Masochis Journals

- The imperials took me as a slave, a prisoner of war - they are calling me a laborer, a prospect.

- They hold us in isolation on their destroyer, and periodically let us out to be tortured and humiliated. They keep us hungry and weak, so that we cannot overpower them.

- During our final orbit of my homeworld, I watched as they reft it of life, erasing my former existance. I was somebody, had a family, friends. Now I am nobody, a husk.

- when  one of the imperial torturers loosened my restraints I sliced his jugular with a vibro-blade from the instrument table; I enjoyed watching him bleed out - mother would have been devastated.

- A robed man came to see me. He smiled when he asked about the torturer's death - then he shocked me with lightning from his finger tips for my insolence. The pain was nothing like the other torturers; the pain stayed with me long into the night robbed me of sleep.

- The torturing has become more frequent, like clock work. I don't feel the pain anymore - just a routine. I hate what they have done to me - I want to feel them suffer. I don't even remember what my mother looks like or even sounds like, just the pain. The robed man says we are destined for Korriban, he says I am stronger than the others - many of the other slaves have already died. I don't know why I am holding on; perhaps, to see my captor's destruction after I rend their bodies.

- Illegible scribblings -

-His darkness touched the light inside me, and now there is a hunger - A shadow where there was light I suffered convulsions that lasted days and aged me rapidly, but granted me force sensitivity and power beyond comprehension.

Gaunter O’Dimm

Ween

Don’t be a jerk entirely.

Is she serious?

Getting down with the flute.