been close friends ever since they began attending school here two years ago. Across from her was Wesley, though he studied a different area than Shuvro and Ciemi, he still tagged along to see what he could learn. He was a good man, Shuvro remembered he was considering becoming a pilot for the Galactic Alliance after graduation.
The fourth and youngest of the students was Piper, whom Shuvro had met through an academic program a few weeks ago. Somewhat effeminate in appearance, Wesley had initially mistook him for a woman, much to their mutual amusement. Piper was mild-mannered and well-spoken, and his long red hair draped across his shoulder like a velvety curtain. Piper and Shuvro were both among a small number of students who had the opportunity to study directly under the President of the University, Crassix Udgul. Seeing how only the students with the highest grades and most resplendent backgrounds were admitted into the prestigious program, the two had become fast friends.
Studying had been pushed aside as the sunlight faded, and soon they each had a drink in their hands instead of notebooks or data tablets. Shuvro and Wesley both rewarded themselves with a beer, while Ciemi eagerly drank her second glass of violet wine. Piper, interestingly, simply swirled a bit of tea. The scent was as intoxicating as the alcohol, there was just something about everything that young man did that drew you in.
"A shame Lugar couldn't make it," Ciemi said. "Old Crassix must be keeping him busy today. Does he normally keep either of you this late?"
"Sometimes," Shuvro said, taking a quick sip of beer. Lugar was another student who studied under Crassix, though normally not with the same group he and Piper were a part of. "Last week he didn't let us go until well after sunset. I love having the opportunity to study under such a brilliant scholar, but I'd be lying if I said it never left my mind a puddle. I can picture it now, Lugar scratching his seat, eager to bounce up and come rushing over here. A shame Professor Udgul seems more keen on longer lectures lately."
"If that's the case, Lugar really needs a drink," Wesley said with a hearty laugh. "I don't know how you two can do it. I was genuinely interested in the stuff we studied this afternoon, and my mind still wandered at times. I'd need something a lot heavier than tea, sure that's all you want Piper? I know that you do a lot of work with early education, but surely a drink or two wouldn't hurt. Those kids you help tutor won't even know!"
Shuvro turned to face the lad, whose attention had shifted towards something beautiful. Piper's eyes were illuminated by bulbs of light hanging from the walls of the Young Lavender, soft gaze in awe of the light snowfall. His doe eyes were entranced, as though he were witnessing something truly magical.
"Woah, I didn't think we were supposed to get snow this early in the year!" Ciemi leapt from her seat to press her face against the window, her breath misting against the cold glass. Piper and Ciemi shared that sense of childlike innocence, it was hard for Shuvro not to envy them.
"Apologies for getting distracted," Piper said lightly. "I just find the snow so... peaceful." A blissful moment of silence followed his words, only the light murmur of other patrons and the beautifully atmospheric music could be heard as the four students watched the snowfall.
If they could have stayed there for eternity, Shuvro would've been content. But it was getting late, and strange things had been afoot in this usually tranquil city. "I think we should get going. Its late, and with those murders still unsolved, I'd hate for the worst to happen. Piper, you're off-campus with your parents, right? The dormitories we stay in aren't that far from where you live. I'm sure none of us would mind a bit of a longer walk so we can make sure you get back safely." Ciemi and Wesley nodded their heads in agreement. Though the general mood around the town was still jovial, everyone was a bit on edge.
"I appreciate that, but I'm actually going to linger here for a bit longer. I'm expecting that an old friend of mine might be stopping by here, and I've been longing to catch up with them. But please, I urge you to travel safely. I'll try and let you know as soon as I return home."
"Please do," Shuvro said. The three then opened the tavern door and stepped out into the snow, Piper waved them goodbye from the other side of the window, taking a sip of his herbal-scented tea. "He's done pretty well for himself, seeing as how this is his first semester here. His record is spotless, his grades are top-notch, and he's one of Crassix's favorite students already. Wonder how he does it..."
"He's brilliant!" Ciemi said, though the buffet from the cold wind dampened her words. "He asked me to peer review his essay on how trauma affects early childhood development, and it was amazing. It's no wonder Crassix picked him up quick."
"Good lad, too. Young Lavender had a happy hour few days ago, drinks were real cheap." Wesley was an exemplary student in his own way, but he did tend to get distracted by drink more often then was healthy. "Partook a bit too much, but Piper took real good care of me. Reminded me that the Alliance might not stand for excessive drinking from their pilots, and encouraged me to tone it down a bit. Noticed you've been giving him a few shy looks, Ciemi."
