Private Before The Comedown

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Immediately After the Invasion
Leaving Woostri
Aboard Vorpal Fang
Destination: Korriban to Return Kor'ethyr Students

Outfit:
Belt of Strength, Field Com-Scan Link, Longsleeve Second Skin Underarmor
Thigh Armor/ Greaves/ Boots from Kainate Trooper Armor,
Weal & Woe

Tags: Lysander von Ascania & Interested Badawans

​

Few words had been exchanged by Haro Aven and his surly zabrak companion. The two were now bonded in battle but more than that, Naamino Zukkamano owed the boy his life. Not only was such an act on par with some of the most sacred traditions of his people, who measured the merits of their bonds through survival in war or strife and by testing their mettle against eachother in times of peace, but it also solidified the tentative trust slowly developing between them.

After this day, gone would be the suspicious glances or snide remarks, with steadfast loyalty growing in their place. Haro had more than earned Naami's respect and had even risen to a place of high regard which few other people occupied. For now, that all went unspoken but it showed in the way he was checking in on his peer as the Vorpal Fang rattled and jittered a bit leaving Woostri's atmosphere.

Tensions still ran high. It could be felt heavy in the air between surviving students, staff, and accompanying troopers. Restlessness was how some vented it, whilst others sat staring at nothing, still others chatted animatedly about their conquests or very near misses. For his part, Naami had to stay focused on a task or else his mind threatened to dip back into that strange battle-haze. A pit of darkness lingered deep in his spiritual core and it was almost too alluring, promising a balm against the fatigue of his body. He pushed that away and continued helping Haro with the doffing process.

Checking his friend for injuries, he made note of a few places where blaster fire grazed the armor but thankfully left them both unfazed beneath. With quiet diligence he focused on getting them both to a state where they might be able to debrief or, barring that, try to settle in for the journey back. Rest as a possibility still seemed far afield but perhaps the adrenaline comedown would hit soon.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naamino Zuukamano Haro Aven

​

The stealth frigate was humming back to Korriban as Lysander made his way towards the preparation room. The boy's steps were silent, but his battle mindset, paired with bloodlust, roared loudly. Adrenaline continued pumping through his veins.

A vast array of emotions churned within, partially triggered by the replayed images of his sister facing off against the Neti and her Sithspawn. A primal and protective instinct kindled to life deep in his core. Doubt would gnaw at his stomach. Despite only being an acolyte for a short time, he already felt more loyal to the Sith than he ever did to the Jedi and their false teachings. Yet, even with this loyalty, there was an increasing desire to stab his professor.

Then a flicker of anger spread through his chest, threatening to consume him entirely.

Unlike earlier, there wasn't an outlet.

Under his helmet, a sharp hiss of frustration escaped Lysander’s lips. His pulse then thrummed with thoughts of the Cathar and his unorthodox tactics with a musical instrument. Thoughts of using the academy knife to field dress and skin the fool surfaced, offering a few seconds of satisfaction amidst the storm brewing.

The decrease in student numbers was impossible to miss. He felt indifferent towards the observation though, for not a single bond had been formed with any of them.

Unfortunately, the Zabrak was not one amongst that group to vanish. He easily recognized the other boy, too. Their camaraderie was obvious, and Lysander even felt envious of it. All thoughts were broken as his shoulder collided with Haro. However, he dismissed it without a single word and strolled onward to a nearby table.

Removing the armored headpiece, a burst of heat escaped, and he inhaled a breath of fresh air. Strands of blonde hair were plastered to his forehead. They were pushed back as the acolyte released a soft sigh.

As Lysander's eyes narrowed, like a Nexu stalking prey, he shed the heavy cloak that clung to him, soaked from the rain. The fabric fell to the floor beside him. His attention was drawn back to Haro and Naamino, the two of them maintaining his focus effortlessly. During a moment for introspection, his gaze lingered, locked on them.

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Momentarily distracted with looking at his datapad to review their debrief checklist, Naami hadn't seen the teen coming. His head snapped up and around to watch as Lysander von Ascania sat and the zabrak glowered back at him, growling over his shoulder.

"Watch where you're fethin' walking."

