Goodwood

"How do I feel?" Ben'a asked in a low voice, more to himself then to anyone else. "Such an interesting proposition considering...I feel as though this is a huge waste of time -- " his snickered aloud for a moment, nodded, then regained his composure, putting his twitching lekku back underneath his robes. "My apologies. Sometimes we Jedi take ourselves too seriously." He turned back to face Tares. "To be honest, I am already beginning to appreciate what it is to think over a situation before taking action. Rashly leaping into battle can be a costly mistake, and I am beginning to learn how to take the initiative when violence becomes absolutely necessary. I was recently engaged in thwarting an attack by Ewok warriors back at Theed...that's what took me so long to get back here. I was always in control for that particular fight, but considering that they were using reletively primitive tactics, it was not that difficult."

"I am not in the business of forcing people into anything they do not wish to undertake, Leo," Ben'a replied, his voice even. "I was simply stating a fact; that the Order has a concern for you and your compatriots. I have already given aid to one of the lost, who had been locked in mortal combat with a Master of the Sith Order...but I am not here on any sort of rescue mission." As he finished that sentance, Ben'a noted the arrival of Master Vortex. He nodded knowingly at the elder Jedi, acknowledging that he was ready to continue with his lessons. "I am sorry, Leo, but we do have business to attend to. You are welcome to join us, if that is all right with Master Tares..."

((Three days, Fuzzy...)) The blowing snow was doing the job Ben'a had intended it to do; the whirling spray of crystallised water was pelting the remaining Ewok warriors, keeping them huddled together and unable to harm anyone else. It also had the benefit of dousing some of the nearby fires, but by now, Theed emergency services had been called to the scene, and were doing an admirable job of restoring order. After about an hour, a security force of some one hundred volunteer militia had shown up to capture and contain the seven creatures, sedating them with powerful drugs before hauling them off to a nearby prison where the authorities would try to get some answers out of them. Ben'a was not expecting them to talk, however, and he soon took his leave of the guards as they carted the three-foot terrors off. The officer in charge, a tall, muscular and dark-skinned man in his thirties, thanked the Jedi Knight, extending his hand in gratitude. "You have our thanks, Master Jedi. If you had not interceded, then the damage could have been much more catastrophic. The Queen will be notified, of course, I have little doubt she will wish to--" Ben'a held up a hand to interrupt the officer in what he hoped was a polite gesture. "It is alright, Major, I was only doing what the Force asked me to do. Tell Her Majesty that I was grateful to be of service...this is a beautiful world, and ill-deserves to be scarred by senseless violence like what has happened here. I wish to be of help in the cleanup and rebuilding, I am skilled in the healing arts, and may be of some use." The officer, who seemed to have never met a Jedi before, nodded appreciatively, but as he looked back up, Ben'a was nowhere to be seen. Taking the opportunity to part company, he had dashed off to see what he could do for the wounded. About five hundred yards from where a squad of security volunteers were gathered around the Ewok's transport craft, preparing it for impounding, a makeshift triage ward had been set up in an empty warehouse that had escaped extensive damage. Several Naboo had been laid out on stretchers in a corner of the vast floor, and when Ben'a enquired to one of the doctors that had arrived to help, he was told that they "are beyond help, all we can do is make them comfortable." "Let me have a look at them," he said to the woman, who seemed more interested in tending to those who had a chance then bantering about with strangers in cloaks. She didn't seem to mind, and made her way off without another word. Ben'a took the hint, and strode over to where the dozen citizens lay, moaning lowly to themselves, racked with pain from burns. Ben'a knelt down in the middle of the gathered litters, and began to extend his Force-presence, slowly reaching out to the assemblage of patients, willing them to live, and working with their bodies to promote the healing processes inherent in them. For every "hopeless case" that was brought into the temporary triage center, he repeated this process, using his powers to ensure that everyone brought in could have a chance to live. It was well into the next day that finally, bruised and exhausted from his battle with the Ewoks, and his time in the triage wards in the attack's aftermath, Ben'a Solo was able to leave the city of Theed. The attack had been a dastardly one; nearly a hundred citizens had been slaughtered senselessly, with another twelve hundred wounded in various states of severity. But Ben'a knew that if it had not been for his timely intervention, the casualties could have been much higher, and many more would have died had he not stayed to aid those he could. It was as the sun was setting that he left; Ben'a had not wanted any sort of publicity for what he had done, so he politely declined the Queen's request for an audience. He still had to meet Tares Vortex at his villa, a place where he had been before. But if there was one thing he could take with him, it was those healing tears. This newfound manifestation of his long learnings in the Jedi knowledge vaults of Ossus would prove to be handy indeed in the future, that much was for certain. One Jedi healer in particular, he knew, would be most eager to learn this technique, and how to use it. But that was a task for another day, for now, he had to get back to his learnings with Tares, using the Force to find his way back as he flew on behind the controls of the Millennium Skyray. When he arrived and landed, Ben'a shut his vessel down and dismounted, striding casually into the villa as he looked for the Jedi master. But there was someone else here, another Force user, and by the aura he projected, Ben'a could sense that he was a Jedi with questions. "Greetings," he said, extending his hand in a friendly fashion. "My name is Ben'a Solo. Some of us have been looking for you and your companions..."