She blushed immediately, managing little more than a stuttering rebuttal. "It isn't like that! He's... a great student, that's all. And he's helped me out a ton with my studies." Then Ciemi, being Ciemi, got a bit more heated. "Plus he's like, four years younger than me! Hell, YOU hit on him more than I ever have the first time you met him!"
The two laughed and continued their good-natured argument, but Shuvro stayed silent. He liked Piper, he really did. The kid had only ever treated him with kindness and respect. But it was difficult not to feel a twinge of jealousy. A bit of hatred that Piper didn't deserve. It all seemed to come so naturally to him.
He and Wesley made sure Ciemi got into the woman's dormitory safely, before finally welcoming the warmth of their own housing complex. They passed Lugar's room, and Wesley knocked on the door a few times, with no response. Either Lugar was still in class, which would be late even for Crassix, or had already passed out from exhaustion. The two friends wished the other a goodnight, and Shuvro finally settled down in his small room, covered with an endless sea of notes and textbooks. And as he settled in for the night, not bothering to look over any more of his study material, he tried to push aside the growing worries he had about those murders. One of the killers had already been caught.
Surely the other will be apprehended soon. Oh Piper, please be careful.
Piper watched his friends leave, and felt a twinge of sadness as they vanished into that shroud of snow. This had been such a lovely afternoon, he hadn't expected to make such genuine, cordial friendships upon arriving here. The Young Lavender was place of serenity, the soft music and the gentle snowfall made for a moment he wouldn't soon forget. He only wished that they might have stuck around for a few minutes more. He didn't blame them for leaving, of course. Already he noticed a larger crowd wandering in, though at least they seemed to respect the delicate atmosphere. It might look a bit odd for a student to still be here at this hour, but the people here were friendly.
Well, mostly.
As the town had learned, much to their horror, there were monsters that lurked even in the most tender of places. Sometimes, a monster wasn't the man hopped up on drugs, who killed to get his next fix. Nor was it the hitman, who viewed killing as nothing more than a job, or perhaps took some perverse pleasure in snuffing out the life of someone else. No, the monster could be anyone. The kindly neighbor who wishes you a good morning from their front porch while you walk your dog. The lady across the diner, flipping through the varying screens of a holopad so she could catch up with local news. It could be anyone. The monsters weren't some dark force, intent on destroying you from afar. They were among the general populace, you'd pass one and never even know it. Family, lovers, friends.
Anyone could be a monster.
Shuvro, Ciemi, Wesley. Dear friends, I hope you return home safely.
Ryv
Ripley Kühn
The portly sheriff was weathered with time, it was getting harder and harder to keep up with the younger officers. His joints ached despite his proper physical therapy, may the Force aid him if an assailant charged at him, or a fleet-footed thief made a run for it. But with age came experience, Jammo had seen it all during his decades of service to the police force. That was the only thing preventing him from retiring. He could still help, and teach new recruits all that he could before he put aside his badge for good. Usher in a new generation of officers that would be prepared to respond to any threat the good people of Corellia faced.
But Jammo had never seen anything like this before.
The city was typically quiet, at least compared to a place like Coruscant. Sure, there'd be the occasional robbery or dispute that turned a bit too physical. But since Jammo had been relocated from Coruscant, most of his assignments had involved dealing with drunken shenanigans from local university students. Noise complaints, traffic violations, that sort of thing. Mundane, but manageable for an old soul like Jammo. Five murders in three weeks was light work in the slums and dark alleyways of a place rife with gangs and drug lords, but here? This was a town as quaint as the most autumnal meadow of flowers. The people were kind, several of his own neighbors had baked him an entire pantries worth of pastries upon his reassignment just a few years ago. Such violence had never even plagued their worst nightmares.
Jammo thought it had been over after the first murder. The killer was brought in without a fight, though no connection had yet been made between him and the woman he butchered. Intense interrogations and investigations had been taking place, but so far neither the killer nor the detectives had revealed any information that might lead to a motivation.
But then another murder. Then the third, the fourth only a day later. And now, the fifth. Jammo slowly opened the door into the house of the deceased, with his trainee Iga right behind him. She had good instincts for someone so young, though even this series of events left her disturbed.
As far as homicides went, this one was as tame as it could be. All of them had been bizarrely dull, save for the very first. Though a man's body lay on the floor, scarlet smile on his neck, there was a distinct feeling of emptiness perforating the living room. It felt as though no one had ever even stepped foot into this haunted locus, let alone killed someone during their visit. It could have been considered a suicide if it weren't for the lack of a weapon nearby. Jammo's knees quaked, it took all his willpower not to sink to the ground in despair. He could already tell this investigation would be as fruitless as all the others.
