Unnamed SW fanfic that's been in my head for a long time...
Posted: 2007-09-14 07:30pm
This is a SW fic that I started about 3 months ago, and never ended up actually writing any of it down. As it is my first fanfiction that I actually care about, I plan on continuing it. (The story takes place around 2000 BBY) Enjoy!
Introduction
Light, darkness. For the past three weeks, all he could see was either an endless field of white, stretching into infinity, or pitch blackness, darkness so thick he could have sworn he could feel it on his cracked and parched skin. A rough mask covered his face, of unknown material, and it clung to his features, blocking out everything. His eyes, although open, could not see, and his arms were tied behind his back with thick rope. His legs were also bound, forcing him to either stand upright, or lay on the ground, in some obscene imitation of the fetal position. There was no sound; there were no forms in his private hell, just him and the endlessness. Even for one as highly esteemed as a Jedi Knight, it was enough to drive one mad. His body felt the need for water, for sustenance, for nourishment, but he pushed it aside, delving deep into himself, and into the protection of his own thoughts and fears. That was what he had first tried to do, after his capture, simply not eat, or drink or try to live, just give up. All that had done was forced himself into unconsciousness, where he had been treated, fed, and put back into the nothingness. He knew there was only one reason he had not gone mad during the seemingly endless torment. For all their efforts, all the drugs that he knew were coursing through his system, and all of the endless nothingness, they could not separate the Jedi from the Force. That was his final weapon, and he drew it into himself, cradling the memory of his connection to all life like a torch in a darkened hall. He could sense he was in a plain room, with a single door, but nothing else. He felt…connected to everything, but he couldn’t quite grasp it, it eluded him, always just out of reach as he tried to free himself.
However, he had one other experience for his past weeks of torment. Pain. Pain beyond any imaginable level, surpassing what a thousand saber burns, blaster scrapes, could ever hope to duplicate. They would come in, remove his mask, and torture him, nothing more and certainly nothing less. The room was kept completely dark, so even during these brief interludes, he could not see where he was, or who held him. But the pain they could inflict, oh the pain! It was sometimes done almost lovingly, a vibroblade ever so slowly cutting into his back, or the almost tender caress of a whip. These were the most tolerable, as it allowed him to anticipate the full blow, yet the amount of strength it sapped from him was tremendous. But there were other times, other times where his captors were not so kind. These times could vary from a stun baton jammed against his temple, and left there for hours, to an old-fashioned mental sword, which sliced not nearly as delicately or forgivingly. There was quite simply nothing he could do, no way to get out, his captors made no demands, never spoke to him, never required anything of him. All that awaited him was oblivion and torment. Curled into a ball on the cold, dank ground, in a room that was only god knew where in a Galaxy as vast as any ocean on any world, Jedi Knight Saroun Gan felt more alone than he had thought it was ever possible. His every teaching was seeped in the plain fact that he would always be connected, that there was some indomitable power within him that could never be subdued, but after endless void and incessant agony, he was far more than beginning to doubt this.
“…..It’s been 3 months. Where the fuck is my damn Jedi!?”
Introduction
Light, darkness. For the past three weeks, all he could see was either an endless field of white, stretching into infinity, or pitch blackness, darkness so thick he could have sworn he could feel it on his cracked and parched skin. A rough mask covered his face, of unknown material, and it clung to his features, blocking out everything. His eyes, although open, could not see, and his arms were tied behind his back with thick rope. His legs were also bound, forcing him to either stand upright, or lay on the ground, in some obscene imitation of the fetal position. There was no sound; there were no forms in his private hell, just him and the endlessness. Even for one as highly esteemed as a Jedi Knight, it was enough to drive one mad. His body felt the need for water, for sustenance, for nourishment, but he pushed it aside, delving deep into himself, and into the protection of his own thoughts and fears. That was what he had first tried to do, after his capture, simply not eat, or drink or try to live, just give up. All that had done was forced himself into unconsciousness, where he had been treated, fed, and put back into the nothingness. He knew there was only one reason he had not gone mad during the seemingly endless torment. For all their efforts, all the drugs that he knew were coursing through his system, and all of the endless nothingness, they could not separate the Jedi from the Force. That was his final weapon, and he drew it into himself, cradling the memory of his connection to all life like a torch in a darkened hall. He could sense he was in a plain room, with a single door, but nothing else. He felt…connected to everything, but he couldn’t quite grasp it, it eluded him, always just out of reach as he tried to free himself.
However, he had one other experience for his past weeks of torment. Pain. Pain beyond any imaginable level, surpassing what a thousand saber burns, blaster scrapes, could ever hope to duplicate. They would come in, remove his mask, and torture him, nothing more and certainly nothing less. The room was kept completely dark, so even during these brief interludes, he could not see where he was, or who held him. But the pain they could inflict, oh the pain! It was sometimes done almost lovingly, a vibroblade ever so slowly cutting into his back, or the almost tender caress of a whip. These were the most tolerable, as it allowed him to anticipate the full blow, yet the amount of strength it sapped from him was tremendous. But there were other times, other times where his captors were not so kind. These times could vary from a stun baton jammed against his temple, and left there for hours, to an old-fashioned mental sword, which sliced not nearly as delicately or forgivingly. There was quite simply nothing he could do, no way to get out, his captors made no demands, never spoke to him, never required anything of him. All that awaited him was oblivion and torment. Curled into a ball on the cold, dank ground, in a room that was only god knew where in a Galaxy as vast as any ocean on any world, Jedi Knight Saroun Gan felt more alone than he had thought it was ever possible. His every teaching was seeped in the plain fact that he would always be connected, that there was some indomitable power within him that could never be subdued, but after endless void and incessant agony, he was far more than beginning to doubt this.
“…..It’s been 3 months. Where the fuck is my damn Jedi!?”