Shitqal

The simple truth of the matter was that he did not care one way or the other about Ixodiun, but she seemed to forget that there was more to things than simple brute force. They were a culture, an empire whose roots ran deep. And it seemed, given the rabble that she surrounded herself with, that she had forgotten what it meant to be pure of blood, of what it meant to truly be Sith and not some fodder that was better suited to be in chains. She had forgotten the prestige and honor of her house, of her species, and it fell to him to remind her.

Which is why he approached the cat. Truth be told? Of all her retinue, it was the cat that irked him the most, and for good reason. The cat should have died already, as its species may have been predators at some point, but Lis Orlet was a house cat that did not even sharpen its claws when it had the chance. She was at the SITH academy, and he had spent a full year without training her force or combat related abilities? As she became more of a sneak and merchant? It sickened him, as he went up to her little stall.

The small stall that she used to tap into the academies black market, and did she have the decency for it to be loot from the tombs? No, it was all fresh creations of that Edru whore (she was a Twi'lek, and thus should be eager to provide sex for a handful of credits), from basic armor, simple weapons and medpacs! He screamed, as he brought his saber down, as he aimed to shear through the affront to a proper Sith's dignity. But, it never reached it, as a hand, an unshielded hand of all things, gripped his saber!

"Scram."

It was a single word from the abomination, from the experiment that was permitted to act like a student. Part human, part rancor some said, even as others thought that his mother was a Wookie. He was a dumb brute that barely spoke, barely had any force presence, likely all tied up in some sort of botched but permeant strengthening technique. Not only was the thing an affront, lacking pure blood, but it dared to give him orders? He pressed a button, the blade shifting from stunning to channel his full wrath.

And nothing happened, as the brute looked at him with that mildly annoyed expression. "Leave. Make Leave." The beasts tone was a threatening growl, but he was one of the stronger warriors in their third year, as he felt the power of the dark rush into him, as he howled and delivered a series of devastating strikes, the red blade descending on the mutant like a tempest of death! Only for the creature to not even notice. For there not even to be a welt or bruise or scorch marks, as the whispers started both among those watching... and inside of his own head.

He barely noticed, as he screamed, the force flooding his vocal chords as he fought against this thing! It did not notice, as its hand gripped his head. He paused a moment, terror locking his muscles into place as those oversized digits could simply squeeze down, crushing his head like an overripe fruit. Fear tore through him, as he screamed, as terror gave way to blinding fury, as he thrashed, desperate to escape what felt like the grip of the dark itself! A word boomed, as he felt himself rising. "Mediocre."

It was judgement, as the beast flung him, tossing him the way a youngling might throw a stone, as he tried to brace himself, to hold himself, before he slammed into a temple, cracking stone, the air and concousness driven from his body as he somehow, miraculously and by the grace of the force, survived! And yet, his slumber was short lived as a ghost swore and complained about the damage to his tomb... and then? Shitqal screamed even more, as cold dead fingers decided to make their displeasure known in a very final sense.

Ixodiun

She looked at her most physically gifted subordinate and thanked the ancestors she made sure that his uniform would not include a shirt. Still, she was amused, as she listened to the events that occurred in that little side courtyard, even as there were a few things that needed to be said. "Now Matt, as you are aware you are not allowed to be caught killing other students on academy grounds."

Granted, how well that was actually enforced appeared to be up to the overseers, as she knew for a fact that he delivered a skull or two every month to overseer Ragate, and that some of the bones in the kennel, chewed on bones at that, appeared after some of the students went missing. Of course, he had a answer for that, as he nodded. "Threw out. Impact livable."

Even as the others giggled and shook their heads, she had to roll her eyes and sigh, pointing at him. "By your standards or one of us small and fragile people?"

And really, some frustration may have leaked into her tone, as it seemed that there were some drawbacks to having a subordinate as strong and durable as a rancor. And she knew that he was capable of holding back. "Didn't kill. That ghost."

Which was, technically correct. The most annoying kind of correct to be on the other side of. At the same time, throwing the idiot hard enough to damage the tomb and provoke the ghost? Oh, he may not be as smart as she would like, but there was a cunning mind in there. Still, she sighed, as she stuck out her feet, as he was trained enough to start massaging them as she pondered what sort of 'punishment' would satisfy the overseers (who admittedly largely seemed amused at all of this) while also making sure that her brute did not do things so openly?

Matt

So, as it turns out? Chucking an idiot to get eaten by a ghost? I was volunteered to be a training dummy for a little while. Sure, the lightsabers just tickle, but the real issue? I was 'not allowed to hunt' until it was all over, and every time I punched or fought back the punishments duration would reset. On the one hand, I am impressed, as this is actually fairly effective and I've gotten used to some fresh and bloody force infused meat. And now I had to endure what was basically tickle torture while pondering where some of the rarer kinds of war beasts might lair, as I'll admit to feeling a little peckish.

Really, I just hoped there was another assassin sent over. While I was still working on the barbeque sauce, they were delicious. A part of me wondered if I should be worried that I was casually pondering the merits of condiments to go along with devouring sentients? And then there was a strike to the balls and I punted the little fucker into the wall. I don't care if it resets my punishment. You don't hit me there!

Idly, as I looked at the stunned Nautolan, there was only one thing to say in a low growling voice meant to be contemplative, even as numerous other students looked at me warily. "Seafood chowder..."