Tatooine- It Was a Ballroom Blitz

((I was so bored I had to type something, no matter how shitty. =/))

History was no stranger to the workings of the Sith. Each time they think of themselves as victorious, grand conquerers of the Galaxy in a bid of dellusional power, they're pushed back to the depths of obscurity once again, forced to hide within the shadows of their brooding malcontent. The Dark Lord was idiotic to think he can change what many have tried, to prevail where even those darker than himself have fallen from the grasp truly knowing what it is to rule.

"Idiotic..."

The rogue knight said aloud, the softness of his voice barely reaching his own ears, though they would not of listened anyway; too busy were they wrapped up in his own thoughts of what he had just witnessed on the Holonet news. The Sith have returned - did we ever leave? - and have spectacularly decided to thrust their rampaging fist straight within the heart of the Galaxy; the Republic. The heart is more resillient than they'd like to give credit for, though. Luckily enough, Tattooine was far from the main agenda on the Sith's to-do list, and so for a short rest in which to gather his thoughts, here sat Thesus, sipping upon a welcome alcoholic drink. Drowning your sorrows on a planet that seems to despise you as much you it, contemplating the decisions of your past and the questions of the future after just being granted to see the decline of the Republic, it didn't enspire confidence within one's self.

"I'm not one of them anymore. I'm not a Sith."

Thesus slurred, affected by the purple liquid he gripped in the glass; he should hope he was drunk, for the gaseous fumes emitting from the glass seemed distrustful. But if he was not a Sith, what was he? A Jedi? No, they're far too peaceful for his liking, and the Sith for too repetitive. Was his destiny to fall within the middle, neither repetitive nor peaceful? So contained within his inner musings was Thesus, he never noticed a portly man beside him poking him on the arm and mouthing something to him. Dragging himself away from the pity building up, he turned so he faced the man who's anger seemed to be bursting out of him.

"I'm talking to you! Did you just say you were one of them?"

He pointed towards the screen within the bar, clearly showing that kid from the cave and his ensuing speech.

"Yeah, I did."

"Then let me give you something on behalf of the Galaxy."

And perhaps it was the alcohol, or maybe the ever-constant shifting currents within the Force, but before he could react the man's fist planted directly on his jaw, sending Thesus crashing down to the floor and sending up the attention of the crowd. That bastard! He quickly reached for his lightsaber, ready to show this man what true fear was, but all he felt were the leggings of his pants and the welcoming steel of his lightsaber gone. He quickly looked around him anxiously, spotting the lightsaber behind him. Shooting up to his feet he outstretched his hand, ready to ignite the blade within a moment's notice, but before his fingertips could even glance the metal the man had bore into him with his shoulder, sending them both thrashing to the ground as his own lightsaber shot into the huddled mass behind them. Fists were flying into his face quicker than he could register, and the taste of blood entered his mouth.

Thesus kicked him back with both feet, sending the man crashing into his overturned barstool that splintered under his weight. Clutching the side of the bar for support he pulled himself up, wiping the blood that oozed from his mouth with one hand while picking up his glass with another. The man was already back up to his feet, and for his size was impressive. Holding onto the glass tightly, he sent it smashing into the side of the man's face, splintering within his cheek as he let out a mighty cry of pain and clutched his face before dropping to his knees.

"Definitely not a Jedi."