Judging by the fact that his two halves remained connected as a whole, his sudden push with the Force had succeeded in catching the Jensaarai off guard. That was something to be thankful for, at least. His brief Force-aided flight over the landing pad soon after came to a sudden halt as his feet returned to contact with the ground, which themselves were quickly followed by his knees and left hand. A rough landing, but he couldn't feel any lasting damage, though there would be bruises later on, he was sure. Returning to his feet as quickly as his pained legs permitted, he saw the Jensaarai approaching once more; clearly any hopes he might have had about the warrior sliding all the way off the other end of the platform had been in vain.

As the armor-clad warrior drew closer, he slowly moved backward in response, resuming the defensive stance he had held prior to being unceremoniously hauled across the platform. Resilience and patience were the prized traits of a practitioner of the Soresu form, and he would not risk overextending himself in an attack until an opportune moment presented itself. Sooner or later, his foe would exhibit a flaw that he could exploit, and then he could end this foolish clash in a single move. The Jensaarai appeared to have been moving forward slightly more swiftly than he had been retreating, however, as he soon found the warrior's lightsaber blade arcing through the air toward him. Startled by the suddenness of the strike, he took another step back and swung his own blade up vertically to parry the blow. At this close a range, the tip of his lightsaber should draw dangerously close to his opponent. “Flinch,” he thought, “and give me the chance to finish this.”

Shey's realization of the Jensaarai's true intentions almost came a fatal moment too late. As it was, however, he was thankfully not taken wholly unawares by this sudden turn of events. The unnatural length of his foe's lightsaber hilt, which he now understood to be two lightsabers fused together as one, had made him take caution when he saw the tip of the lower end pointing in his direction. It had been difficult to spot accurately through the rain before, but its intended function was quite clear at this close a range. Quickly drawing on the Force, he let the energy flood through his body, accelerating his movements and quickening his perception of his surroundings.

Rather than using this boost in speed to retreat backward from the imminent skewering, he instead slid his right foot further out from his side and pivoted, spinning the rest of his body out of the space in front of the Jensaarai. Had he elected to move further back, he might have found himself dangerously close to having his back to the long drop into the dark sea. Now he would have to make his counterattack if he wished to avoid being cornered. The Jensaarai’s move had been a good one, swift and cunning, but it was a pose difficult to use defensively if the target escaped the blow. It was his best chance yet to strike. Continuing his spin, he brought his lightsaber down and around in a horizontal swing that should cut deep into the Jensaarai's back if it connected. He did not like to risk inflicting severe damage like this, but it did not appear that his chances of ending this soon were growing any greater. The slickness of the ground beneath his foot would make the exact timing and angle of his strike unpredictable, but he hoped that would work in his favor as much as it hindered him.

His lightsaber had managed to connect with his foe, that much Shey had been able to see, but any further observation from his point of view was quickly made impossible the wave of Force energy that erupted from the Jensaarai's body. Had both of his feet been planted firmly on the ground, he might have managed to escape with only being pushed back across the platform. However, his spin had not yet come to a stop, and his single foot was insufficient to prevent him from being picked up and carried by that wave. Thankfully, his spin had taken him around and behind the Jensaarai, so his flight did not end with his plunging off the edge of the platform into the sea.

Instead, his movement came to an abrupt halt thanks to one of the towers that ringed the outer edge of the landing platform. Colliding with the wall, he heard a distinct crack quickly followed by a sharp pain spreading across his chest. "Not good," he thought as he struggled to return to something resembling a defensive posture. His outstretched right hand still clutched at his lightsaber, for his failure would have been assured had he lost it to the ocean. "Feels like a cracked rib, at least one, probably more." Attempting to climb back to his feet, he promptly dropped back down to the ground on one knee. "Bad landing must have taken my right leg out, too." He cursed silently. He would be in no condition to continue the duel as things were if his last blow hadn't finished the Jensaarai. Concentrating through the pain, he drew on the Force once more, letting its flow relieve his pain and banish his fatigue. It wasn't a permanent solution, and his bones probably wouldn't be able to take another hit like the last one, but it should be enough to see him through the next clash of blades.