As the Sith and Jedi engaged in battle before him continued their struggle, Ben'a heard a cry through the Force -- a desperate yell of death and suffering -- coming from the nearby city of Theed. Something had gone horribly wrong, and Ben'a knew that he had to investigate the disturbance, and prevent anything worse from happening. But he couldn't just leave this fight behind...he was determined to do his bit for Andon before seeing to other things. He screwed up his face in concentration, and sent a powerful blast of Force energy straight at the Sith master as he advanced upon the Jedi Knight that was his target. The dark warrior was knocked hard from of his feet, and sent flying, where he crashed into a thick tree about ten yards back from where he had stood. Without waiting to see the results of his actions, Ben'a high-tailed it out of the grove and back to his ship. Using the special cybernetic link implanted within his brain, the Jedi had the vessel powered up and ready to fly the instant he was aboard. With a burst of speed, the Millennium Skyray streaked off towards the Naboo capital, covering the distance in about five minutes. The sight that greeted him nearly made him gasp... ...thick black smoke was rising from a city that had been covered in some white substance that looked like snow, but that couldn't be right. Theed never saw snowfall. As he flew closer in, Ben'a saw the true origin of the cry for help; a large space pod of some sort was spewing a steady stream of napalm over the city, catching homes, stores, and many public buildings a furious blaze. At the same time, Ben'a could feel the presence of several small, diminuative warriors, though he could not immediately tell just who or what they were. The time to take action was now, however, and with several shots of his ion cannon and forward quad laser battery, he had the flamethrower, along with the rest of the ship, disabled. It was a feat of master gunnery only a highly-trained Force-user could accomplish without collateral damage, but accomplish it he did. With their vessel disabled, the warriors on the ground gave an angry yell, and began to brandish their weapons even more fiercely against the fleeing citizens of Theed. As he flew over the city, Ben'a knew that to end this dance of destruction, he would have to take them on face-to-face. He landed his ship on a nearby rooftop that had as yet remained untuched by the unfolding disaster, and emerged, clad in his black cloak with lightsaber drawn and activated. Several of the short, but stubbern warriors, who turned out to be Ewoks clad in red suits trimmed in white, began to converge on his position as he lept down into the fray. The nearest two bore down on him with what looked like red-and-white striped shepard's crooks, but before they could land a blow, the weapons were cleaved in half, along with their heads. This was no place for dwelling on the necessity of lethal force...these crazed and frenzied Ewoks were demonstrating the need for it far more effectively then he possibly could by trying to argue the point later. By the time he had bisected his third antagonist, the rest of the invading Ewok force had noticed the pressence of the Jedi Knight, as he wreaked havoc in the midst of their own attempts to do so. But what really ticked them off was when they noticed that their ship had been completely disabled, and in waves, they intended to inflict their bloody revenge, but they were no match for Ben'a Solo as he advanced, determined to put an end to the violence. In small knots at first, and then in a unified charge, they brandished their candy-cane cudgels, screeching their high-pitched war cries as they attempted to bludgeon the Jedi to death. But Ben'a was able to stay well out of range of the three-foot terrors, using Force-feats to keep his distance, occasionally using his lightsaber to deprive an Ewok warrior of his weapon arm, or to pierce another that got too close through the heart. About ten of the diminuative fighters managed to corner Ben'a as he continued to draw the lot away from the still-fleeing populace, but they were sent flying backwards by another powerful Force-blast. Several of the Ewoks had been knocked out cold, but others managed to get up to charge again at the Jedi, but he was no longer there. Ben'a had used the moment of distraction to leap out of the way, landing on the roof of the building he had been standing in front of. Once there, he peered out with his Force-sense, to get a beed on how many of the ravenous runts from Endor remained. About seven out of the original twenty-five were still able to fight, and Ben'a had them right where he wanted them. Reaching out with the Force, he picked up the winds and sent what turned out to be real snow flying all about the primitive, yet annoyingly aggressive, fighters, blinding them with the unfamiliar substance.

With the Jedi Knight lovingly manipulating her controls, the Millennium Skyray decelerated out of hyperspace, and into the atmosphere of the peaceful, green world of Naboo. If Ben'a could have chosen a permenant home for himself in the galaxy, this planet would be it. His visage was relaxed, yet his eyes and Force-sense were still open and receptive as he flew in a gentle glide through the blue sky, towards the capital of Theed, and points beyond. The place he was going to was familiar to him already, as he had been there before with his last Apprentice -- the redeemed Nahstaa -- and had trained him for a time. It seemed an appropriate place to learn control. But as he passed over the city and some of the outlying areas, he sensed something horribly wrong. There was a whisp of darkness in the Force as he passed over an area of recently burned and desicated woods and gardens. Something -- or someone-- powerful in the Dark Side was nearby. Reckless... The voice had spoken in his ear as he turned the ship around for a closer inspection, and though Ben'a didn't dismiss it, he felt that this was something worth investigating. He could always stay back and not get involved if the situation was out of his league. With that in mind, he nudged his ship into a nearby clearing, securing the ship but keeping the engines online in case a hasty retreat was needed. Once on the ground, he shrank his Force-presence once again to near-imperceptability, and skulked towards the dark presence, keeping to the shadows and mantaining control on his breathing so as to remain hidden as he advanced through the forest. Within ten minutes, Ben'a was within visual range of the ongoing lightsaber battle; an unfamiliar yep powerful Sith was battling a Jedi. Though he had never met him before, Ben'a knew this man -- he had been one of those captured and lost at Sanity's End -- and so Ben'a felt that he owed Andon Colos. And another presence was nearby as well...another dark aura, but not as powerful, nor as well-composed as the one engaged in mortal combat. The Jedi Knight fingered his lightsaber, preparing himself to intercede on Colos's behalf, should this Sith be able to get the better of him. With his concentration focused entirely on his opponent, the dark side warrior would not be able to detect Ben'a, as he lurked just behind a dense cluster of bushes...if blow came to blow, Ben'a would be in control.