"None of the neighbors heard anything," Iga said, stifling her own sob of pain. "His name was Cenn Odhos. Construction worker for a nearby shipyard, they haven't been notified yet. Fella next door says Odhos didn't get out much, save to buy another bottle of wine or vodka. Whatever he fancied that day."
"Strange, that the home of a drunkard is in such pristine condition," Jammo remarked. The kitchen was tidy, the dishes clean. Beige carpets had been neatly vacuumed, the walls were covered in folksy paintings and mirrors. One mirror was hung directly in front of where Cenn's body had fallen, the killer would have seen his reflection as he committed such a heinous sin. One piece of art drew the sheriff's attention, though it was more scribbles than anything else. Three stick figures were drawn in faded crayon, the piece of paper frayed and wrinkled with the passage of time. A child holding hands with two figures, standing above him.
A chill of cold as frigid as ice that had never been touched by the sun's rays shot down his spine. There was still one room that neither he nor Iga had gone into. Please, don't let there be two more in there. He didn't tell Iga. If there were more bodies, one of them being a child, he didn't want her seeing them. His steps creaked as he walked down the dimly lit hallway, and he hesitated as he put his hand on the doorknob. Whispering a silent prayer, Jammo slowly opened the door.
Blessedly, it was empty of any more corpses. A colorful cradle was in the middle of the room, covered in dust. What might have once been a bright blue blanket was now muted of most of its color, cobwebs occupied the corners of the small room. And on, a small nightstand, was one final picture. Jammo picked it up, wiping away a bit of grime from the glass frame. It was Cenn, though he looked a few years younger in the photo. On his lap was a little boy, with short blonde hair and a smile that would touch even the coldest heart.
But Cenn's lips were drawn thin.
Jammo's hand shook as he gently placed the picture down. There was too much going on for him to keep track of. And even more that he likely didn't know about. Tears tried to break free and run down with furrowed cheeks, but he couldn't afford to cry. No matter how much he wanted to. He would do whatever it took to find the ones responsible for all of this madness, and bring this town the peace it deserved.
But he didn't know if he could do it alone.
The fourth and youngest of the students was Piper, whom Shuvro had met through an academic program a few weeks ago. Somewhat effeminate in appearance, Wesley had initially mistook him for a woman, much to their mutual amusement. Piper was mild-mannered and well-spoken, and his long red hair draped across his shoulder like a velvety curtain. Piper and Shuvro were both among a small number of students who had the opportunity to study directly under the President of the University, Crassix Udgul. Seeing how only the students with the highest grades and most resplendent backgrounds were admitted into the prestigious program, the two had become fast friends.
Studying had been pushed aside as the sunlight faded, and soon they each had a drink in their hands instead of notebooks or data tablets. Shuvro and Wesley both rewarded themselves with a beer, while Ciemi eagerly drank her second glass of violet wine. Piper, interestingly, simply swirled a bit of tea. The scent was as intoxicating as the alcohol, there was just something about everything that young man did that drew you in.
"A shame Lugar couldn't make it," Ciemi said. "Old Crassix must be keeping him busy today. Does he normally keep either of you this late?"
"Sometimes," Shuvro said, taking a quick sip of beer. Lugar was another student who studied under Crassix, though normally not with the same group he and Piper were a part of. "Last week he didn't let us go until well after sunset. I love having the opportunity to study under such a brilliant scholar, but I'd be lying if I said it never left my mind a puddle. I can picture it now, Lugar scratching his seat, eager to bounce up and come rushing over here. A shame Professor Udgul seems more keen on longer lectures lately."
"If that's the case, Lugar really needs a drink," Wesley said with a hearty laugh. "I don't know how you two can do it. I was genuinely interested in the stuff we studied this afternoon, and my mind still wandered at times. I'd need something a lot heavier than tea, sure that's all you want Piper? I know that you do a lot of work with early education, but surely a drink or two wouldn't hurt. Those kids you help tutor won't even know!"
Shuvro turned to face the lad, whose attention had shifted towards something beautiful. Piper's eyes were illuminated by bulbs of light hanging from the walls of the Young Lavender, soft gaze in awe of the light snowfall. His doe eyes were entranced, as though he were witnessing something truly magical.
"Woah, I didn't think we were supposed to get snow this early in the year!" Ciemi leapt from her seat to press her face against the window, her breath misting against the cold glass. Piper and Ciemi shared that sense of childlike innocence, it was hard for Shuvro not to envy them.
