Down a Peg [completed]

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Ishmel had arrived late the night before, and the sun was just now peeking over the walls of Iziz. The palace, on the central hill of the city, was bathed in a golden glow.

His room was small, containing a bed, closet, and desk. On the desk his comm chirped, waking him up.

[Ishmel Rykov]

"What the...?"

Ishmel slowly sat up and stared at the comm on the desk. Morning already? He'd been shown the room after arriving and collapsed once he had easily found the bed in the cramped room. It wasn't too bad now that he got a look at it. Reminded him a lot of his apartment back on Coruscant. He took his time getting to the desk, stretching slowly and yawning before even getting out of bed.

He languidly picked up the comm and clicked it in. First day on the job.

"Yeah? Rykov here."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"Good morning, Rykov. You have a busy morning in front of you." De'Ville sounded a bit amused. "Get some breakfast in the kitchens and then meet me in the main courtyard in an hour. I will see you then."

The comm clicked off.

[Ishmel Rykov]

Rykov stared at the small object for a moment before tossing it back on the table. He slipped his dirty black pants on before slipping his boots on; the automatic buckles sighing and hissing as they conformed to Ishmel's legs comfortably. He debated whether or not he needed his heavy jacket or not but decided against it, unaware of the planet's climates in the morning. He stashed the comm in one of his many pockets and headed out, trying to discern a direction towards the kitchen.

After finding a servant and getting his directions. Rykov arrived at the kitchen, grabbing two rolls and a glass of water. Once again getting directions to the main courtyard he was off, content with his food for the moment. By the time he made it to the courtyard, he was chewing the last bite of his rolls and had ditched the water canister with some meandering servant.

He entered the morning light, squinting as his eyes grew accustomed. His pale gray hair shifted in long clumps, he hadn't recieved a shower yet and he hadn't bothered finding one either. He was going to work today anyways. Why bother?

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She stood up from the bench she'd been resting on in the center of the courtyard, enjoying the early morning sun. "Right on time, Rykov. A good trait. I will start our session this morning with a few questions. What do you know of the Force?"

[Ishmel Rykov]

Barely swallowing the last piece before he responded to her,

"Fda Force?..."

Ishmel swallowed the rest of it before continuing.

"I can't say I really know a thing about it, sorry. I mean, I think there's some kinda connection between my hatred and that glow that I can see in my mind when I focus on it, but ya know... never really bothered with it."

Rykov clenched his fist, focused on even the smallest thing he could think of, the sunlight of all things that stung his eyes. He could feel the hatred flowing in his fist. Was this the force?! Had he been focusing it all this time?

"Like I said, I know nothing."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"I did not think you did." She snapped her fingers, and a trooper in a grey uniform walked into the courtyard. On his back was a bulky frame of some kind. As he got closer (carefully walking around De'Ville) Rykov could see a furry lizard-like creature entwined in the frame.

"This is a yslamiri, a creature that repels the Force. Once inside it's influence you will be denied access to that which you access subconsciously." She did not envy him the sensation, but it was necessary. Besides, it would do him good. "Tell me if you feel any different."

The trooper stood a yard to the side of him, easily encompassing the apprentice in the two meter 'bubble.'

[Ishmel Rykov]

Ishmel warily watched the trooper come closer to him as he held his focused hatred in his fist. The burning sensation instantly went cold with one step and then as the trooper came closer and then stopped, the sensation was gone. Ishmel tried to focus his hatred again but it appeared futile. He frowned and spit on the ground.

"You telling me that my hatred is the Force and that these things can keep it from me?"

Ishmel spun on his heel. He didn't understand the Force or exactly how he focused his hatred, but if there was anything he did love it was that feeling of the hatred rushing through his veins and along his muscles. And this thing had taken it away from him. He approached the trooper and examined the thing on his back; what had she called them? Yslamiri? Just another thing to hate among the many in this world.

Without any warning or sign, Rykov's face contorted in a released rage at the lost feeling of his "hatred" and he hit the trooper in the gut. Before the man could double over, Ishmel's boot kicked forward and launched the man backwards, the yslamiri's effects obviously out of range as Ishmel felt the Force or whatever it was course through him, he let it burn though on the remembrance of losing it. He loved his hatred. Turning back to De'Ville,

"I felt different, only for a little while though.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She threw a hand out, knocking her apprentice to the ground with a Force push. "Restrain yourself!" Lilaena thundered, her voice seeming unnaturally loud to his ears. To the side of the fallen apprentice, the trooper was getting to his feet unsteadily.

He'd fallen on his back, on top of the nutrient frame, and he now knelt and removed teh heavy pack, examining the yslamiri. They were fragile creatures, and expensive - worth their weight in credits on the black market. De'Ville allowed Rykov to get to his feet, rage billowing out from his body in almost tangible waves, and turned to the trooper. "How is it?"

"Injured." The trooper showed a stormtroopers tendencies towards verbosity.

