Some men are born to lead. Others are born to watch the wolves at the edge of the campfire and mutter warnings no one wants to hear until it’s too late. Don Rearic is the latter. He didn’t build a brand or chase notoriety. He built a body of work. Quietly, forcefully, and honestly, that still speaks to those of us who care about real personal protection, not just the cosplay.

He didn’t teach you how to be a warrior. He asked if you were willing to think honestly about violence, carry tools that worked, and prepare for the aftermath that follows even a “successful” fight.

Rearic was never selling a system. He was writing to cut through the fantasy. The flow drills, the chi balls, and the Hollywood tactics that never survive contact with a bad man in a dark place.

What he gave us was unpolished truth:

Reviews of knives that could be used under adrenaline.

Tactical flashlight principles before they were seminar material.

Warnings about post-incident trauma that most “tactical instructors” still won’t touch.

Rearic approached violence the way a surgeon approaches a wound: with precision, gravity, and total honesty. He wanted you to carry tools that worked, train with intent, and never forget what violence costs, even when you win.

At a certain point, Don began quietly recognizing people. Fighters, instructors, researchers, rogues, all of us. Part of what he called his “Rabbits.”

We weren’t students. We weren’t applicants. We were observed. Quietly. For a long time. And when he decided you belonged to the Warren, he let you know.

We were rabbits not because we were timid but because we operated underground. We burrowed through the noise. We survived on the fringe. We adapted. We escaped. We bit when cornered.

Being named a Rabbit wasn’t about being the best fighter. It was about being the most honest one in the room.

You did the work.

You trained for reality.

You weren’t waiting for applause. You were building something that might keep someone alive.

I was truly honored to be named one. So were Syriennion and Chainlink. There are others. Not too many though. That’s the point.

Don never formalized anything. No acronyms. No levels. No seminars with matching polos. What he gave was:

The language to talk about tools.

The mindset to train with clarity.

The permission to reject fantasy.

He advocated for practical weapons:

Push daggers

Utility blades

Flashlights as force multipliers

Hidden tools with real-world use, not mall-ninja flair

He focused not just on what to carry but on why and what comes next if you have to use it.

Today, his website is all but gone. Picked clean by charlatans. His name doesn’t circulate on Instagram reels. But his fingerprints are still everywhere.

At Shanktelli, his thinking informs nearly everything we do:

Artifice – the ability to deceive

Vehemence – the ability to erupt

Authenticity – the ability to know who you are when things go sideways

We don’t call him a founder. He wouldn’t want that. But make no mistake, he essentially built the foundation and we will never deny that.

Don hasn’t disappeared. He’s just quiet now. And maybe that’s the most Rearic thing there is.

While the industry chases clout and clean logos, Don Rearic watches for the ones who are doing the work. No posturing. No personas. Just dangerous, thoughtful people building real skills and passing it on with zero flash.

That’s what it means to be one of Rearic’s Rabbits.
Not a student. Not a follower. Just a dangerous person with a conscience, doing their part in the dark.