Ben'a had, of course, been to the villa that Tares had mentioned. It had been where he had brought Nahstaa, the former Sith apprentice, to meet his sister Skye. It hsd been through his actions that the two had met...and that Nahstaa had been brought back into the light, and into the Jedi Order. Indeed...life was full of interesting twists and turns, and that was what made it interesting. He let Tares make his own way back to the surface, because the Jedi Knight had his own things to think about. One of those lightsabers that he had found had looked particularly interesting... After about an hour of making his way through the underground complex, Ben'a emerged from the tunnel. The weapon he had been eyeing was still there, so he snatched it up and clipped it onto his belt opposite his uncle's lsaber...one of these days, he would have to recontruct his own lightsaber. But as he ascended the boarding ramp into the Millennium Skyray, he put this thought aside for now. The journey ahead, though it would be routine, was a long one nonetheless. He sealed the hull, sat in the pilot's chair, fired up the repulsorlifts, and brought the sleek craft into the air, engaging the ion engines and blasting out of the atmosphere. The tumaltuous skies of Ossus, witness to untold battles in millennia long past, fell away, and the vessel and her pilot were bathed in starlight and starstreaks as she entered hyperspace.

It had been a very clever trick, Ben'a knew as he bore the weight of the Doshan Sith on his body. The being was ripping into his flesh; his hands, his arms, his chest and legs...but in that last desperate grasp at victory, he had sealed his fate. For it was that one of the most recent things he had learned was resistance to pain -- an ancient Jedi technique called crucitorn -- that enabled him to prevail now. Gritting his teeth as he gathered every ounce of Force energy that he could, Ben'a made his move, moving his free hand (the one the Doshan couldn't grab due to his recent amputation), and grasped the Sith's roughly-scaled face. With an almighty, Force-aided jerk, he ripped the man's head from his neck, and it came clean off of his body. He immediately went limp, and the Jedi kicked it off as he gasped for breath. Blood was flowing freely from many points on his body, and if he didn't do something very soon, he would bleed out completely. With a last cry of "MEDIC!", he lapsed into an advanced Jedi trance, as medics rushed out of a nearby door to the arena floor. --fifteen minutes later-- The medics had done their job well, and though he was still in pain, Ben'a would survive. He got up from the sandy floor, and looked off into the distance; the audience was loving this particular duel. With a nod, Ben'a acknowledged the victory. "Computer, end program," he said dully. The sand-covered arena floor, the alabaster walls, and the spectator-filled stands vanished in an instant, repalced by three walls, a floor and a ceiling, all black and covered with a yellow grid pattern. The holodeck exit faced Ben'a as he stood, and he turned back around to regard the man below and before him. His head and arm were restored to normal, and he was already starting to get up. "Good fight, Sam, but I'm due in Transporter Room Three, Captain Picard is leading an away team down to..."

As Tares rose to his feet, Ben'a followed, all the while thinking of how he could attain control over a potential opponent. The most obvious method was to initiate the combat himself, on his own terms, but this was a direct contridiction of not only the most basic principles of the Jedi Code, but also his own morality. In all his combats, over his time with the Order, he had never been the aggressor...he had been the defender. On Hoth, and then on Coruscant...he was fighting for others, not himself. But whatever he would do to learn control, here in this long-buried archive was not the place to do it. "Master Tares, I believe that we should continue this lesson elsewhere. I...I don't think it appropriate that we remain in this place, it is too old and devoid of the Living Force. Perhaps Naboo? Or maybe Kashyyyk? The more life, the better..."

Ben'a thought upon what Tares was telling him. What the Jedi master was saying not only made sense, but explained so much of what he had been through in his Knighthood. Even in situations when he had eventually prevailed, control was rarely in his grasp completely. That was what he needed most of all, control, for he had been too reckless, for too long. But how was he to acquire this? Undoubtably, Tares would help him in this. "Yes, Master Tares, I do have a question..." Ben'a was now looking into the man before him, sensing how he felt...it intrigued him how, frail though he was due to some unknown malady, Tares was able to dictate the terms of the combat. "What was it that happened to you that drained you of your strength?" Ben'a looked ashamed then, for this was indeed a very personal question. He held up a hand to stop Tares from speaking, as he thought up a more appropriate query. "I apologize. What do you suggest that I do in order to learn control?"

