Disclaimer: I Don't Own Star Wars.
The first prick of the needle seared his flesh, and threatened to seep deep into his bones. His arms and legs being bound by leather straps to prevent any sort of struggle, Maul could only grit his teeth and hiss to prevent from howling deep into the night.
Though the pain was great, the honor he was receiving for being allowed to don such tattoos was far greater, and he knew that he'd now be bestowed a colossal amount of respect from his fellow tribe members and Zabraks alike.
A group of adolescent Zabraks formed a circle around him as the elder tribe leader marked his skin in black-colored patterns.
A grand bonfire flamed on nearby, and the heat was so intense that it could be felt even from where Maul stood a ways off, strapped against a thick tree trunk.
As the needle continued to drag on against his skin, unique patterns were traced all across his arms and legs, as well as his torso and head.
"And he that was once weak, shall be strong," Said the elder leader, filling in the last of the black ink on Maul's face.
"May you carry with you the marks of the warriors before us, continue to exhibit your bravery and strength among our tribe, and protect us not only from the monsters we live among, but from the greater evil on this world!" And with that, the leader gestured up into the night sky with his hands, and all the male zabraks shouted into the air.
His transition from lowly scavenger to fierce warrior complete, he was now both blessed and burdened with one of the hardest tasks of all;
Protecting all of the tribe.