Ravorp had been on Brentaal for three days, having hitch-hiked half way across a trade route just to get here. The youngin' had spent those three days like he had all the tomorrows in the world. In a way, tomorrow was what you made it. Tomorrow would be tomorrow, so therefore tomorrow really didn't come, because it would always be the day after. It was some strange logic he had learned on a small moon deeper in the core. Na, it didn't do him much justice either.

But his recent time and actions, or rather lack of actions, had allowed his thoughts to wander to ideas he had actually thought he had forgotten. All the important stuff was still up there, somewhere, it seemed.

The people of Brentaal were rather industrious. Everything seemed to revolve around commercialism of somesort. But, on his many travels, he found it wise not to denounce other people's governments and ways of life. If often worked better than that of the bigger, interplanetary governments.

And yet, there was something wrong. Something dire. Ravorp could sense the heavy atmosphere in the shanty-town in which he had took up recent residence. He could grasp at the mood, literally, with his fingers. The shanty-town, Dust Town it was called, was a shy little place, not wanting of outsiders. A closely knit community, most things here were carried out unseen by the government policing agencies that had a bigger presence in the more affluent areas. I suppose that's for the best.

The town contained half-a-dozen shacks, rather organic like, surrounding a tavern central to the town. It was the life-blood of the entire place. The food there was quite nice too.

So, it was with surprise that Ravorp found it nearly empty today.

The young man took his time to take in the small common room, usually full of punters from Dust Town and its suburbs. Empty; why? Even the barman wasn't there. The place was just empty.

Ravorp usually spent his time here meeting those few friends he had made in his short stay, but even they weren't present. Taking the situation in his stride, Ravorp took a seat on his usual table. Right now, there'd be talks of work through the day, any gossip that seemed important or, as the fishwives were also often present, was indeed not important in the slightest. After some hot dinner, the drinks began to come in.

And that would be his night. Without stress, without saving the galaxy... just having a nice time with those that he cared about.

Strange, he had always thought Jedi weren't allowed to care for others. Too much emotion involved which often led to irrational thinking and therefore the Dark Side, but Ravorp saw it completely different. Jedi were defenders of justice and keepers of the peace. In a way, they had to be compassionate about every single living being in the galaxy. Wasn't being compassionate also caring?

Such thoughts were quickly expelled from his mind as his imagination wandered. He found, without sonic stimulation from the music or the hearty laughter of the punters, that his mind wandered to places that he wouldn't have went normally. Like yesterday.

As such, Ravorp's mind was pretty vivid when it came to memory. Perhaps it was a force-enhanced thing? Anyway, Ravorp found himself stepping through the parted automatic doors of the tavern. Immediately the atmosphere enveloped him. People were enjoying themselves, and in a universe such as this, it was infectious. It jumped from one to another. An old cobbler laughed at some un-heard joke, to which Ravorp began laughing too. Happiness. Wonderful.

All kinds of smells assaulted him, laying him defenseless as the many aromas from the kitchen undressed his stomach, taunting him. He was hungry.

Ravorp looked around, seeing his friends at their usual table. He nodded to those who knew him as he went by, quickly taking a seat and acting as if he grew up in Dust Town. He wished he had. "And then she said," began Morrigan, her dry sense of humour always a favorite. "She said 'please, rid me of this demon. It cannot even make a good impression of my mother. Even she wasn't this annoying!'"

The entire table broke out laughing, Ravorp with them.

With a smile on his face, he was drawn back to the present, the tavern seeming even more empty than before. What was going on?

But what was that?

A flicker of a banner hanging on the western-most wall, depicting the Paragon Shaina, Dust Town's own little 'living' legend. As Ravorp knew it, Paragons were basically living saints without any religious connotation. Yep, that did make sense.

But with the door shut and no one around, that banner shouldn't have moved at all. With nothing else to do but to wallow in happier times, the young and astonishingly handsome man stood up, stretching slightly, and headed to the wall. The brickwork was shabby, hastily painted with some bricks even missing.