As Tares released his now somewhat bruised arm and backed off, Ben'a extracted himself from the floor, all the time thinking about how quickly the Jedi master had knocked his lightsaber from his grasp. He was still feeling somewhat dizzy when he summoned his weapon back to him through the Force, and reattached it to his belt. What was the point of this? Was it to demonstrate control, will, or just raw skill? There had to be a point to this exercise; if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Jedi Masters did not do anything meaningless or pointless. "I am not quite sure, Master Tares," Ben'a said as he sat down opposite him. "Could it have been to demonstrate my lack of control? Or was it to show that you had it from the start, when I expressly gave it to you? Or...no, that can't be it. "No, Master, I do not yet see it..."

Like a current of water, Ben'a allowed the force of Tares's push to knock him to the ground, maintaining the focus on the rocks as he rolled backward. As he recovered his poise, the two stones pelted forward, striking the Jedi master hard about the head and shoulders. With that moment of distraction, Ben'a lept to the side, using the momentum of the jump to spring off of the wall, landing behind where Tares stood. He then ignited his lightsaber, its purple blade bathed the dark corridor in an eerie violet glow. It was inevitable that the lightsaber would be used in this duel...but still, who was in control? What was the object of this fight, what was Tares trying to prove? "How far will this go, Master Tares?" As he waited for a reply, Ben'a's focus intensified, seeing into the possible as the Jedi master turned to face him...

It surprised and at once intrigued Ben'a how Tares tracked him, but then, that was why he was a Jedi Master, and Ben'a was a Knight. He could sense and hear the rock coming at him, but instead of igniting his saber to bat it aside, he took hold of it with the Force. If this was to be a contest of control, then so too should it be a contest of wills. The rock halted in midair, and another rock rose to meet it a few inches opposite.

Ben'a nodded to himself and the man before him as he acknowledged Tares's words. This wasn't the first time he had engaged a more experienced Jedi in mock combat, and when Tares released his wrist, Ben'a brought it down and forward, using it to send a wave of Force energy that sent the Jedi master flying along the library floor. At the same time, he shrank his Force-signature in the way Vergere had taught him, and began to sprint silently amongst the shelves, heading for the exit into the outer corridor. It wouldn't do to destroy any of the priceless tomes, holocrons, and other items here in this duel... As he entered the hallway, he fingered his lightsaber, bringing it out of his belt...but he didn't activate it yet...

Ben'a considered his new mentor's ponderings as he considered where to begin. This kind of philosophical lesson had been rare when he had recieved his training as a Padawan, and it intrigued him to hear Master Tares speaking this way. But when the Jedi Master held his wrist and asked his question, Ben'a knew he was in the presence of genius. It was his first instinct to say that he was in control, but Ben'a knew that was not true, not yet. "Master, indeed you are in control here, because I have submitted myself to your wisdom and guidence. Though that might not be the case if we were to become enemies at this instant..." Though his thoughts bore no emotion or conotation, he broadcast into Tares's mind the image of a martial-arts technique that could be used to drop the Jedi Master to the floor, whereupon Ben'a could do further actions to him. "I hope you understand that this will not happen, though...I would die first."

This Doshan was a terriffic hand-to-hand fighter; he was quick, but Ben'a was quicker and stronger. He held off the Sith's forceful blow that had been aimed at his chest, but in the concentration of the moment, the Sith Lord had used his free hand to slash into the Jedi's upper left arm. The pain was intense; were he not skilled in the Jedi arts, he would be screaming and writhing in agony upon the sand, but instead, he withdrew further into himself, dulling the pain in his extremities, and using the force of his will to keep the arm working. But this would not do, he could not win in a fistfight with a Doshan of this skill; it was time to bring out the lightsabers. With a glare that could have been mistaken for vicious anger, Ben'a's eyes bore into the Sith Lord opposite him as he tasted the Jedi's blood, and without further warning, he let loose another Force-blast, sending the Doshan Sith flying once again. In actuality, it was not anger that he had displayed, but serene concentration and slight intimidation. Quickly, his hands darted into his cloak, and brought the two lightsabers out, activating them at the same time; in his right hand, an emerald green blade, and in his left, a violently violet one. As the Sith Lord tried to regain his feet, Ben'a once again shrank his presence in the Force, but at the same time, he called upon its influence to drive up a torent of wind. The dueling arena became a white-yellow fog of swirling sand; the Doshan, unless by some trick of his species could see through the whirling dust, would not be able to follow Ben'a as he darted forward and to the side through the sandstorm. The Jedi, however, could see the Sith's presence within the force; it glowed bright with controlled fury and anger...he was getting to his opponent. I don't take kindly to others consuming my blood... The challange, unspoken yet heard with perfect clarity within the mind of Garet Jax, provided just enough of a distraction to enable Ben'a to leap through the dust storm, both sabers swinging in a crushing jung ma against the unprepared Sith Lord. The Doshan managed to ignite his lightsaber just in time to prevent his own decapitation, but he couldn't block the second blade ccompletely; Ben'a's violet blade glanced off the second blade of the Doshan's saber and bounced upward due to sheer momentum. After a horrified scream, the Sith Lord was deprived of his right forearm. Ben'a did not stay to finish the fight; keeping up the dust storm and still concentrating on the fight was tiring him out ever so slightly. He leaped back and away, and at once, the winds died and the sand fell back into place. The Jedi Knight deactivated his lightsabers, and sat down, intending to gather more strength to him, and to heal the wounds in his arm. But he was also ready for anything...the fight was not over.

