Last Westgard Standing


Objective: Wake up
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24 hours had passed after Tython, almost an eternity for Silas laying in the bed. Ever since he was transported back from the battlefield the padawan had been sleeping, catching up on lost energy and wounds that the sith lord has bestowed on him. Before the treatment, he was in a very bad way. With a broken nose, multiple broken ribs, punctured lung, scorch marks, and lightsaber wounds littering his body it was safe to say he had fought for his life that day. Thankfully, once the medical team began patching him up they were able to get him stable soon enough.
"It's time to wake this young man up don't you think?" the doctor said to his assistant, who was carrying a datapad to write down any notes for when he was finally awoken. Throughout the hours Silas had been waking up and passing out again, all because his body was shutting his body down to get more sleep out of all. The doctor was sure he had enough time to rest and lightly shook him on the shoulder "Silas, do you hear me?" he said softly. Slowly, the padawan's eyes fluttered. The brightness of the room forced them to readjust as he opened them halfway up to the doc.
"W-who... who are you" was the first thing he croaked that came to mind while his tired face studied the doc above him "My name is Doctor Hayfield, and you my friend are one lucky kid," he said back to him as he pulled out a medical flashlight and shined it into his light blue eyes. Silas squinted his eyes squinted instantly in response and sulked, thoughts elsewhere reminding him of his failure.
"How lucky exactly..." the boy's hoarse voice said to him. The doctor was hesitant in telling him at first, but after all he went through Silas deserved to know "Upon breaking multiple bones in your ribcage, fragments of those punctured into your lungs. Many were lodged deep, and if you were out there any longer your body wouldn't have been able to generate enough air to keep it functional. Someone must have been watching over you..."
"Thank you, mom and dad..."
"However, I am pleased to say you'll make a full recovery. All you need is some rest before we can discharge you and make sure not to move too much, those ribs of yours will be quite delicate and sore." He said to him, patting Silas lightly on the shoulder as he backed away from the bed and discussed a few things with his assistant. After a minute or so he smiled at the boy and took his leave. Sighing to himself he frowned and glared at the white wall, bored and lonely in his room.
Did the Nobles get out fine? was Tython saved? a multitude of worry and unanswered questions swam around his head. There was only one problem, he dreaded finding out the answers.