Public Echoes of Fury

[Naamino Zuukamano]

"Oh yeah?" He started snidely, "-know a lot of 14 year old grand moffs, huh?"

But his eyes flicked to Diarch Reign and he immediately made to school his baser, more petty instincts. He chided himself silently for getting snappy simply because the man before him had taken the sly bait of his goad and run with it. That was not future leader behavior and he knew it.

"No, jokes aside- I know I’m scrawny still."

His arms fell away from across his chest and he gestured to himself, as if to say "clearly I'm not ready yet."

The zabrak continued in a more even tone, his expression again becoming neutral, perhaps even deferential.

"I have much to learn and far more training ahead of me if I'm to become worthy of leadership. And no-" he gestured with an open palm to Gavin Vel as if handing him back his point, "True leadership would be the willingness and ability to execute the orders you intend to give others. I'll be in the pilot's seat or on the field if I have it my way- the command deck is meant only for the largest scale skirmishes where you can effectively oversee the most people."

That last part sounded straight from a tactics lesson or holotext on the topic. Naami seemed to realize he was going too far astray and perhaps even being rude by speaking where Darth reign might wish to interject so he concluded simply.

"I'm just a soldier right now, a green one at that, but I'll earn my place. Seems like I could learn from you even- must've gotten all that mass from some kind of hard work."
It was as close to Naami would get to apologizing, but it was sincere.

 

[Diarch Reign]

Reign chuckled softly to himself, this was to be either the start of a friendship for the ages, or a rivalry that will push both acolytes to new heights. He allowed the verbal jabs to continue for a moment. When Gavin reached for his blade, Reign was sure to look into the big man’s eyes, seeing if he’d let his baser instincts control him, or if he would heed the Sith Lords first lesson.

When he withdrew his hand and opted instead for verbal jabs, Reign was impressed. He also, took note of the Zabrak’s self awareness and his quick course correction in the presence of the Sith Lord.

“Tell me, Acolytes, you aspire for power, to lead, I assume you have aspirations for house Rakghoul. For which, you two are in luck, during my time here, I have come to be the sponsor of the house. There are many paths Rakghoul can offer you, but, I will not suffer the weak to bear the seal of the great Sith spawn of my homeworld.”

He stepped between the two acolytes, this location would work for what he had in mind, a nexus in the force would increase the acolytes’ strength. Removing his outer robe, he looked at both the acolytes in turn, letting the challenge in his voice be heard.

“It is in house Rakghoul that you will learn to lead, or where you will learn to harness and hold the power of a warrior of the dark side. But you must prove yourself, only the strongest, the most tactically astute, the greatest leaders and warriors will advance in this house. An initiation is in order. An initiation that will take the form of a duel, with the sponsor of your house. Come BOYS it is time for you to prove your worth.”

As his words hung in the air, he unclipped his black and electrum plated lightsaber hilt from his belt. He did not ignite the blade yet, letting the acolytes choose whether they would rise to the occasion or slip backwards into anonymity.

Gavin Vel Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Gavin Vel]

Gavin met Naamino’s retort with a smirk, a glint of respect mixed with challenge in his eyes. For someone smaller to stand up to him, especially with Gavin’s imposing build, took a measure of bravery that he could respect, even if he didn’t agree with Naamino’s view of leadership. Gavin dismissed Naamino’s concept of "true" leadership. In his view, there was a clear line between bravery and cowardice. A brave man didn’t just stand at the back, issuing orders—he took action himself. The kind of leader Naamino described, one who led from a distance, was a figure Gavin didn’t believe existed. To him, this idea was just an illusion created by people too afraid to face battle themselves.

Then, Darth Reign mentioned House Rakghoul, and Gavin felt a jolt of surprise. Reign sponsors Rakghoul? The idea sent a surge of excitement through him. He’d been waiting to be chosen by a House, and this felt like his moment. His mind raced with the implications, wondering if Reign’s involvement with Rakghoul was a sign—an invitation, even—to prove himself worthy of it.

When Reign suggested they fight, Gavin’s surprise transformed into something raw and primal, a fierce thrill igniting within him. For a split second, he felt a flicker of doubt, recalling Reign’s lesson on patience. But the hesitation was fleeting, swept aside by the intoxicating thrill of impending violence. His focus narrowed, his body buzzing with anticipation.

Without hesitation, Gavin grabbed his training saber, igniting it mid-swing as he let out a primal yell. He launched himself toward Reign, his saber slashing forward in a powerful arc. Naamino’s presence faded from his mind entirely; in this moment, nothing mattered but the fight. This was what he lived for—the violent clash, the surge of adrenaline, the raw power that made him feel alive.