"Knowledge, Master Tares? What good is knowledge to those who have rejected it in favor of willful ingnorance, in favor of the dark side? Unless they wish to seek it of their own free will, how will they attain it? No one can force redemption upon an enemy..." Ben'a thought to himself, long and hard. Was he indeed the right kind of being to be a redeemer of the light? He had journeyed far across the galaxy in his time as a Jedi, and he had seen and felt many new things. He had seen the darkness within many sentients, and was by no means afraid of that...compassion can only go so far against an enemy determined to murder. "I know that I have much to learn, and that is why I need a guide, a coporeal guide..."

Skills that I lack? Ben'a thought to himself. It was chance that I met those that needed and sought redemption... He knew that, as a Jedi trained in the Force, he had the ability to peer into the minds of beings, to sense what they would not want to admit otherwise. But he also knew that if someone was to be redeemed, they needed to want it; a being fallen in the darkness cannot be forcibly dragged back into the light, and any attempt to do so will achieve the opposite result... No, he did not know... "I do not know what skills are required, Master Tares, so I could not begin to tell you the ones that I lack. But maybe it is not so much a 'skill' that I need...I have found that compassion for my enemy is what enabled me to reach out to the ones I brought back from the dark... Does this make sense, Master Tares?"

For a while, Ben'a pondered the Jedi Master's reply. Specialization was something he had not considered, and it shamed him slightly to admit that, but still, it was a valid solution to his dilemma. The only problem was...what would he specialize in? His training with Master Kerian had been short by most standards; while he had learned much of his skills during that time, he still felt as though the man could have gone further. But dwelling on the mistakes of his master was not the way to go, that was clear...he had to focus on his own future. What was he good at? Piloting, for one thing...flying the Millennium Skyray into combat had enabled him to achieve great success against the forces of injustice. But on the other hand, he did not seek a repeat of what happened at Sanity's End; he had just now come to grips with what had happened. Lightsaber combat? Yes, he was profficient at that; some may have even considered him somewhat talented at it...but to specialize in it? Maybe...but he didn't think that would be particularly Jedi-like to train and wish for combat all of the time. Master Keiran had taught him to appreciate all of life, deep in that Naboo swamp, and it had opened him up to the Living Force...and like his Master, he had learned to enlist the aid of animals in a fight... But what could he do with this talent? Was it not disrespectful towards life to manipulate it for one's own survival? Was it not an insult to the Force to use it to that end? Perhaps...perhaps not...but Ben'a had no answer to this. He was drifting ever further away along his stream of thought, but nothing profound was coming to him...until several faces floated before his mind's eye. He had it. "Master Tares, I believe that I am an accomplished pilot, as well as skilled in the art of the lightsaber, but I feel that my greatest strength may lie in bringing souls back to the light and sending their darkness away. Twice I have done this, and while one yet still serves the Order....the other is...lost. I felt his passing, but it was in service to our cause, that much I know. Perhaps....perhaps this is my calling..."

As he sat in meditation, waiting for an oppoent to challange him, Ben'a could feel a dark energy drawing ever nearer. After bringing himself back to the physical realm, he looked upon the sand before him, to see a being clad in black as it made its appearance in the duel ring. With sight beyond sight, the Jedi Knight could peer into the mind of his opponent, and he recognized this being for what he really was: a Sith Lord, bred and raised for combat. This being's intentions were as apparent as the sun when the Doshan ignited his saber, and so Ben'a felt himself falling deeper still into the embrace of the Force...it was time to put the Art of the Small into practice. Small, small, I shall become, See me not, my will be done... In an instant of blurred fury, Ben'a shrunk himself low to the ground, and bolted straight towards the Sith Lord as he stood, waiting for the attack. Hard and fast, he covered the distance between himself and Garet in less then a moment, but just before he reached the Doshan, however, Ben'a gave an almighty skid, sending a tidal wave of sand straight up and into the face of the dark fighter who had chosen him as an opponent. Stopping for only an instant, Ben'a straightened himself up, showing his back to the Sith Lord, daring him to attack. But the moment was fleeting, and soon Ben'a was in the air, flipping up and over the Sith, landing just behind the being. "Surprise!" With that statement, Ben'a sent a Force blast straight into the small of the Doshan's back, sending him flying and skidding across the sandy arena floor. Ben'a had not yet drawn his weapon, and he had not even broken a sweat, but even so, he cemented his connection further, preparing for the reprisal this Sith was sure to crave. He had faced down the darkness before and prevailed, and he would do so once again...