 

[Haro Aven]

​

LOCATION: EXPANSION REGION > WOOSTRI SPACE > ABOARD THE VORPAL FANG​

EQUIPMENT: Bodie | Field Com-Scan Link | Kor'ethyr-Issued Sith Trooper Armor (Permission) | Vibroknives | "The Vora" Hand Canon | EMP Grenades | Smoke Grenades | Electronic Lock Breaker ​

TAGS: Naamino Zuukamano | Lysander von Ascania ​

In contrast to his friend, Haro was having a hard time staying focused on any one thing. He kept freezing up, distracted by tangental thoughts and menial details, as if his mind was trying to overload itself in an effort to distract from the looming dread that threatened to overwhelm him. Prioritizing and executing even the simplest of tasks felt insurmountable so he just tried to stay focused on Naamino Zuukamano and follow his lead. For a long moment, he just watched Naami as he diligently helped Haro with his armor, checked him for wounds, and kept track of both of their checklists for them. Haro could tell Naami wasn't OK either, yet the Zabrak soldiered on and took care of them both without complaint or expectation. Haro felt a sudden welling up of gratitude for his friend. He found himself so incredibly grateful that he wasn't alone and that he and Naami were both safe and uninjured, unlike so many who were lost back on Woostri. He very nearly voiced his gratitude to Naami when he caught movement in his periphery and looked over just as Lysander von Ascania bumped against his shoulder passing by.

The unexpected contact startled Haro and he grunted in surprise, drawing Naami's attention to what had happened. Haro turned to watch the tall blonde boy walk away with cautious dismay. The cold predatory glare Lysander levied their way made it undeniably clear that it had not been an accident. Was this guy really trying to pick a fight with them after all they'd been through? Haro just shook his head, fully intending to ignore the guy but, of course, Naami took the bait and snapped back. Haro gave his friend a cautionary look and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Just ignore him. He's not worth our time," he muttered under his breath in as disarming a tone as he could muster in an effort to douse the spark Lysander was foolishly trying to light before it blew out of proportion.​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naamino Zuukamano Haro Aven

​

He stood there for several heartbeat as the first spoke. The silence itself was already tense; the acolyte could feel electricity in the air between them. His brow furrowed as he then shifted his full focus on the Zabrak. A subtle twitch danced at the corner of his mouth, veiling the emotions that churned within; his words were but an echo of Lysander’s own sentiments.

His gaze flickered towards Haro next– this one was more composed. Nonetheless, instincts were ignited by the adrenaline that continued surging through his veins. Fight or flight, a choice wired into his being since birth, came to life. But as he further observed the two, he realized there was no real threat; instead, his mind was just a storm of frustration.

The moment of stillness came to an end as he closed the distance that separated them. There was a strong desire to assert himself, and he wasn’t about to just let the Zabrak’s disrespect go unchallenged, regardless of which side of the Force he found himself on. “Perhaps you should watch your fethin’ mouth, Naamino,” he said, his voice like a blade wrapped in silk. “You're lucky I didn’t slap the chit out of you back on Valrar.” With that, he turned his back on them, purposely, reminding them of their place to him.

But a single step later, he felt it— pulses of white hot anger flaring uncontrollably, like a volcano ready to erupt, an invitation to something he couldn’t ignore any longer. Everything shifted. Lysander’s body tensed first, then coiled, and finally, it would act on its own. Spinning around, he began generating raw power from the ground, a natural response from his rigorous training in hand to hand combat. The energy transferred through his arm, and the acolyte's fist shot out with lethal intent, directly at Haro. It surprised even him, aggression fueled by something darker, rather than logic. The thirst for violence had obviously not been fully satisfied back on Woostri. Had there been other reasons, they eluded him then.

 

[Haro Aven]

Naamino Zuukamano | Lysander von Ascania ​

​

Haro could feel Lysander's eyes on him as he was trying to calm his friend and he risked a glance in his direction. It appeared Naami's words had unfortunately but unsurprisingly antagonized Lysander enough for the blonde boy to close the distance between them and square up. Haro felt Naami move in to meet the challenge head on but he tightened his grip on Naami's shoulder and pulled him back, stepping between them.

"Hey, whoa, man. Back off," Haro said in a calm but warning tone, a clear reminder that Naami wasn't alone and Lysander was outnumbered.
"Perhaps you should watch your fethin' mouth, Naamino," Lysander spat. "You're lucky I didn't slap the chit out of you back on Valrar."