Diarch Reign Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

The boy's eyes widened as Diarch Reign spoke, realization dawning that this was a pivotal moment for him. That a random urge to hike had warmed him up perfectly for combat, had brought him to this exact moment as if it was fated for him to receive this challenge. Then with no decorum whatsoever, the other first year charged in without any apparent forethought.

"Crikking laserbrain-" Naami managed to huff under his breath as Gavin Vel immediately sprang toward the challenge.

For his part, the zabrak was grateful he'd only eaten part of his sandwich and that the staff he'd been using as a walking stick was well within his reach. Naami snatched it up and dashed in a semi-circle hoping to capitalize on Gavin's direct charge with a quick flanking maneuver. While the older student was clearly stronger, the younger had perhaps a slight advantage of lithe agility which he planned to utilize. Having a split second to register Gavin sweeping high, Naamino swept low with the intention of scattering rock, sand, and other desert debris into the Lord's space. He thought to disrupt his footing, cause a distraction and perhaps even affect visibility. Unfortunately the area of effect for such a sweeping move didn't account for fighting with a companion.

 

[Diarch Reign]

Reign anticipated the big man to rush forward, what he’d told him during their conversation had allowed Reign to get a read on him. The Zabrak too, off to the side, at least one of them was thinking tactically.

Never one to back down from a fight, Reign met the charge head on, turning sideways so the blade passed in front of him. Augmenting his already impressive physical strength with the force, he attempted to drive his fist into Gavin’s kidney. If the big man was quick enough he could dodge it.

Feeling his footing slip slightly, he turned his gaze to the Zabrak, using the force he pulled the boy slightly, not hard enough to throw him, but enough to show he knew he was there. And get him within reach.

Gavin Vel Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Gavin Vel]

Gavin’s blade came inches from Darth Reign, but with a speed that defied Gavin’s instincts, Reign sidestepped, letting the blade strike the ground. Gavin grunted, the jolt reverberating up his arm, but he barely paused. Driven by raw instinct, he angled his saber for another attack, aiming a slash to make dodging more difficult.

Before he could complete the motion, a fierce blow struck his side. The pain was blinding, a visceral shock that stole the air from his lungs, forcing him to stumble back as he clutched his side. His body screamed in protest, but his mind, fogged by the heat of battle, refused to yield. He glanced up, catching sight of Reign shifting his focus toward Naamino, using the Force to draw him in.

For a brief second, a more strategic part of Gavin’s mind recognized the opportunity to regroup. He could’ve reassessed, positioned himself better, even tried to sync his attacks with Naamino. But those thoughts vanished in an instant, drowned by the primal urge surging through him. With a furious roar, he charged back in, his blade raised in a powerful arc aimed directly at Reign’s back. He no longer saw Reign as a teacher or a Sith Lord—only an opponent he was determined to overpower, no matter the cost.

Diarch Reign Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

The boy yelped as his body was suddenly yanked forward. He stumbled but steadied himself, finding his footing amongst the debris he'd just scattered and hefting the staff once more. Naami recognized that the only real advantage he had directly engaging would be reach. Time felt weirdly slowed as his adrenaline began pumping and his senses started to attune to the strange power of Diarch Reign , as well as the nexus thrumming beneath their feet.

In the strange liminal space he'd found at the start of battle, the Zabrak remembered an encounter not long ago. A powerful and deadly creature had approached him casually after his first ever duel- she'd practically lectured him while he lay in agony from the bite of a pelko blade. Her words came back even as he took a big swing at the Master Sith's side, still trying to keep distance from him.

"Stick isn't the only weapon, should have kicked when prey's attention was elsewhere." - Myunnah

Not exactly relevant, but it was true that the measly stick he wielded was surely not going to stand up against the likes of his opponent. Naami would need to get creative. Particularly if he wanted to avoid getting struck in the way Gavin Vel had been.

 

[Diarch Reign]

Reign heard Gavin’s roar of defiance, knew the strike was coming, but had mistimed his move just slightly, and was rewarded with a sting of pain along his back. Distracted by this, he failed to deflect the strike by the walking stick, the makeshift weapon striking into his ribs.

Fueled suddenly by the pain and subsequent rage, he turned clasped his hand on the end of the stick that had just struck him. Bringing his other hand across, he snapped the stick in half.

Whirling around, with the stick end still in his hand, he disengaged slightly, putting space between himself and the larger opponent.

“Good, wonderful use of distraction Naamino, but be warned, I see you now”

Turning to Gavin he motioned at the big man, knowing with the Zabrak’s weapon shortened, he would be less likely to attack him directly.