((OOC: The Duelling thread is an "anything goes" affair, as far as I can tell. You can arrange duels over AIM or some other form of instant messaging, or even PMs, or you can just "walk in" and wait for someone to challenge you."" It had been a long time since the duel ring had seen its intended use. Perhaps too long, but this thought was not a vital one to the Jedi Knight Ben'a Solo, as he strode confidently about the arena floor. The sand was as colourless as ever; one could only marvel at how quickly it absorbed the blood that had so frequently spattered it, staining it to all shades of crimson, green, and even blue, depending on the species that had bled and died here. As he continued to pace forward, Ben'a was relaxing his conscious mind, opening himself up to the Force, and enabling the wisdom he had so recently gleamed to guide his being in the contest that lay ahead. Deep in his black cloak, Ben'a wore two lightsabers: one was a recreation of his original blade destroyed by an evil being that he had subsequently destroyed, and the other was an old family weapon, which had been used in its own time to ward off those beings which had sought to enslave and devour the galaxy from without. These were the only physical things he would need to prevail against whatever threat came at him; the rest resided within his body, within his mind, and indeed, within his very soul. But just who he would face this day was not readily apparent, for Ben'a Solo remained the only being in this realm of deadly combat. But he was patient; an opponent would surely come soon.

Many hours, and indeed, many days passed as Ben'a Solo sank ever deeper into the depths of knowledge contained within this most ancient Jedi library.The holocrons were not the only sources of information to be had; the many volumes in the library were literally brimming with old and powerful techniques, including extensive guides to lightsaber combat, advice on advanced meditative poses, tips on using the Force to camouflage oneself from enemies, and even an old History of the Jedi Order. By the end of that first day, it was readily apparent to the Jedi Knight that he would be staying for a while, so he had gone back through the many complex tunnels and corridors, obstcles and barriers, back to his ship, where he retireved enough supplies and gear to last him for however long he would need to spend. By the time he had studied all that he could, he had taken two more trips back to the Millennium Skyray, both times using some of the skills that he had learned. While there, he glimpsed into the powers of jedi Combat Sense and Battle Meditation, Crucitorn and the Force Bubble, the forbidden art of Morichro, as well as many forms of offensive telepathy and mind-manipulation. Finally, he had studied all that he could, doing his best to practice the techniques and powers that he had learned. But Ben'a knew that he would need much, much more practical experience before he could consider himself a master at any of these arts. And though he was steadily becoming more powerful within the Force, there yet remained a small void, and it slowly began to resonate within his soul. He did not know when Vergere would be able to come back, but he found this was less of a priority now. Ben'a Solo needed a purpose; something, or some cause towards which he could apply his new learning. He needed to find his place within the Jedi Order, and that could not be done by conversing with a guiding spirit. He needed to see one of the Masters of the Order, but he dared not leave yet... ...the Fosh Jedi may yet come. ((fast-forward to "just before the crash" Grrrr @ the hacker))

Hours had passed like moments as Ben'a continued to meditate, applying the knowledge that his Fosh Jedi teacher was passing on to him as he hovered a few inches from the floor. He felt as though he were hovering, weightless, and isolated unto himself as though in the dark vaccum of intersteller space. But far apart from simply floating alone, in this underground library illuminated by an ancient, almost secretive, knowledge of the Force, the Knight let himself fly away freely, his senses taking in the world, and worlds, beyond. He could touch and interact with the life-force of the ancient tree that guarded the entrance. He could sense the strong Force-presence of his acquaintance, Nom Anorus, and his two charges, as well as that of the young girl he had left behind at the campsite. Indeed, he could peruse the whole of Ossus from where he sat, locked in a meditation so deep... ...that until then, he thought, no external source could break. No sooner had Ben'a let his attention wander into the worlds beyond his compatriots in the Jedi Order, then several strands of that same Force-energy streaked out from their emitters in a combined effort to finally do him in. Though he maintained his meditative stance, the Jedi Knight was nonetheless caught off-guard by the sudden assault, and he managed to apply the lessons so recently learned just in time. Though they could not be seen, he could feel the tendrils of energy as they passed through the space he occupied with his body, but not the Force. He had not only survived, but he had evaded the attack completely, without moving an inch. "Do you know why you succeeded?" Vergere asked him in hushed tones. "I believe I do," Ben'a began. His own mouth was rather dry, and he spoke in a low murmur. "I was there, but then I wasn't there. The lightning couldn't see me!" "You're half-right," the Fosh said, cocking a gimlet eye at him. "However, I am obliged to point out that you had let your attentions wander too far, and that is why you were caught unawares. Though I will admit you did well for that lesson." She paused for a moment, and began to pace around where Ben'a sat, still hovering, again. "There is little more I can teach you at this point, Master Solo, though your training is not at an end. You must now absorb what lessons you can from this ancient vault of knowledge, and when you have, I will return to test you, once again..." Without another word, the spirit of Vergere began to fade out. As if on cue, the lights in the ancient library began to glow more brightly, so that Ben'a could see the true extent of its interior. Row upon row of shelves filled with ancient, yet clean and wel-kept tomes could be percieved immediately, but that was not what attracted the Jedi's attention. Rather, a bank of panels, each glowing with a faint white-blue glimmer, and in turn set in the far wall pulled his eyes from the nearest shelf of books. With hushed footsteps, the Jedi rose from his meditative position, and walked calmly over to where the rows of panels stood. Each one bore a small plaque beneath a brass handle, and upon each plaque was engraved a letter-number combination. Some unknown desire drew him towards the panel marked "Holo-XP233", and without a moment's hesitation, he opened it. Inside a small, one foot square cubbyhole, stood a small, triangular object -- a holocron! Ben'a couldn't help himself... "Hokey religions and ancient weapons...if only Grandad knew..." With the utmost care, Ben'a extracted the small pyramid from its resting place, and strode from the bank of holocrons, looking for an appropriate place to view the item's contents. Within moments, one presented itself, and so the Jedi took his new discovery, and began to enter his meditation cycle once again. Though he had never worked with one so old as this example, Ben'a knew how to operate the device...and as he began to probe its secrets, a whole new world opened its doors to let him in...