There! Another flicker.

Ravorp's brow furrowed, putting out a hand. Slowly, he reached for the 'tapestry'. In one swift motion, he pulled it back, ready to catch something clandestine. Light from a distant glowstick permeated the darkness, showing the outlines of an arch.

Okay, now something was definitely going on! Ravorp pulled the banner all the way across. There was no breeze, so it had to be a dead end. A little store room, maybe? He tentatively made his way into the darkness, his eyes managed to make out sharp edges and the like of the poorly carved cave, but he didn't eat many carrots as a child. Technically, the locals were mandalorians, or under mandalorian rule. He still hadn't scratched the surface of public opinion here on Brentaal.

A small stone lay unseen in his path, and he kicked it as he walked. "Bugger!" He whispered to himself, holding his breath and awaiting whatever carnage would befall him as an intruder. Nothing happened. After a while, he let out the breath he forgot he was holding, and continued. As he felt his way through the 'cave', whose walls were definitely stone of some kind, the light began to get brighter and flickered more, as if objects were moving in front of it to create a shadow. People?

Ravorp really wasn't prepared for what happened next.

There was laughing and the clinking of glasses, and the atmosphere was permeable. Men in cloaks were merry with their wine and spirits, and Ravorp found it infectious. He walked in, not as if he was disturbing something, but as if he were late. His grin was from one ear to the other.

And, in fact, he was treated as such. Slaps on the back, large bear-hugs and the shaking of hands ensued as he was assaulted by welcomes. The young man took himself a seat and, somehow, ended up with a large pale of cider. Nom.

The drinking session turned out to be not one of paralegicness. Indeed, no one was off of their rockers this night. They were just all very happy, something was being celebrated. Ravorp simply wondered what.

Morrigan was their, her laugh was unmistakable, and yet Ravorp didn't want to disturb her. She was with another man, quite tall and handsome. Ravrop grinned with happiness for her. It was... intoxicating. He even thought about brining up the issues of Dust Town, but then his heart told him firmly no. Who was he to spoil all these people's night, simply for some attention that could be gained another, less happy day?

He was, in fact, only one man. One former Jedi.

I was a Jedi, he thought.

There. I said it, erh, thought it. I was a Jedi.

He was once a Jedi Knight, but now he was an ordinary man with a purpose. He was to continue with the code, but not with the fighting. His responsability was to live life happy and help others the best way he could, not kill others in the 'defence' of justice. Justice wasn't justice to those on the other end of his lightsaber, was it?

Those people who fell for the preservation of peace - they had families. They were someone's son, daughter, father, brother, mother, sister, lover. Someone was always suffering an injustice somewhere, sometime.

Ravorp had seen the truth, and had turned from the exceptionally flawed path of the Jedi and swapped it for - what? For inner peace? For his own happiness?

He just didn't know yet. He wanted to live for others, not for the Jedi.

But that was before the Sith came.

Ravorp found his thoughts darkening his own mood, and swapped them out for more happy memories. Like the first time he brought a Nuna home and kept her as a pet. Lasted thirteen years! Like the first day he rode in his fathers airspeeder, the wind whistling through his ears, and his father's adoration on his shoulder.

That brought a smile back onto his face.

More laughing preluded the new guests. But these guests had nothing to do with having fun. The room went silent as the populace of the clandestine tavern meeting realised the newcomers weren't visiting; they were intruding.

Ravorp cast his blue eyes on them. Black cloaks with shades of grey draped over their shoulders and flapped about their ankles. Fine leather boots tapped in time as the four auspicious figures made themselves known. Their faces were hidden by threatening cowls. Ravorp couldn't recognise them, and yet he had seen their type before.

Sith.

No one spoke as the forwardmost newcomer spoke. His voice a quiet one, and yet it was as if he were bellowing in their faces.

"Where is he?"

No one answered. Everyone was waiting for the name of whom they were searching for. Ravorp could almost hear all the women let out a sigh of relief as the pronoun 'he' was mentioned.

"The Jedi."

