GO GHOULS
Location: Korriban - Kor'ethyr Academy - Nexus Spire
Gavin trudged through the searing sands of Korriban, each step stirring up clouds of dust in the unforgiving desert air. The harsh sun bore down on him, but he welcomed the weight of the heat; it was the sting of a planet shaped by wrath and ambition, a fitting home for his own brewing storm. He was still only an Initiate, not yet a true Sith, but in these arid wastes, Gavin had begun to feel the faint, simmering pulse of the dark side thrumming through his veins.
For as long as he could remember, his rages had been unpredictable—a part of him that he couldn’t fully control. They were blackouts, flashes of fury that swept over him like violent waves, leaving only destruction in their wake. But now, at Kor'ethyr Academy, he finally understood them. Those episodes, those uncontrollable bursts of wrath—they were the Force itself, wild and untamed. And now, with the guidance of the Academy, he was learning, in fits and starts, to hold that power in his grasp.
As he approached the towering Nexus Spire, a dark symbol etched into the planet’s ancient crust, Gavin’s mind turned to his journey. Only months ago, he had been feared on Nar Shaddaa, a force of brutality and ruthlessness. But here, he was nothing—one among the ranks, another shadow vying for recognition. The shift in status gnawed at him; he wasn’t accustomed to being overlooked or underestimated. On Nar Shaddaa, he had commanded respect through fear, but here on Korriban, fear had its own hierarchy, and Gavin was at the bottom.
Yet, if nothing else, Gavin was persistent. Other Initiates complained about Korriban’s demands—the endless training, the unforgiving terrain—but Gavin felt a strange satisfaction in the struggle. He had always been a survivor, used to scraping by and finding strength in scarcity. Here, in this desolate world, he found a familiar rhythm. He could thrive, even if it meant clawing his way forward step by step.
His combat training was progressing smoothly. Though his preference had always been a blaster, he had enough skill with blades to make the transition. There was something primal about the feel of a weapon in his hands, and while he coveted the day he’d earn a true lightsaber, he made do with training sabers and vibroblades. But his connection to the Force? That was another story entirely.
The Force was slippery, elusive. In moments of pure combat, when his blood surged and his heart pounded, he could feel it flowing through him like molten fire, guiding his movements, sharpening his instincts. It felt alive then, an energy he could harness in the heat of the moment to gain an edge, to strike faster, harder. But outside of battle, it was like trying to cup water in his hands—always slipping, always out of reach. Basic Force techniques, he could manage, but anything more advanced remained stubbornly beyond his control.
Today, as he reached the Spire, he resolved to change that. This spire was a conduit, a point where the dark side thrummed at its strongest, and he could feel its power radiating through the air, thick and tangible. Gavin felt a thrill run down his spine, a thrill mixed with trepidation. He knew that if he could harness that power, he could finally start to grow into the potential he sensed within himself.
He settled himself on the ground, cross-legged, closing his eyes to block out the distractions around him. His breath steadied as he focused, reaching out with his mind, trying to grasp the elusive current of the Force around him. Shadows flickered at the edge of his mind, hints of dark energy swirling just beyond his reach. He could sense them—the shadows of power, of control—but each time he tried to grab hold, they slipped away like wisps of smoke.
His frustration simmered. Again, he reached out, forcing his mind forward, trying to harness the darkness, to bend it to his will. A flicker of energy pulsed in his grasp, an inkling of power, but as he tried to close around it, it vanished, scattering like sand in the wind. His fingers dug into the dusty ground, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth.
The harder he tried, the further away it seemed. His hands trembled with the effort, his breathing grew ragged, but nothing came. His mind recoiled as he grasped at nothingness, the power eluding him with each attempt. He knew the darkness was there—he could feel its potential swirling around him, taunting him with glimpses of what he could become. But without control, it was just that—a taunt, a reminder of his limitations.
The minutes dragged on, each failed attempt fueling the fire of his frustration. His brow furrowed, his fists clenched, and he gritted his teeth, seething at his own lack of control. Was he doomed to be like this? Was he to remain weak, unable to command the power he so desperately craved? A scowl twisted his face as his rage bubbled up, but he forced himself to remain still. He could not afford to lose his composure—not here, not now.
He took a shaky breath, his mind brimming with frustration but refusing to relent. He would keep trying, even if it killed him. One day, he would master this power. One day, he would be more than an Initiate, more than just another face among the rank and file. One day, he would be someone worth fearing once more.