The feathery apparition of her hand was barely millimeters from Ben'a's shoulder when it happened. No matter what he had done in his life, he knew that he did not need to die here, alone, shocked out of his mortal existance by a Jedi of the Old Republic that had been dead for nearly thrity years. He wasn't quite aware of willing it to happen, and indeed, the next thing that Ben'a knew, the blue avian ghost was flying backwards, feathers akimbo, and looking distinctly ruffled as she regained her metaphorical footing. "Well, I see that you have finally awakened your senses, Master Solo," Vergere said in that same, slightly condescending voice she used so well. "Though the effort was crude and uncontrolled, you were able to ward off my attack. And what was more...you realised something, didn't you?" Ben'a gave a solemn nod. Obviously, Vergere was capable of probing his thoughts, so words were about as necessary as a winter coat on Tatooine. Yet still, the creature's plibald face gazed at him dubiously, as though still doubting that she had the right person here before her now. The Jedi knew that look, it had been the same one Master Keiran had given him when expressing doubts about the progress of his earlier training. "Indeed," was all Vergere cared to degin in reply, before resuming her circular pacing. "I see that you have learned something since coming here, and that is always a good thing." And at this, she stopped right opposite Ben'a, staring him down with an oddly steely glint in her eye. "However, there is much more you must know. We will resume now...defend yourself!" Without warning, the Fosh spirit launched yet another series of electrical attacks of the same killing intensity as before, but this time, Ben'a was ready for them. They were coming in from all directions, one after another, quite apart from where Vergere's spirit stood, quietly observing. Ben'a kept up his defenses, gradually learning to rely less and less on resisting the attacks, and more on avoiding them alltogether. The whole lesson unfolded and evolved into a game akin to dodgeball, but with barely-visable strands of killing energy. And it wasn't so much a physical game, either... --one hour later-- Ben'a was exhausted. Vergere seemed to understand this as well, because with a wave of her hand, the game had stopped. As he rested, Ben'a slowly began to realise that it had not, in fact, been her spirit at all that had caused the painful surges, but machines embedded within the room. A spirit was just a spirit, and couldn't possibly call upon the Force in a physical sense. "You are making progress, Master Solo," Vergere said, with a little less of the usual approach in her voice this time. "I had to learn my art in order to survive; one slip, and I could have been dead before my time. Therefore, I was somewhat at an advantage -- you would be surprised what duress can enable one to accomplish, young Solo. When you are done here, you will be able to blend as you please, unknown as one of the Jedi if that is necessary for what you choose to do. But that is not all when it comes to the Art of the Small; you must accept the primal lesson of defense. When someone attacks you, the best defense is to simply not be there. And you will learn how. "Start by focusing on your being, and your connection to the Force. You have been taught how to disconnect yourself from its powers completely, but that is a mistake for which you may suffer greatly. Instead, you must focus inward upon that connection, and steadily shrink it, until it is too small to be seen by even the trained eye, be it Force-enhanced or not." Her voice, before somewhat shrilly and borderline annoying, suddenly begame smoother, deeper, slower, and oddly hypnotic. It was the old Jedi Mind Trick, but different. This was the kind of soothing voice that aided in the learning and understanding of lessons, carrying the student onward amidst waves of inspired confidence. "Slowly, slowly, draw yourself inward. Feel the Force around you as you shrink your presence within its energy. Deeper, and still deeper, pull inward, further inward. Think small, and you will be small, think about not being there, and you will cease to be in harm's way. Tighter, still tighter, draw the circle inward, Small, small, you must be small!" Ben'a could feel himself drawing inward, obeying the instructions that Vergere gave him. And apart from learning this lesson, the Jedi Knight was finding himself in an ever-increasing state of peace, and of acceptance, finally dealing with the events that had brought him here. No longer would he act so rashly; in his mind, he began to review and understand the events of hte past that had gotten him into danger before, and to learn from these mistakes. Ben'a Solo had touched the Force in its purest form, and he would not falter again for lack of foresight or wisdom. Vergere seemed to understand this as the lesson continued unabated.

