An Awakened Soul

[Darth Snack]

*To see pitch black once more would allow the Sith Knight to sleep at peace. But there was no peace for the Sith. The pictures in Snack's mind proved that statement in the Sith Code. Pictures.... visions of death; those by his own hands, those of past friends, those of acquaintences, ...his own death. The fear, which would be running rampent in a normal person's body and mind where viod from Snack's mind. He did not fear death for everyone must die during their lives.

But what if this digs deeper than a two-dimesnional surface scratcher of the concept of Death. Maybe it has to do with the Sith ideals... all that which is evil and the bringers of destruction and death. Who knows.

The Giant Green Sith Master, Ogre Mal Pannis, carried the still unconscious Sith Knight over his one good shoulder with relative ease from the Training Grounds, where Apprentice was pitted against Master. A fight which pushed the Knight to his limits and then some.*

[Ogre Mal Pannis]

Ogre arrived in the med bay with his disciple over his shoulder. The tending droids quickly moved towards the Sith Master. Ogre forfeited Snack to them and they quickly moved the Knight to an examination/operation bay and place him on his back, beginning to examine his wounds. Another droid approached Ogre and was swatted away by a large green Hand and claw, toppling it over on its side.

“Leave me be!” Came Ogre’s stern voice, knowing that his own wounds were not so severe that they would require medical attention. His inherent regeneration abilities were already stitching the wounds and replacing the lost and or dead cells with new ones in their place.

Ogre’s hand came out again from his side and the droid was righted on it treads once again by use of telekinesis.

“Tend to him. His wounds require your attentions, not mine.” He directed the droid with a scoff of defiance and independence.

The small medical droid turned and moved towards the Knight the other droids had already begun working on. Seeing this Ogre nodded and turned to take his leave. He may not have required the aid of bacta or other medical procedures this time, but there was one thing he would require, one thing that his inherent regeneration needed from his body. It needed rest and lots of it.

The doors of the med bay slid shut behind the green Sith as he started towards his own quarters, knowing that his disciple had done well and would live to fight another day..

[Darth Snack]

* Sith. What is a Sith? Am I a Sith? I do things which warrent me being called a Sith. I've killed, destroyed, and brought pain throughout the galaxy. But am I true to my own ways?

Vivid pictures of the Jedi Temple back on Degobah filled Snack's dreams. Pictures which were all to real to him. Imbedded memories of the past, trying to mix with the future while he lay still unaware of the world around him. Warren Azzalin stood out in the murky grounds training some of his students. Nichos Marr, being one of the younger padawans at the time, lifted a rock with relative ease. JK Leia Solo and Obiwan walked hand in hand, both smiling and laughing contently. The young Snack would nod in respect to his Master before continueing on.

The Dorms. A place to meditate and hone in on your developing skills. A place to rest up from the days practices. A place to hang out and talk amongst other Jedi. A place where a Phantom haunted Snack. Calling out to him, beckoning him. He answered and soon found himself betraying all of his friends. He soon found himself walking amongst the ranks of the Sith. Back to his old roots.

But something was different. Back when Snack was first a Sith, the place seemed more dark and forboding. Evil intentions could be felt the instant one walked in the ancient doors. It was as if, now, that those evil conotatoins where drowned out by "marragie" and friendship. In fact, a good deal of those still around did not inhibbit those Sith-like feelings.

The dream, if you could call it that, faded away. The blackness turned into a blurred greenish haze as Snack opened his eyes for the first time since falling after his outburst of electrical energy when fighting against Ogre. The driods, after patching and stitching the Knight as well as they could, dumped the man into a bacta tank. The second time in a week Snack had been there. Both because of injuries substained in a fight.

Most of his injuries had permately closed up. A long scar etched along his belly from a slice which had conected steel with flesh. He could see a pinkih tint to his right arm below his elbow, from where Ogre had basically cluthed and ripped most of the skin off. Other various injuries had healed with little or no scar by now.

The medical driods helped the Sith Knight out of the bacta bath, and robed him. They apllied a wrapping bandage across most of his midsection, and on his entire forearm. Those were the two which take the most time to heal. Snack tried to take a step by himself, but almost collapsed. His injured left leg had still not healed fully, and probably would never now. The driods saw this and quickly helped Snack regain balance. The helped him walk to the cot, where Snack quickly fell to it on his back. Within five minutes, he was fast asleep again allowing those dreams to haunt him again. Maybe this time they would show their meaning.*

[Darth Snack]

*Morning rolled around normally without fault, just like every other day past. Outside it could have been gloomy. Maybe even sunny and bright. Snack did not know. But it was awfully quiet and placid in the Medical Bay.

Opening his eyes, Snack saw no one. Not even a medical driod. Were they deactivated? Who knew? Who cared? Snack felt refreshed and alive. The Darkside coursed through his body, interweeving with his blood and his thoughts. His thoughts... tainted by dreams and vioces. Dreams which posed as nightmares with no apparent answer... or question; vioces with no identity other than himself.

The Sith Knight movd to the edge of his cot and placing two feet on the cold floor, he stood up. Now he felt not so great. It took a minute for his head to reclear. In that time, he took a look at his bandaged right arm and his once again bandaged left leg. He took a nice hefty breathe of the stale air, noting that it hurt his midsection to breath like that. He felt along with his right hand from his left side to his right, and could sense through the Force the long scar left from Ogre's blade, Lucifer.*

"Sith... You are not a true Sith."

I want to be....

*He stood in thought, not really sure what to say. Or think.*

...a Sith.

*Lowering his head in deep thought, Snack began to gimp his way out of the barren room. He did not want to head to his quarters. Not now, not yet. The Council room, perhaps. To address them with what, though? Snack would have to think about that as he limped through the cooridors of the Empire.*