Easing himself back up onto his feet, he took stock of what fate had befallen the Jensaarai. Judging by the armored warrior's position, his blow had dealt considerable damage, but it did not appear to have been fatal. Not instantly, at least. Now that he had grasped the truth behind his foe's weapon, extreme caution would have to be taken to avoid falling into another trap. He had no great experience against such a weapon, and he had no wish that this be his first and last encounter with it. Advancing three short steps, he then planted his feet firmly once more and drew his lightsaber up into a horizontal guard position. He doubted his leg would last if he tried another rapid movement, even with the aid of the Force, so he would have to wait for his opponent to come to him.

A thunderclap of sound dispelled the bubbles of water, condensed into balls of solid matter. The two opponents were wounded, the Jensaarai in the back, the other from the force of the smash. The grainy illusion of Darth Insipid came into view, fading into existence slowly. The Sith Lord looked from beneath his cowl, the rain flickering off the robes despite him not actually being there.

"Mika'sai'Jeisel and Shey Pallask. One a Jensaarai, the other a Jedi. What a lovely duel, I must say. The irony of a Jedi stabbing a Jensaarai in the back was almost enough for me to hand Shey the victory. This is a very difficult duel to judge, I must say. I quite enjoyed how Mika took into account the slipperiness of the floor, and very quickly into the duel accepting a debilitating injury - and thus changing her strategies to be more Force oriented then physically - which is a fair strategy shift."

Darth Insipid turned to the Jedi. "You, on the other hand - the healer who was a duelist. Though I agree that your character wouldn't want to start the duel, but there was little reference to that fact henceforth. I would have expected more reluctance in your dueling, considering your character's mentality - less confidence, perhaps. Or at least more medical-themed metaphors and references, maybe. It was almost as if the Healer background was gloss for an atypical Jedi. I would not expect Clighal or Tekli to do as well against a Jensaarai who is more inclined to battle than anything."

"So..."

The Dark Lord shrugged. "Thus - I'll hand the victory to Mika'sai'Jeisel."

Sun. Sun and sand. They're everywhere on this planet, so different from the ones I' was once used to. There is no green here, not even in the places there should be as in other deserts because this is a blighted place. Something happened here, many years ago. Something on this planet changed and made it the barren wasteland that Tatooine has been known as for millennia. A fitting place for a Jedi who is not a Jedi. An even more fitting place for one such as me to die.

I'm sure you all know the tale. Master is different, views the tenants that have been taught since the founding of the Order as incomplete. Master is kicked out from the Order for threatening the status quo, for seeking change and growth, which without all things stagnate and die. Master leaves and starts a school of similar thought but with his teachings as the backbone of their credo. School does well, and things change for the galaxy. Surely you all know this tale, and are familiar with it. It is very true for me, all save the last part.

Sand swirls as my feet stir it, leaving little clouds behind me, making it rather obvious where I am and what direction I am headed. Fort Tusken, the place the sand people received their more common name. I know not why I go there, but it is almost as if the Force beckons me to that place. I have been there before, and it is a place of greater darkness than this planet. Many lives ended there. Many lives, like the one of my apprentice.

Fools, all of them. I saw the fall coming, I knew we had to be more proactive in the galaxy. Not always waiting for things to develop, but striking first, searching the shadows for hidden enemies. There is a saying, the best defense is a good offense. In times where your life is in jeopardy, or those who you are trying to protect, this saying has never been truer. For this I was asked to leave. For teaching this my apprentice was taken from me, and the Jedi asked me to re-immerse myself in the teachings of the Force and seek a truer path. My choice was to give up what I knew in my heart to be true, or leave in shame.

No, not in shame. Only shame in their eyes. For me it was upholding what I knew should be self evident to any but those who would blind themselves intentionally. So I took their Walk of Shame, removing myself from the Order and offering a place for any who would follow me, any who believed that the Jedi's teachings were too strict, too stifling, too outdated. My speech seemed to be for naught, until my apprentice, dear Soomala, came and stood by my side. At least she believed in me even if these others did not. Together we would do more good for the galaxy than the others combined. I knew this would happen.

Looking up I see the Fort is much nearer, and there is a darkness within the deeper darkness of the place. Something waits for me there, or maybe someone. It doesn't matter, for I will meet it as I have met all things the Force has led me to: head on and to the best of my abilities.

My head falls again, mainly to keep the glare from my eyes, partially because my mind is stuck in the past. It has been stuck in the past for years, just as I have. I will die in the past. I know this. But there is nothing in the galaxy for me now. There is no Order, as the Sith have destroyed it. There is no apprentice, for Soomala is dead. Dead.