Pushed beyond his limits and still reeling from the adrenaline, Haro's frustration finally flared in earnest and he scowled as Lysander turned away. He couldn't believe this guy would try to pick a fight with one of his own after all that over nothing just to... what? Blow off steam? Show off how tough he was?

"We're all lucky to be alive, Lysander," he reasoned, a bitter solemnity in his voice. "Maybe you should--"

Lysander suddenly spun around and lashed out at Haro with a powerful swing. The shock factor and speed of the skilled punch left Haro with no time to properly block but his Kage reflexes allowed him to roll with the punch so as not to take the full impact of the strike. Lysander's fist still connected with the side of his face and he stumbled backward, bringing his hands up instinctively in a defensive stance. He was momentarily stunned by the bright hot pain that burned through his cheekbone and stung his eye but he had at least avoided being knocked out or severely concussed.​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

The camaraderie felt by Naami for Haro was perhaps the only thing that stopped him initiating the fight himself. Though his friend couldn't easily move his sturdy frame by the firm hand on the zabrak's shoulder, Haro made sure to put himself between the two more hot headed teens. Naami still squared up, certain the bantha fodder human was going to be gunning for him.

CRACK!​

Shock, then what felt like an infinite amount of rage. That bastard had swung on Haro and Naami was seeing red.

One of the other students hollered "Fight!" while the commotion drew more than a few curious sets of eyes. One slender umbaran girl quickly closed the nearest blast doors and activated boarding protocol so that Kor'ethyr staff might be slowed in their attempt to intervene.

Naami charged forward into the space Haro had just staggered from, ready with an open handed swing of his own. He sought to "slap the chit" out of the taller boy for his insolence, then made to follow up with a low kick toward Lysander's knee with his heavily armored boot. The momentum of which twisted him into a more aggressive ready stance.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naamino Zuukamano Haro Aven
​

The thud from his fist connecting with the side of Haro’s face was oddly satisfying, a punch fueled by blind rage. Time began to stretch. He noted the boy’s hands instinctively rising to protect himself, which didn’t entirely surprise him, as it was rare for a fighter to ever be given a free hit; retaliation was always expected. It only served to fuel the tempest of flames within the acolyte.

Apparently, the entire academy was drawn in, as the word “Fight!” rang through the air like a blaster shot.

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Naturally, his body responded; the blonde pushed off with his lead foot while loading up his main hand for another strike. But unexpectedly, a sharp sting was felt along the edge of his jawline. And then there was something else— an object flying through the air, appearing to come from a nearby group.

What the feth?

Like a seasoned fighter, blessed with a bit of luck on his side, his head slipped to one side, dodging the projectile. But before he could regain his stance, another blow struck him. A jolt of pain radiated through his knee, throwing his weight forward. If there had been any trauma, the adrenaline surging would temporarily mask it. Still, it broke his balance. And while his striking game wasn’t terrible, the ground was where he truly thrived. Using whatever opportunity that presented itself, he launched himself forward for a takedown. With precision, his goal was to grab both of the boy’s legs, lift him, and then drive the Zabrak to the ground.

The energy around them was seething with energy both ominous and malevolent. Something hateful flickered in Lysander’s emerald orbs, feeding off the power now flowing through the air aboard the Vorpal Fang.

A circle had begun to form around them, composed of figures wearing black garments or obsidian armor, true to Sith fashion.

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

The well of darkness he previously sought to resist in their post-battle quietude suddenly boiled up. That inert pool becoming a stream, coursing through his veins, power there and for the taking. As if a wrathful hound was rising up within Naamino to challenge a similar force within Lysander von Ascania , raging against the bars of prior self control, only to find the cage unlocked.

A grunt escaped him as the other combatant rammed into him with a grab at his legs. The zabrak's dense bones and sturdy form were even heavier than usual given he was half armored, but his opponent was strong and skilled. Naami retaliated with a hammer-like elbow aimed at the back of the boy's head, while his other hand sought purchase on the mid-back of his assailant. It was an instinctive bid to twist his own body free of the hold a bit, to hamper what otherwise might've been a perfect pin.