“If you can land another hit, I’ll take you myself to build your lightsaber, come on big guy, surely you can take me! Prove yourself, show your merit!”
He goaded Gavin, knowing if he could make him lose control it would be an easy victory and a valuable lesson. To add insult, he hurled the stick end at his opponent.

Gavin Vel Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Gavin Vel]

As Gavin’s and Naamino’s attacks made contact, a triumphant “Ah ha!” burst from his lips, his shout echoing with the thrill of having finally struck a Sith Lord. In his warped, battle-driven mind, even a minor hit was confirmation that he was every bit as powerful as he believed. The primal fury boiling inside him wiped away any rational thought, replacing it with pure bloodlust.

After his strike, he paused, watching Reign snap Naamino’s weapon with effortless precision. For a moment, a flicker of sympathy for the smaller acolyte crossed his mind, acknowledging that Naamino had indirectly helped him land his hit. But the thought was fleeting. Battle’s waves washed it away in an instant, especially as Reign’s taunting gaze refocused on him. The hint of strategy and partnership he’d felt vanished, replaced by a renewed confidence in his own strength.

Gavin raised his training saber high, pointing it toward Reign, his eyes blazing. “I’ll prove to you that I’m the greatest student you’ll ever teach! By the end of today, everyone will know me as the Sith Lord slayer!” His voice was filled with a mix of defiance and exhilaration, feeding his own conviction.

With a wild laugh, he launched himself at Reign, oblivious to the risks. His confidence blinded him to the gaps in his form and his reckless lack of coordination. The idea that his success came from their previous, accidental teamwork was lost on him. He swung his saber with raw force, bringing it down in a powerful yet clumsy arc as if he were a circus strongman, not a Sith-in-training.

In this moment, the Force surged around him, but he made no attempt to harness it. Reign’s lessons on patience and control were locked away, unreachable amid his fervor. He was open, vulnerable to a counter, but his battle-fueled ego left him blissfully unaware of the danger he faced.

Diarch Reign Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Surprise and excitement fluttered briefly through the boy, before awe then even the bright bloom of fear rose like a fire in his chest. The way Diarch Reign so decisively turned his borrowed staff into two broken pieces made his hearts thunder and gave him yet further pause at thought of approach. He was momentarily grateful for his laserbrained fellow student who seemed eager for a beating. Naamino cantered hastily back and to the side, reevaluating with the brief reprieve he'd been granted.

The strangest sensation overcame him as survival instinct melded with his overwhelming desire to prove himself worthy. It was as if he was at the center of a massive upswell of music, like he stood in the pit of a crowd at the peak of a gonkrock song and could feel the song reverberating through his bones. For his part, the Sith master might sense a spike darkness gathering within and around the zabrak. Unpracticed and untrained but powerful, prompted by their geographic location and the sense of immediate danger Reign successfully imparted.

The boy's form began to blur, every move he made leaving a strange stuttering afterimage. He was clearly not aware of it- not really, but he felt more certain than ever that he had to do whatever he could not to get hit. A punch like what his teacher landed on Gavin Vel would likely count him out of this fight for good, and he was determined to land two more hits. To prove that he could, that he was worthy to grow into the warrior and leader he dreamed he could be. Naami waited for his next opening, staying fast on his feet without the weight of the pack he'd carried miles to get here.

 

[Diarch Reign]

Gavin had taken the bait, charging in recklessly with a powerful overhead strike, his overconfidence after landing a hit glaring. Reign smiled, not the friendly or wise smile of a teacher, no. This was the smile of a predator.

Coming inside of Gavin’s reach, close up to his body, Reign landing two quick punches to the big man’s sternum, using the force to launch him backwards across the spire after the second impact. (OOC: approval from Gavin to throw him)

The big man down for the moment, Reign turned his attention to the Zabrak, there was an intense power in the force coming from the boy, and as his form blurred, Reign recognized the ability he was touching.

A vicious smile on his face, and the threat of destruction heavy in his tone The Dark Lord said
“Ah, similfuturus.. but unrefined, untrained. A worthwhile attempt boy, but you’ll need to do better”

Reign understood the Zabrak was fast, and the blur of his form was straining his eyes, but the Diarch was still fuming from the hit he’d taken.

As he stalked slowly towards the boy, he poured all of his malice and power into the force, even as untrained as he was, the young Zabrak would recognize the difference in the looming shadow that was his opponent in the trials, and the all encompassing darkness that was a Sith Lord in all his power.