A tear runs down my sun baked skin. My mind hurtles yet again into the past...

It was within a year after we had left. I did nothing to hide where I was, as I knew others would follow and want to learn what I had to teach. Yet none came. Soomala and I had trained, and trained, meditated and sought deeper understanding of life and our place in it. But at last the time for action had come. If no one else was to come then I would- We would show them. Soomala had agreed with me, so it was no longer my philosophy but ours.

We headed out into our new home, letting the Force lead us where it would, much as I am right now. The darkness nears, I can feel it beating at my soul, just as we neared the end of my Soomala's life. It was all too short. The perpetrator paid for it dearly, but that did not stop the blaster bolt that took her from behind. I personally killed every member of that gang that day, but my poor Soomala was dead before she even hit the ground. Feeling her brightness suddenly depart from not only the galaxy but from my senses was almost a mortal blow to me. Maybe it was, hiding as I have been these past years. Training in nothing but the blade. It is the only way I can deal with the pain, the only way I can keep going on these walks with the Force and not fall over and let the sun take me. The discipline mastering this weapon takes is all that is keeping me going. There is no Order anymore. There is no other school of thought for me to fight against. There is no school at all. A darkness that is covering the galaxy is all that remains, just as it happened before with the original Galactic Empire. Just as a darkness now covers this planet.

Finally I have arrived. The sun is nearly unbearable, having walked from just outside of Mos Eisley, and having taken much of the day to do so. There is sand everywhere in my clothing, but that is nothing new. Tatooine becomes a part of one should one remain on this planet for any length of time. I have been here for years now. I know this place, as it knows me.

Pushing my cloak aside, my hand grasps the canteen that never leaves my side when I venture into the desert. The water is sweet, life filling and for just a moment I forget all my pain in the bliss of the moment. But it is fleeting that joy, and all the hurt comes crashing back in like a tidal wave.

Replacing the container back on my belt, I know that just around this corner someone waits. The darkness they blaze out in the force is obvious, almost as if it were a fire that instead of radiating light emanated with shadow. He does nothing to hide himself, and it is rather obvious he does not mean for me to return home as the sense of him is nothing but aggression, and anticipation.

Sighing softly, my hand rests upon my lightsaber. There have been others who have tried to end my life, other Sith who have failed miserably. Maybe this one will finally succeed and put me out of my misery? But no, I do not think it is my time yet. Not for a little while. There must be something more for me to do. But I'll never find out by waiting here.

Putting my foot yet again forward I take the step into an irrevocable destiny. The moment to turn away is gone, and I rush forward to meet it as I do all things. Head long and with all of my ability.

*****

Around the corner there is a man. His clothing is simple, as he does not even have a cloak to cover his black tunic in this accursed heat. It is somewhat obvious from this that he is a stranger to this planet, and given the hollow look in his eyes that is most likely a good thing. There are sweat stains near the armpits of his clothing, the salt having made a whiter patch on the dark cloth just as it has my own. I gave up the flight suit I was so fond of in favor of simpler, lighter clothing. Linen is the friend of those who dwell in the desert, light brown linen that allows one to blend in with the sand. It is the same material as my cloak and the only two things from my previous life are my belt and blade.

He is human, but for some reason there is nothing distinct about his face, almost as if the dark has masked it from those who would try to tell who they have seen butchering a loved one. Assuming they survived at all. The shadows protect their own. As for my own face, it is plain enough to see. Gaunt cheeks with small off-white horns ringing the top of my head. Shoulder length greying black hair sprouting from midnight black skin that has had it's tattoos removed. The only color is my violet colored eyes, blazing with a light that has slowly faded over the years. Surely nothing to match the fire in the eyes of this man who has so obviously killed many, and will try to kill many more. Surely stopping this... this monster would be a good destiny, even if it ends in my death.

"Why have you come here?" My voice cracks in the middle of speaking, having gone without use for so long.. Still I will follow the Order on this particular occasion. A last respect to a thing that died hard and left little light in a rapidly darkening galaxy. That this one has had a particularly large roll in bringing that darkness is readily apparent for any who know how to look. Still, my hand resides on the onyx colored hilt of my blade. It never pays to be unprepared.

