Of Anakin and Death

The hideous red glow of Anakin’s lightsaber flashed, narrowly missing Death's skull. Death's black robes swished softly as he twirled and brought his light-scythe to bear. In rapid fashion, Anakin and Death parried the others blows and counterattacks. The two combatants ignored the sulfurous, molten lava a mere thirty feet below them. Both lightsaber and lightscythe flashed perilously near the single cable beneath the combatants feet. The weapon play rose to a furious pitch, and in a final clash the two came together, lightsaber and scythe crossed. Sweat pored down their blackened faces. Anakin’s brow furrowed. He reached deep with his emotions, called all his anger, despair, and pain to channel the force to a maximum. Just before Anakin began his final, devastating attack, Death laughed and stepped back. Puzzled, Anakin pushed forward to deliver the ending blow, but stopped midstroke as Deaths laughter increased.

"What’s so funny?" Anakin asked quietly, his tremendous temper nearing its boiling point.

Death fought his laughter for a few moments and managed to utter between blasts of laughter, "Why, this fight is so pointless." Laughter took him. He composed himself, stood straight, and with as much of a smile a skeleton could muster said, "I'm death, you see. All this time we've been fighting you didn't realize one important fact. I can't die."

Anakin face contorted, confused. And then paled as Death's lightscythe sliced the single cable keeping both bodies from falling into the molten lava. Anakin's hands clawed empty air in a vain attempt for a lifeline. Death simply leaned back and relaxed.

"Serves you right. You're picking bad odds when you choose to fight Death."