Gavin Vel Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Gavin Vel]

How quickly Gavin's thrill of battle had twisted into pain and panic. The two fierce punches to his sternum left him gasping for air, barely able to register the shockwave that followed, launching him into the air before he could even draw breath. In an instant, he found himself hurtling toward the Spire. His one way, first class ticket, on the Darth Reign Force Push Airline was short lived. He crashed into the Spire, the impact jarring every inch of his body as he slid down and collapsed face-first onto the ground.

For a few agonizing moments, all he could do was gasp, his chest ablaze with pain. Just minutes before, his mind had been consumed by the thrill of proving himself. Now, shame gnawed at him, filling the hollow spaces left by his failure. Memories clawed at the edges of his mind, unwelcome but overpowering—the orphanage, the older boys taking his food while he, a small and helpless child, could do nothing but beg. He had vowed never to feel that weak again, never to let anyone make him small.

And yet here he was, struggling to breathe, his vow shattered. With labored breaths, he forced himself upright, his gaze fixed on Reign as the Sith Lord stalked toward Naamino. Gavin could see his fellow acolyte wielding some form of Force power, though Reign’s oppressive aura seemed to smother it, as if mere proximity to the Sith Lord drained any attempt they made.

For a fleeting moment, Gavin thought about giving in. Who would blame him? His chest felt like it had been crushed, and each breath was a raw ache. Collapsing would be easier, and even if he did, he figured he’d still have earned a level of respect simply for facing a Sith Lord.

But then he saw Naamino, still standing against Reign. Gavin might have been reckless, arrogant, and hell-bent on proving himself superior, but in that moment, seeing Naamino still fighting stirred something unexpected. He realized that he’d left Naamino alone to face Reign, charging in thoughtlessly without strategy or unity. If they had any hope of standing against Reign, it would be together. The fight wasn’t over—not yet.

Then he felt it. A surge, primal and raw, coursing through him, stronger than anything he’d managed to grasp before. Pain, failure, and his unyielding drive to prove himself collided within him, forming a connection to the Force unlike anything he’d felt. It was wild, uncontained, clawing at him like a starved beast, ready to be unleashed.

With a fierce roar, Gavin sprang to his feet, adrenaline flooding his limbs as he felt the Force pulse through him. “I'M NOT DONE YET!" he bellowed, hoping his shout would buy Naamino the time he needed.

He charged at Reign, his body moving faster than he thought possible, propelled by a burst of Force-fueled energy. His gaze caught his training saber lying nearby, flung from his grasp in the shockwave. Without thinking, he thrust out his hand, willing the saber to return to him. It flew to his palm as if by instinct, and with a leap, he caught it mid-air, igniting the blade above his head. His roar filled the Spire as he brought the blade down upon Reign, fully aware that this could be his last strike, his last moment in this fight. But he hoped, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Naamino would see his opening and use it.

Diarch Reign Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Despite the strain of physical exertion and no small amount of adrenaline coursing through his veins, Naamino's face suddenly blanched with a surge of new fear. He could not let it take hold, fear was the killer of ambition, however he was suddenly viscerally aware of just how outclassed he was. It's one thing to know something logically, but an entirely different beast when you're confronted with it in the flesh.

The zabrak maintained his movement, zigging diagonally in the direction his errant classmate had flown, as his slender chest heaved with exertion. Unbeknownst to him his form stuttered and flickered at the edges even more than before, two images of the boy overlaid imperfectly to play games with the eyes- an unconscious strengthening of the defense system his spirit erected against the prospect of a foe he certainly could not face alone. To his credit and despite his fears, Naami darted in with a holler to jab at Diarch Reign with the broken tip of the staff. He had no idea that Gavin Vel was in fact still alive and rushing to his aid that very moment.

 

[Diarch Reign]

At the big man’s bellow, Reign’s attention was diverted from the now semi duplicated Zabrak, and the strike from the broken stick that hit him.

Seeing the massive form flying through the air at him, Reign felt the stirrings of pride. Yes it was an instinctual grasp of the force, but one wielded with great power.

He called his own lightsaber hilt into his hand, igniting the crimson blade he blocked high. The force of Acolyte Vel’s fall dropping him to a knee as the blades clashed.

Regaining his feet, he brought his face within inches of the acolyte’s, the words he said to him almost a whisper “Remember this day with pride Acolyte Vel, for you have dueled a Sith Lord, and lived to tell the tale.”

finishing his sentence, a smirk on his face, he cocked his head backwards, and with strength amplified by the force, brought his head crashing into the acolyte’s with a resounding crack.

Turning his attention back to the Zabrak, he smiled at him. Though this smile had none of the warmth it had when they first met.