OOF!​

Breath whooshed out of him with a thump. His thick skull was fine on impact but he'd need a moment to catch his breath. Naami curled a bit, bringing his arms in to guard and tipping his chin down toward his chest so his horns were brought to bear, his current focus was on defense and negating the grapple when he could.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naamino Zuukamano Haro Aven

​

From experience born out of training sessions, rather than real world application, Lysander was typically capable of lifting his opponents effortlessly off the ground. But this time, something was definitely off. The strike to his knee seemed to have impacted him more than he thought, causing the takedown to feel more like a desperate tackle.

When the elbow came flying at his head, he instantly felt an electric pain shooting through his skull. His vision began spinning as he saw a storm of colors. Fortunately for Lysander, understanding the body's anatomy was now his ally; and unlike striking, he could still navigate confidently on the ground even while feeling dazed.

He refused to give away the upper hand in this confrontation. From there, he would transition to the back by maneuvering to Naamino's side. Trying to push aside the throbbing ache, he positioned his body slightly away from the threat of horns. Still, the darkness crept along the edges of his consciousness as he was seeing double, but with a guttural growl emanating from his throat, he kept pushing and coiled both legs around Naamino's waist. The move sent another agonizing shot through his knee, but he continued, determined to secure a lock by crossing his ankles.

The acolyte knew he needed to move quickly. A well of fury was pulsing in Lysander’s heart, feeling more determined here on the space shuttle’s floor than he ever did back on Woostri. His next goal should’ve been to secure the upper body. But instead of going for the wrists or hands, he would attempt to snake his dominant arm around the Zabrak’s neck; though, even if it were successful, he was far from securing another lock. For now, he was just putting all his raw strength into gaining more control.

 

[Haro Aven]

Naamino Zuukamano | Lysander von Ascania ​

Blinking the stars from his vision, Haro held his hands up in defense but the follow up attack never came because Naami had immediately surged forward to retaliate. The loud crack of his open palm meeting Lysander's face bounced off the durasteel walls and Haro watched as Naami buckled the taller boy's knee with a brutal kick. His gaze snapped to the blast doors as they hissed shut then he quickly scanned the other students, noting with growing distrust and unease how they where drawing in closer, rioted by the violence like sharks scenting blood. Someone called out "fight!" and another tossed something into the brawl. Suddenly the safe haven of the Vorpal Fang didn't feel safe at all and Haro slipped back into the fight-or-flight he'd just been living on the battlefield.

Naami's "OOF!" as he hit the ground hard brought Haro's focus back to the brawl. That same protective instinct Haro experienced back in the control room almost had him reach for his blaster but he thought better of it. Instead, he stepped up to the pair just as Lysander was dropping to Naami's side and trying to snake an arm around his friend's throat, an angry scowl on his face.

"Get off him, you bastard!" Haro shouted and aimed to kick Lysander hard between the shoulder blades in an attempt to make him retract his arms and maybe knock the air from his lungs while he was at it.​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

It generally took a lot for Naami to holler or call out but he was mad, angrier than he had been... maybe ever. It wasn't like being in the midst of war, where being angry did about as much good as cursing at the wind. But in single combat? Naami sought to channel it. He felt Lysander shift in the grapple, the zabrak bucked against it but the human's hold 'round his waist was secure. He'd need to take the upper hand if he was going to make the boy pay for what he'd done.

"Naal grät!" he hissed in Zabraki through clenched teeth, his hand instinctively snapping up to grip the wrist that sought to encircle his neck.

"Get off him, you bastard!" Haro shouted and aimed to kick Lysander hard between the shoulder blades in an attempt to make him retract his arms and maybe knock the air from his lungs while he was at it.

Capitalizing on his friend's contribution, Naami yanked the arm he held in an iron grip forward and threw his spiked head backwards. With luck he might connect skull with face, but at the very least he hoped to shake Lysander's focus further.

Around them, students jeered and and shouted excitedly. One even appeared to be taking hasty bets. The remaining troopers knew better than to intervene. Though most of them technically held rank over the students of Kor'ethyr, none of them were feeling particularly enthusiastic about the prospect of breaking up two Force wielding, rage filled teens.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naamino Zuukamano Haro Aven ​

Lysander sought to secure his grip around Naamino’s throat against all resistance until he felt something strike him between the shoulder blades. Pain exploded across his back, firing straight down to the core. The concentration he had mustered was instantly broken, and any control over the upper body began to slip away. Still, his legs clung on, trying to hold the Zabrak's waist like his life depended on it.