That was from someone in the tavern - the voice excited with worry and fear. Confusion rippled about the room as all four cowls moved scarily simulaneously to cast their gaze upon the man who had spoke up. Who would speak up, in face of such terror?

Who would speak up?

With a sinking feeling of the 'end', Ravorp found himself looking down an accusing finger pointed right at him.

Uh oh.

Morrigan burst out laughing. "Pfffft, Jedi? Do you honestly think we'd keep such company around? Do you honestly think that I'd want to sleep with a Jedi? The entire idea is completely and unfathomly laughable!"

No, they didn't sleep together. Morrigan was protecting Ravorp, and a twinge of guilt ebbed in the young man's mind. What if these people get hurt because of him?

The cowls remained motionless, as if the four beings cloaked in black were talking through some unknown means to the meer mortals present. But Ravorp knew. He knew.

He had been a Jedi. There was nothing more Jedi-like about him than any others in the room. Well, that wasn't true, but it was a dangerous situation with dangerous people in the room, hunting for Jedi. That made him a target whether he liked it or not!

After what seemed like an eternity, one of the cowls fluttered as the other spoke; "With the authority given by the Dark Council of the Sith Order, you are condemned to death, Jedi, for crimes against the Order."

He paused for a second, and Ravorp was sure he could hear a grin forming.

"Effective immediately!" The other finished, producing a glittering silver hilt from nowhere and erecting his crimson-blood lightsaber blade with a snapp-hiss.

But Ravorp had already moved. He had moved within the crowd as all hell broke loose - screaming, pushing and shoving reigned and gave Ravorp the cover he needed to get away.

It was hard making progress under such circumstances, and the ex-Jedi was vaguely aware that the entrance to the 'cave' was indeed the only exit aswell. Ravorp had nowhere to run.

With a snarl, he heard a whimper and the distince sound of lightsaber cutting through and cauterising flesh as the four Sith made their way into the room, frustrated at the blockage.

One by one, the other three Sith took hostages. These guys were well versed in the art of fighting - instead of wasting time with murdering everyone to get to Ravorp, who was now pushed against a wall with nowhere to go - they took innocents in the hopes that the Jedi would give himself up.

Ravorp was no longer a Jedi, but he couldn't abide by that kind of savagry. "Alright, alright!" He yelled, holding his hands in the air. "Kill me! Don't hurt the others," it was almost a whimper. Ravorp had faced death many a time, but he had been fighting then. Now, helpless, it was entirely different. Death seemed to laugh at him, proding him with very sharp fingers. His mind went cold and water seemed to drip down his spinal cord.

He wouldn't die an equal on a battlefield, but an invalid with his friends around him. Which would you prefer?

The major Sith moved forward, lightsaber held high.

But the hit never came. Ravorp didn't feel pain, or abstractedness as his spirit left his body for a higher plane. Realising he had squeased his eyes shut, he opened, blinking away last-second tears of regret.

Morrigan was standing, hands outstretched, panting through effort.

And the major Sith was spread on the floor, lightsaber lost from his grip. He clambered up quickly, recovering from shock more than anything else. "How dare you..." He said, snarling and thrusting his fingers forward.

With a cackle, red-white lightning lanced from the tips of the apendages, arcing towards Morrigan. Ravorp could hardly watch, and yet out of morbid curiosity he had to. He couldn't look away.

But, apprently, there was no need to. Morrigan moved elegantly, slapping the lightning away with her hand. It arced towards the wall and exploded in a red cloud of dust and minute debris.

Ravorp was smiling, but he didn't know why.

The battle ensured quickly, the other three Sith now joining. Ravorp launched himself to Morrigan's side, helping her deflect force-thrown debris and people with his own force aptitude. It seemed to be a battle of force-knowledge rather than anything else. No lightsabers were in sight. The Sith's pride had been damaged, and they wanted to repay that feeling in full.

Ravorp caught a force-thrown brick in the air in a tight grip, spinning it with the force.

"Don't make me!" He yelled.