The voice, and the form to which it belonged was completely unfamiliar to Ben'a, as he turned about to acknowledge its presence. The blue apparition of some unknown avian species stood before him, clad in Jedi robes, and though this spirit seemed to recognize him, Ben'a was at a loss as to whom this echo once belonged to. "My apologies," he said meekly, "but... who are you?" The spirit appeared to ruffle its feathers slightly, as if shaking dust from them. "I would imagine why you ask this, young Jedi, for I doubt you have come across a being of my kind in your travels. However, your father knew me quite well, and I, him." At once Ben'a realized to whom he was speaking. This had to be the spirit of the Fosh Jedi Vergere, who had helped Jacen to overcome certain obstacles in his own lifetime. As he sat down before the spirit, he thought back to his own travels across the ethereal plane, in his escape from Sanity's End. His instructions were quite clear, but he let the one before him take the lead. "Yes, I know you now, Vergere. I was instructed to come here..." "Yes, I know the particulars, Master Solo. And indeed, you have come." As she spoke, Vergere began to walk in a circle around where Ben'a sat. "Yes, yes, strong you have become, young Solo. But there is much recklessness within you still. Unless I am much mistaken, you have probed into what you know as the dark side of the Force, and on more then one occasion. Though you never blatantly crossed that line...interesting." Ben'a simply sat there, letting Vergere's spirit probe him without resisting. He had, in fact, been dwelling on what he had done in his life. The Order had seemed like such a noble calling, and he had always wanted to do what he could to improve life in the galaxy, but darkness seemed to have followed him wherever he had gone. The destruction of Sanity's End had very nearly been the last straw -- he had intended to save the Rebel fleet from that weapon of awesome power, but instead, he had condemned thirty million beings to a firey death. "Tsk, tsk, young Jedi," Vergere admonished suddenly as she continued her pacing. "You dwell upon the past, as if it were your own fault. You know better then that. You chose that particular course of action, and so did the being that fired that weapon. It was his actions, not yours, that doomed the moon city. And yet, you still blame yourself...how sad indeed." And then, Vergere's spirit touched Ben'a's shoulder, and a white-hot pain shot through the Jedi's entire body, as though he had just laid his hand in a high-voltage current. But he kept his silence, bearing the excruciating pain with clenched teeth, until the avian relinquished her shocking touch. "And why did you not use the Force just then, to shield yourself from that pain, Master Solo?" she asked shrilly. "Do you still think you deserve this? Then who am I to doubt you?" Again, Vergere touched Ben'a's shoulder, and again the white-hot pain arched through his body. Vergere let out a sigh as, once again, she eased her pain. "The next blast will be a killing one if you do not put up some sort of resistance, young Solo." "But, why?" was all Ben'a could get out before, once again, Vergere's spirit made to touch him...

He was in a bleak, lightless corridor that looked like it hadn't been trodden through in millennia. The only illumination was provided by the still-open hatchway, which in itself was only adequate enough to reveal about two feet of hallway in either direction. No, Ben'a would need another source of light...and with a brief glance downward, he found it. Picking up the large wooden torch, the Jedi Knight began to focus in on it with the Force, willing the tip of it to heat up; hotter and hotter it became, until a popping noise was heard, and a flame started to crackle merrily upon the torch. "Now, which way should I go?" Forward, never backward, a voice in the back of his mind told him. So, without a glance back into the opposite direction, Ben'a set off though the corridor in the direction he faced, kicking up small clouds of dust with every step. The air was still and stale, as though centuries had passed since it had last seen the nose of a living being. There weren't even the usual cave-dwelling animals that one would expect; the place seemed completely dead, yet it pulsated with some hidden, secret power. A good-intentioned power, maybe, but a great one nonetheless. The Jedi Knight continued on, letting the Force and the torch guide him to where, he knew, many things would be revealed to him. --one hour later-- The maze of corridors had reminded Ben'a of when he had first joined the Jedi Order as a hopeful from Corellia. He had seemed completely lost then, and when he had finally met with others of his kind, they had been feeling equally ill-displaced. However, this time, he knew where he was going; the tingling in his lekku had become steadily stronger as he had strided down empty hallways, descended empty stairwells, and performed Force-feats to get past obstacles, all on his way to the ancient Jedi library. Why the obstacles had been placed, he neither knew nor cared; though as he reached his goal, it did occur to him once what one of his Jedi mentors had said: "Life isn't a destination, it is a journey..." "Indeed, Masters, you were right," Ben'a said to himself absentmindedly, as he peered contemplatively at a large stone door that had blocked his path. The thing had proven particularly stubborn. There were no visible means of prying it open, and it had not yeilded to his command of the Force. Indeed, there had seemed no way to get the stone to reveal the secrets that lay beyond -- that is, until Ben'a had muttered that admition of his master's correctness. The Jedi bit back a cry of surprise as, with a shuddering groan, the stone split in two and the halves moved aside. The chamber beyond felt just as old as the surrounding compound, yet it was incredibly well-kept. The shelves, bearing books and devices of a familiar nature, were immacculately clean and undisturbed. The vast chamber itself was illuminated by some ethereal glow; not too obtrusive, yet strong enough to provide ample light to read and meditate by. Surely, this was what remained of the great Jedi library, and as Ben'a walked in and began to take in what he was seeing and feeling, his whole being began to feel lighter, more liberated. This was, indeed, a sanctuary... "So, you've finally made it, Son of Skywalker," said a voice just behind the Jedi Knight...