"Apologies for getting distracted," Piper said lightly. "I just find the snow so... peaceful." A blissful moment of silence followed his words, only the light murmur of other patrons and the beautifully atmospheric music could be heard as the four students watched the snowfall.
If they could have stayed there for eternity, Shuvro would've been content. But it was getting late, and strange things had been afoot in this usually tranquil city. "I think we should get going. Its late, and with those murders still unsolved, I'd hate for the worst to happen. Piper, you're off-campus with your parents, right? The dormitories we stay in aren't that far from where you live. I'm sure none of us would mind a bit of a longer walk so we can make sure you get back safely." Ciemi and Wesley nodded their heads in agreement. Though the general mood around the town was still jovial, everyone was a bit on edge.
"I appreciate that, but I'm actually going to linger here for a bit longer. I'm expecting that an old friend of mine might be stopping by here, and I've been longing to catch up with them. But please, I urge you to travel safely. I'll try and let you know as soon as I return home."
"Please do," Shuvro said. The three then opened the tavern door and stepped out into the snow, Piper waved them goodbye from the other side of the window, taking a sip of his herbal-scented tea. "He's done pretty well for himself, seeing as how this is his first semester here. His record is spotless, his grades are top-notch, and he's one of Crassix's favorite students already. Wonder how he does it..."
"He's brilliant!" Ciemi said, though the buffet from the cold wind dampened her words. "He asked me to peer review his essay on how trauma affects early childhood development, and it was amazing. It's no wonder Crassix picked him up quick."
"Good lad, too. Young Lavender had a happy hour few days ago, drinks were real cheap." Wesley was an exemplary student in his own way, but he did tend to get distracted by drink more often then was healthy. "Partook a bit too much, but Piper took real good care of me. Reminded me that the Alliance might not stand for excessive drinking from their pilots, and encouraged me to tone it down a bit. Noticed you've been giving him a few shy looks, Ciemi."
She blushed immediately, managing little more than a stuttering rebuttal. "It isn't like that! He's... a great student, that's all. And he's helped me out a ton with my studies." Then Ciemi, being Ciemi, got a bit more heated. "Plus he's like, four years younger than me! Hell, YOU hit on him more than I ever have the first time you met him!"
The two laughed and continued their good-natured argument, but Shuvro stayed silent. He liked Piper, he really did. The kid had only ever treated him with kindness and respect. But it was difficult not to feel a twinge of jealousy. A bit of hatred that Piper didn't deserve. It all seemed to come so naturally to him.
He and Wesley made sure Ciemi got into the woman's dormitory safely, before finally welcoming the warmth of their own housing complex. They passed Lugar's room, and Wesley knocked on the door a few times, with no response. Either Lugar was still in class, which would be late even for Crassix, or had already passed out from exhaustion. The two friends wished the other a goodnight, and Shuvro finally settled down in his small room, covered with an endless sea of notes and textbooks. And as he settled in for the night, not bothering to look over any more of his study material, he tried to push aside the growing worries he had about those murders. One of the killers had already been caught.
Surely the other will be apprehended soon. Oh Piper, please be careful.
Piper watched his friends leave, and felt a twinge of sadness as they vanished into that shroud of snow. This had been such a lovely afternoon, he hadn't expected to make such genuine, cordial friendships upon arriving here. The Young Lavender was place of serenity, the soft music and the gentle snowfall made for a moment he wouldn't soon forget. He only wished that they might have stuck around for a few minutes more. He didn't blame them for leaving, of course. Already he noticed a larger crowd wandering in, though at least they seemed to respect the delicate atmosphere. It might look a bit odd for a student to still be here at this hour, but the people here were friendly.
Well, mostly.
As the town had learned, much to their horror, there were monsters that lurked even in the most tender of places. Sometimes, a monster wasn't the man hopped up on drugs, who killed to get his next fix. Nor was it the hitman, who viewed killing as nothing more than a job, or perhaps took some perverse pleasure in snuffing out the life of someone else. No, the monster could be anyone. The kindly neighbor who wishes you a good morning from their front porch while you walk your dog. The lady across the diner, flipping through the varying screens of a holopad so she could catch up with local news. It could be anyone. The monsters weren't some dark force, intent on destroying you from afar. They were among the general populace, you'd pass one and never even know it. Family, lovers, friends.
Anyone could be a monster.
Shuvro, Ciemi, Wesley. Dear friends, I hope you return home safely.
Ryv
Ripley Kühn