Brows knitting in surprise, there is an amazing amount of conflict in this man. A desire to kill, to have turned his back so utterly on what he once was that there is no stain of it remaining on his soul, and yet wanting to die for having done said thing. Obviously he wants to say something, the frustration for being unable to emanates from him. Frustration. What does this pathetic... no, not Sith. He has fallen farther than that. Regardless what can he know of frustration? Watching the one thing you care about dieing while you can do nothing, that is frustration. Regardless of all the noises to the contrary this thing can't know that. So few left who could.

For some reason he has yet to strike at me, yet to even move. For some reason he seems surprised to have a still unlit blade in his hand. Glancing down I note with some surprise that my own hilt is now in my hand. How did it get there? I didn't call it there. Training. All of my training is causing me to react to the threat before me unconsciously, or instinctively. It does that with anyone, because there are times in a fight that you either react or die, there is no time to think. Those are the times that the training will keep you alive. Against your own desires at times.

Another tear slides down my coal black cheek. Ignoring it my blade springs to life, a blazing orange like one of the Tatooinian suns at dusk. It does not come straight off of my hand, as the hilt is angled. Change what your opponent expects, put them on their heals from the beginning and you start out with a victory. Often times that can be parlayed into a complete one. Often times.

The smile is back. How long has it been since I smiled? My head shakes slightly, it matters not. Smiling is for those who live rather than those who train. Maybe this is what I have spent my life training for? If so I can die. I can end this existence that is nothing but pain for I am a failure. I failed the Jedi. I may not have agreed with them, but I did not want to leave. I certainly did not wish death upon them. To be almost the last of their lights left in the galaxy... I who am not even a Jedi anymore. I have lost peace, and it shall never return in this lifetime. Possibly not in the next.

A single word. "I." Nothing else needs to be said. This shadow creature, he is here to kill me. We both know it. All that remains is for the first strike to be made. For once it will not be made by me. Why should it be? Why should I waste what energies I have left on moving? I'll have to do something about that, but not yet. Wait until I really need it.

As the blade of the dark man springs to life... This was once a Jedi? Blue fire come from the hilt. For a moment all I see is that blade, mirroring my own stance. This man who has fallen so far, fallen, dare I say, even into madness was once one of the lights that blazed in the galaxy? How many of his fellows has he killed?

Looking again at his face, still obscured, still slithering about in a strange unrecognizable fashion, I see the face of a traitor.

Then the blue disappears. Confusion. There is much of it in this moment, coming from not only him but myself as well. Could this many be saved? My heart questions what my mind knows. This is not a man to save, this is a man to be put down like a mad vorskyr. While there is conflict the dark stain on his soul is one such as I have never felt before. Maybe Luke Skywalker felt something similar so long ago on his father, but I am not a Skywalker and this is not a sane man.

Why do I feel as though this man actually understands me? It is a terrifying thought, but staring into his eyes, the only facet of his face that is clear, there can be no doubt. Unnerving does not begin to cover this revelation. My eyes widen, and again I wonder... could this man be saved?

A shrug. He doesn't know any better than I. What we don't know is the true question, but that will likely remain unanswered as there is no longer time for thought of that kind.

I must admit, I did not expect it to start with something so simple as a shrug. But the sudden leap across the distance, some eight meters, is not completely unexpected. There were very few ways to cover such a distance in anything resembling a striking distance, and he knew it just as well as I.

The blue blade reignites, bathing the scene in it's cold light.

Waiting... Waiting...

Now.

Sidestepping at what seems the last moment, as my blade moves up to deflect the incoming blade harmlessly away from my body all I see is the man who killed Soomala. That is the only opponent I have fought for nearing a decade now. The impact of the blades draws me back to myself to some degree.

My legs do not stop with a single step, but continue one til there is another two meter distance between myself and Soomala's killer/the mad man. I know this is not the man who kill my Dear Soo, but I will still make him pay for her death, just as he will pay for all of the other lives this traitor has snuffed out.

Drawing on the Force, I begin to focus it into a singular move. It will take some time to complete, but I have done this enough times that my fighting is not crippled by it. And likely it is the only way this fifty-four year old zabrak will be able to kill him.

Almost unwittingly my mouth opens again, the sand from the jump being caught in the wind now pelting my cloak, "We couldn't have done this inside? Out of the suns?" Again my voice cracks a couple of times, but that is not a huge problem. It's not like he'll remember it either way.