"Leave, and take care of it. We cannot afford to lose another.' Kuklos Ataxia had been experimenting with lighter frames, infused with different nutrients, and had lost one of their yslamiri. They only had eight left now, for training purposes, or for restraining captives with. Should they get any.

She turned back to her slightly bruised apprentice. "Tell me, can you do anything with this 'hatred' of yours?"

[Ishmel Rykov]

Ishmel had been quite shocked at being pushed down by someone standing several yards away and was still recovering as he stumbled back to his former stance.

"Blood and ashes, I can kill people and from what I've read from Teras Kasi and from what I've tried of it, I can shatter brick walls and bend steel when I'm angry enough, even crack a man's skull in my hand."

Spitting dust from his mouth,

"Or a woman's."

Rykov could only guess what else she could do with the Force but the somewhat subtle threat had mixed well with the taste of the hatred, as if his words had almost been curved to suit his hatred.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"You will learn how to harness your anger, so you may shatter brick walls at will...and not just when you're furious." She shoved him back with the Force once more, harder than the first time. "Now attack me, and let us see how well you fare."

Lilaena quirked an eyebrow at him as he scrambled to his feet, and goaded him. "Come now, you said you could crack a woman's skull with your hand. I want to see if you can make good on your idle threats."

[Ishmel Rykov]

Ishmel growled, as he got to his feet. The witch could do that unseen fist stronger? How in the galaxy was Rykov to fight this? He could feel her provoking him. How else had he survived in the slums for so long if he didn't know when to back off. But she had called his bluff and told him to attack her. He had said he would follow her orders. With a grimace, he spat and charged at her.

He hated the odds and he was already mad enough. The scenery was blurring in his eyes as he focused his hatred in his arms and at De'Ville. That wonderful, bland taste filling his mouth.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

There was a strong sense of fury emanating from Ishmel, and De'Ville stood still, hands folded across her chest as she waited for him..

[Ishmel Rykov]

He charged at her, with a right hook flying out at her face as his left fist launched to follow up in her stomach, the moment her feet moved he would try to trip her. He knew how to fight and control his rage to fight well.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lightning fast, her hands shot out and she grabbed his right hand, squeezing his fist painfully. His left connected with her stomach, but she'd been flexing, anticipating such a move, and the pain was minimal.

Instead of moving her feet or turning on him, De'Ville concentrated her focus on his right fist, wordlessly crushing his hand within hers.

[Ishmel Rykov]

His mouth opened in pain as his legs buckled beneath him in surprise. Ishmel was down on one knee as he actually realized what had happened. She was too fast. He thought he was faster than the average street brawler but she was multiplied his own abilities.

"That's... not possible."

His gray eyes twitched from his fist to her eyes as he could almost sense something that he could only guess was her "hatred." She had a lot of it. He was astounded by how much "hatred" he thought he might be sensing at his right fist.

The situation flashed back to Rykov and he faced what had happened again. On his knees? Disabled so easily? Ishmel's strength was quickly waning in his right arm from the pain but the humiliation was fueling his own hatred. He focused on his right arm, trying to ease his hatred into his arm in an attempt to over power her and escape. His right hand struggled to be free as his left hand launched at her face.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

His free hand shot towards her, but she stepped backwards. Rykov was pulled off balance, his fist missing, and his right hand's joints popping painfully.

She finally released him, and stepped back once more, surveying him. "Had enough?"

[Ishmel Rykov]

He held his right arm in his left hand cautiously as he glared at De'Ville. He would not stop if it had been a real fight but he could see how easily she outclassed him for the moment and notice the lesson for what at least some of it was. He hated conceding but the thought of continuing seemed useless to Rykov. He concentrated on his hatred, the humiliation of losing so quickly and the pain in his arm, before clenching his right hand. It popped and cracked in return as he unclenched it and released it back to his side.

"I'd rather bite my leg off from this bear trap than say yes but I suppose I'll be needing the leg to follow your next orders, eh?"

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"Yes, most likely." She cracked her knuckled as she spoke. "Your impatience and your cockiness is your undoing. Try immersing yourself in your hatred...but allow it to cool off, while still holding onto the power you feel it gives you."

[Ishmel Rykov]

Ishmel's eye brow arched as she went into some indepth dren he didn't follow.

"My hatred is hotter than the Nine Hells, De'Ville. I don't think I can take a bath and it'll go away. And cockiness? You got me wrong lady. Anybody at home called me out like you did and it wouldn't 'ave been a problem. Ain't like they can all slam me into the ground with mind powers. I can't do that can I? Not to mention nobody's caught one of my punches like that, much less had their own bits o' hatred I could taste."

He'd give her the impatient bit though. It was not like he was going to sit around and wait to learn Teras Kasi or anything. He did his orders and Rykov expected his rewards in return.

He scratched his head through his messy long hair. Ishmel still did not get the last part after the word "undoing." Immersing in hatred and cooling off at the same time were two totally different sensations.