Food For Thought{Pt.2}

[The Hound]

{Placehold}SnapHiss.

Two white blades erupted from the young man's lightsabers, the low hum of the two blades filled the room. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he centered himself and preapared himself for the training ahead of him. His last training session saw multiple burns on the training suit the Conclave had provided. Using two blades was more difficult than he had thought and the movements of Jar'kai...Well lets just say he wouldn't be using both blades any time soon.

"Activate, training protocol 3" Once again, Turin was wearing the blinding helmet, though this was not a full head version, only blocking vision. After all, he couldn't be too careful. The droids began to whir as they activated. As the two droids clunked around him and darkness clouded his vision, he allowed the Force to flow, and with it, his body.

Let the training begin.

 

[The Hound]

Sizzle! Snap!

The sound of lightsabers clashing echoed in the training room Turin had taken up, his heavy breaths filling in the gaps of sound from the battle. Jar'kai was taxing on the body, and the blows he recieved from the training sabers as well as his own weren't exactly helpful either. Fortunatley he was dealing his fair share of parries, though the relentlessness of the droids was keeping him from landing anything but a grazing blow.

Sweat dripped from his brow as his thoughts drifted to Sophia and what she had said to him. And that was it, concentration broken the droids took the opportunity he left open to strike, and strike they did. Several blows to the chest, stomach, and arms. He felt the wind leave his lungs as he fell to the ground, the simulation disabled.

 

[The Hound]

Removing the helmet, or attempting to, proved useless. He groaned in pain from the stun baton-strength practice sabers. Barley able to get up, he wobbled over to the couch that circled around the training room. With a grunt and extreme concentration, he used the Force to lift the helmet away from his sweat drenched face. His blue eyes glanced over at his two lightsabers. Maybe another day...But now. He just wanted to sleep...

Falling over, onto the plush couch, the Knight fell asleep, despite the injuries sustained.

 

[The Hound]

Huff. Puff.

His breathing was heavy in the thick dark smog that seemed to rip the air from his lungs. It was hard for him to breathe here, where ever here was. What he did know was that the Dark Side was strong here. Readying his weapons out of fear, he looked down to see a strange red and black battle skirt covering his steel toed boots. Whipping his head to the side, a long lock of hair flipped, landing in his eyes. Hair?

His amazement was cut short as a red blade cut through the smog. Instinct kicked in and he ignited both his his sabers. Red blades extended from the dark hilts. Confusion filled his mind as fear started to creep up his back like a Dathomiri leech. Muscle memory kicked in as the fight began, the dance of Jar'kai begining between the two. He didn't know what was happening, but he felt angry, betrayed, and afraid.

Another, larger figure rose from the dark, brandishing a massive sword. He fought the two now, his dual blades carving red lines through the smog. The rage intensified as the fight became more and more challenging. Severing the hand of the larger assailant, he turned his full attention to the the smaller figure, swinging his blades in anger, rage fueling every strike.

As the final blow crossed through the attacker's neck, Turin awoke in a cold sweat. Looking outside, he realized that night had fallen on the Conclave. He would meditate on his vision later, but now...He was tired, despite the nap and nightmare.