While attuned to the currents of the Force, there was a flicker of warning, only to be reaffirmed as he felt a shift in Naamino’s body. Next came the sudden and violent force of the Zabrak’s head slamming into the side of his face. Something sharp split his eyebrow open. Lysander could taste the blood's metallic flavor as it began pouring down his face, trickling into an eye. Naturally, he recoiled, losing the lock with his legs.

Pain radiated through his skull as he rolled back. The cacophony around him was a blend of dark energy and excitement, a reflection of how he felt within. In a way that he couldn't fully grasp, and while his current appearance might suggest otherwise, part of him was having.. fun.

Once more, the acolyte was desperate to regain his composure, pushing back against all the panic that tried to consume him. Lysander was far from being a powerhouse; he always relied on speed and technique. Being surrounded by the chaotic noise reverberating off the shuttle’s walls and raw emotion, he nearly fell into the trap of believing he was failing.

He refused to let it end like this. As he pushed himself back to his feet, he gritted his teeth against the rush of dizziness. Blood pooled in the acolyte's mouth as he turned his head, narrowed his eyes, and spat it onto the ground.

 

[Haro Aven]

The kick gave Naami the opening he needed as intended, but Haro couldn't help wincing when the back of Naami's horned head slammed into Lysander's face. Haro quickly shuffled out of reach when Lysander recoiled from the pain and stepped up closer to Naami. He bent and offered his friend a helping hand to stand him up, keeping the blonde boy in his periphery.

Once Naami was on his feet again, Haro turned to level a warning glare at Lysander, hoping the guy would back down now that he'd taken a few hits. The effectiveness of Haro's threatening look fell short though when his eyes widened a bit at seeing all the blood pouring from the head wound. Lysander showed no signs of backing down but neither did he move in for another attack. For a fleeting moment, Haro thought it might be over but he was quickly disillusioned when Naami made it clear he fully intended to finish the fight Lysander had started.​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

An angry huff escaped him as Lysander disengaged, but it was probably for the best. Rolling quickly, Naami was about to stand when Haro was already there to help him up. He gave his friend a solemn nod, no time for anything else, but once again his gratitude for the lithe boy was immense.

Horned head tipped down, icy eyes glaring out from beneath his brow, Naami stalked forward with an aggressive air and his fists held up in a solid guard. He was dogged, unrelenting now that the young blond nobleman had picked a fight. The zabrak intended for this to finish only one way; with one of them broken on the metal floor.

Though he was strong and surprisingly acrobatic, he wasn't nearly as fast as Lysander. He'd have to hit like a like a ramship so that when he did connect, he made it count.

Jab

Cross strike​

Switch kick

​

Naami pressed the attack and though his punches were earnest, he put the most vitriol in that kick. Aimed directly at the same knee as before.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naamino Zuukamano Haro Aven
​

Blood from the gash in his brow continued trickling down his face, affecting the boy's vision with streaks of red. With a single eye, he still caught Haro’s glare, and it felt almost tangible. There was something more in that look; he would get his chance next. The prospect of such at least offered a jolt of adrenaline, something he desperately needed.

The expressions of all those circled around them suggested enjoyment, rather than concern about the violence taking place aboard the shuttle. They were clearly feeding off of it.

Oddly enough, even as he was fading in and out of the chaos, he was certain there was a voice taunting him from behind, along with laughter from peers who clearly enjoyed his struggle.

When Naamino began to press forward, Lysander’s instincts kicked back in. He angled his body to one side, making himself a smaller target versus just squaring up. He winced at the pain from his injured knee in the process. When the jab came, the acolyte slipped his head to the right, barely avoiding the punch while readying his left fist. He remembered one of the unwritten rules of hand-to-hand combat– sometimes you had to take one to deliver one.

Energy from the other students went up and down like a wave with every strike.

The overhand punch thrown felt more like a prayer, for it lacked the power he could usually generate. And as it was sent, he was met with the cross. It connected with a thud against the other side of his face, sending a spray of blood through the air.

The kick came immediately after– a sickening snap echoed through the room. Pain rippled up his leg like a shockwave, and he began falling backwards. Unsure whether his own punch landed or not, he then met the metal floor.