And on that day, the galaxy would know the name Gavin Vel.
Gavin trudged through the searing sands of Korriban, each step stirring up clouds of dust in the unforgiving desert air. The harsh sun bore down on him, but he welcomed the weight of the heat; it was the sting of a planet shaped by wrath and ambition, a fitting home for his own brewing storm. He was still only an Initiate, not yet a true Sith, but in these arid wastes, Gavin had begun to feel the faint, simmering pulse of the dark side thrumming through his veins.
For as long as he could remember, his rages had been unpredictable—a part of him that he couldn’t fully control. They were blackouts, flashes of fury that swept over him like violent waves, leaving only destruction in their wake. But now, at Kor'ethyr Academy, he finally understood them. Those episodes, those uncontrollable bursts of wrath—they were the Force itself, wild and untamed. And now, with the guidance of the Academy, he was learning, in fits and starts, to hold that power in his grasp.
As he approached the towering Nexus Spire, a dark symbol etched into the planet’s ancient crust, Gavin’s mind turned to his journey. Only months ago, he had been feared on Nar Shaddaa, a force of brutality and ruthlessness. But here, he was nothing—one among the ranks, another shadow vying for recognition. The shift in status gnawed at him; he wasn’t accustomed to being overlooked or underestimated. On Nar Shaddaa, he had commanded respect through fear, but here on Korriban, fear had its own hierarchy, and Gavin was at the bottom.
Yet, if nothing else, Gavin was persistent. Other Initiates complained about Korriban’s demands—the endless training, the unforgiving terrain—but Gavin felt a strange satisfaction in the struggle. He had always been a survivor, used to scraping by and finding strength in scarcity. Here, in this desolate world, he found a familiar rhythm. He could thrive, even if it meant clawing his way forward step by step.
His combat training was progressing smoothly. Though his preference had always been a blaster, he had enough skill with blades to make the transition. There was something primal about the feel of a weapon in his hands, and while he coveted the day he’d earn a true lightsaber, he made do with training sabers and vibroblades. But his connection to the Force? That was another story entirely.
The Force was slippery, elusive. In moments of pure combat, when his blood surged and his heart pounded, he could feel it flowing through him like molten fire, guiding his movements, sharpening his instincts. It felt alive then, an energy he could harness in the heat of the moment to gain an edge, to strike faster, harder. But outside of battle, it was like trying to cup water in his hands—always slipping, always out of reach. Basic Force techniques, he could manage, but anything more advanced remained stubbornly beyond his control.
Today, as he reached the Spire, he resolved to change that. This spire was a conduit, a point where the dark side thrummed at its strongest, and he could feel its power radiating through the air, thick and tangible. Gavin felt a thrill run down his spine, a thrill mixed with trepidation. He knew that if he could harness that power, he could finally start to grow into the potential he sensed within himself.
He settled himself on the ground, cross-legged, closing his eyes to block out the distractions around him. His breath steadied as he focused, reaching out with his mind, trying to grasp the elusive current of the Force around him. Shadows flickered at the edge of his mind, hints of dark energy swirling just beyond his reach. He could sense them—the shadows of power, of control—but each time he tried to grab hold, they slipped away like wisps of smoke.
His frustration simmered. Again, he reached out, forcing his mind forward, trying to harness the darkness, to bend it to his will. A flicker of energy pulsed in his grasp, an inkling of power, but as he tried to close around it, it vanished, scattering like sand in the wind. His fingers dug into the dusty ground, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth.
The harder he tried, the further away it seemed. His hands trembled with the effort, his breathing grew ragged, but nothing came. His mind recoiled as he grasped at nothingness, the power eluding him with each attempt. He knew the darkness was there—he could feel its potential swirling around him, taunting him with glimpses of what he could become. But without control, it was just that—a taunt, a reminder of his limitations.
The minutes dragged on, each failed attempt fueling the fire of his frustration. His brow furrowed, his fists clenched, and he gritted his teeth, seething at his own lack of control. Was he doomed to be like this? Was he to remain weak, unable to command the power he so desperately craved? A scowl twisted his face as his rage bubbled up, but he forced himself to remain still. He could not afford to lose his composure—not here, not now.
He took a shaky breath, his mind brimming with frustration but refusing to relent. He would keep trying, even if it killed him. One day, he would master this power. One day, he would be more than an Initiate, more than just another face among the rank and file. One day, he would be someone worth fearing once more.
And on that day, the galaxy would know the name Gavin Vel.