He could feel his power being amplified by the nexus around him, drawing forth a strength he had only accomplished once before.

“When you regain your senses, we will discuss this duel more thoroughly. You’ve done well, but now you will taste true power”

With this, he ripped into the youth’s mind, pushing aside a surprisingly astute mental defense, and forced the young Zabrak to relive his worst memories, on repeat, until he was a mess upon the floor.

Gavin Vel Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Gavin Vel]

As Gavin’s blade arced downward, he was met with the sharp, crimson glow of Reign’s lightsaber. The clash filled the air with a hiss, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, Gavin felt the weight of his attack drive the Sith Lord to his knees. Relief washed over him—had he actually done it? Had he forced Reign to yield? But his triumph was short-lived. With an effortless movement, Reign rose to his feet, brushing off the blow as though it had been nothing more than an inconvenience.

“Remember this day with pride, Acolyte Vel, for you have dueled a Sith Lord, and lived to tell the tale.”

The words struck Gavin like a revelation, filling him with conflicting emotions—pride at having come this far, awe at Reign’s power, and confusion at his own apparent weakness. Despite giving everything he had, it felt as if his efforts had left no mark. And as quickly as it had come, the rush of the Force drained from his body, leaving him hollow and barely able to stand. He teetered on his feet, every muscle screaming for relief, but sheer stubbornness kept him from falling.

Darth Reign, however, gave him no opportunity to stand defiantly. Without a word, Reign cocked his head back and delivered a brutal headbutt, his smaller frame somehow unleashing a force that felt like a hammer to Gavin’s skull. Stars exploded in Gavin’s vision, and before he could even register the pain, darkness overtook him.

He didn’t hear anything, didn’t feel the cold ground as he collapsed, utterly defeated. He lay sprawled out, his training saber slipping from his hand. Blood trickled from his shattered nose, and his face bore a mixture of pride and pain—a reflection of the hard lesson he had learned atop the Nexus Spire.

In the silence that followed, Gavin’s unconscious form lay testament to the battle’s intensity, a stark reminder of the gap between ambition and mastery. Yet, even in defeat, he had left his mark—a fledgling warrior who dared to strike against a Sith Lord.

Diarch Reign Naamino Zuukamano

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Naamino's defenses were paltry shelters from the storm of a fully realized Sith Lord, let alone one so fueled by the nexus spire. The boy suddenly froze, rigid with a new kind of pain the likes of which he'd never experienced. He'd thought the pelko blades were brutal with their stinging, almost burning paralytic. But this was something else entirely.

The broken staff clattered to the ground and Naami clutched his head, eyes screwed shut in a silent grimace. The boy soon dropped to his knees- no longer aware of his surroundings but the illusory static of his outline still seemed to be in effect, up until he fell writhing in the dirt. All sense of time stopped for him and all he knew was psychic agony.

For his part, Diarch Reign was granted visions of the boy's past. Memories that it would soon become clear that Naamino previously had no access to because he had been too young at the time in order to later recall. But the dark side was powerful and Reign witnessed the unearthing of the zabrak's worst days.

The harsh and grating sounds of sirens, distant shouts and terrified screams, an even farther off series of rapid explosions the likes of which most closely resembled aerial bombardment. Dirt, debris and smoke filled the air. All around a cloying sense of death seemed to taint the scene. For the spectral observer- it would be disorienting to find the source of the memory at first, its subject half buried in rubble. Naamino Zuukamano was but an infant sheltered in the arms of his dead mother, their home having collapsed atop them.

His strong, desperate little voice rang out amidst the chaos of war. That reedy call would wail on into the night, unanswered for hours to come and eventually the boy would learn his earliest lesson: crying out for help is pointless.

 

[Diarch Reign]

Reign observed the memory impassively, something buried this deep would have bubbled to the surface eventually. Better the boy face it now than be debilitated by it later.

The Sith Lord released his hold on the young Zabrak’s mind and watched as he dealt with the inner torture he was enduring.

He looked at the two acolytes on the ground thinking perhaps I went a bit too far? No.. they need to see what they can accomplish, to know where they stand but also what they can rise to become. he smiled softly then. Thinking of his own family in Bastion.

“ Lady Nocturne won’t be too thrilled with me when she hears I’ve picked up two more. Ah well, I’ll bring sweets back, that’ll lesson the blow” he said with a soft chuckle to himself.

Waiting for the acolytes to recover, the Dark Lord meditated, thinking of the spire he was in, and the lessons that had transpired in its shadow.

Gavin Vel Naamino Zuukamano