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Raw aggression and that up-welling of darkness propelled him forward. It mattered not that the gathered students were roaring, that a couple troopers on the periphery looked uneasily toward the locked down blast doors, the zabrak wasn't stopping. A solid hit to the temple slowed him temporarily, it landed hard enough to open a gash on his cheek.

His bones and musculature were denser than many other humanoids, but his skin was still much the same. So while he could tank more hits and pain than the average fifteen year old, he still bled as easily. Naami shook off the momentary rattle and sting of the blow when he saw his oppoent fold under the kick.

Viciously, the teen pounced onto the other. Not bothering to pin his legs, knowing one was likely useless now, Naami took a knee beside his opponent and dropped a hammering fist down toward his head. Any attempts to defend would be met by the enraged zabrak with an offhanded grab at the wrist.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naamino Zuukamano Haro Aven

​

Sharp stabs of pain ripped through the acolyte's body as his knee twisted at a grotesque angle. Lysander had experienced many types of injuries through his rigorous training over the years, but this pain was foreign, relentless, and seemed to have no end in sight. Even breathing felt uncomfortable.

The sounds of all other student faded away. Narrowing his only good eye, he tried to focus on Naamino, who was quickly closing the distance between them. With one wrist pinned, the other shot out for the curved hilt at his belt. There was no panic; it was as though he already accepted his fate. With little time to process the danger, the boy's fist struck like a hammer, causing his head to violently bounce off the floor. The impact reverberated through his skull, and the world around him began to spin.

Blood began pooling in his mouth even quicker now, while his vision blurred. However, true to Lysander's nature, with another impulse of rebellion, he gritted his teeth and looked up at his foe. "Feth you, Naamino!"

And though his strength was quickly fading, he summoned what was left and spit the warm liquid directly at the Zabrak's face.

 

[Haro Aven]

Naamino Zuukamano | Lysander von Ascania ​

​

Like an enraged bull reek, Naami closed the distance to Lysander with his horns down and guard up. Haro looked on, feeling conflicted as the two traded vicious blows. Sure, he was pissed that Lysander had picked a fight with them for seemingly no reason at all but he had a bad feeling about where this was going as the energy in the room grew more and more riotous with every passing moment. The crunch of Lysander's knee caving to Naami's kick curdled Haro's stomach and he winced. Before he knew it, Lysander was on the ground and Naami was over him, pinning one of his wrists and punching hard enough for the boy's head to bounce off the floor. Haro was about to say something to Naami, try to get him to stop, but his gaze flicked to where Lysander was grasping with his free hand for his... lightsaber hilt?!

Haro leaped into action and stomped down onto Lysander's wrist before it could find purchase on the hilt, holding his weight there, not hard enough to break bone but hard enough to stop him from continuing the pursuit for the deadly weapon. He then slipped Bodie from his pocket and tossed him toward the blast door.

"Get the doors open!" He called out to the little droid who unfurled in midair and stuck the landing on the wall. Bodie scurried over and plugged into the control panel.

"Naami! That's enough! You're gonna kill him!" Haro shouted to his friend, hoping his words would be enough to stop him before he went too far but he was prepared to try to pull him physically from Lysander if he had to. The last thing he wanted was yet another death on their hands.​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

As he was pulling back to power up another hit, Lysander swore at him and spat. The zabrak snarled angrily, vision suddenly blurred by blood and the instinct to flinch away from the unpleasant spray. He registered the approach and support of his friend, but rage still flowed freely through him.

As Haro juggled the task of preventing his opponent from drawing deadly weapon and deploying Bodie, Naamino slammed his head into Lysander's. It was a mean move, less precise than a proper hit but also didn't require quite as much accuracy as a punch. Neck tight with corded muscle and back flexed as if he might slam his thick skull back down again, Haro's words cut through the fog of fury.

Panting through clenched teeth, Naami glared down with wintry disdain for a long moment before pushing himself up to a stand. Fists clenched at his side, he glowered around at his encircling peers as their ruckus began to die back. The zabrak didn't roar his victory, didn't boast or brag or even threaten. Instead, intense eyes scanned the crowd and he communicated with a silent grimace.

"No one messes with me or my people. If they try, they pay dearly."

Finally, flustered Kor'ethyr staff pushed through the doors Bodie just finished opening. The gathered students dispersed, not wanting to be the first to face reprimand.