Quo-Wing-Tzun

Quo Wing-Tzun
Biographical Information
Homeworld:	Dahomir
Date of Birth:	12 ABY
Physical Description
Species:	Zabrak
Gender:	Male
Height:	1.74 M
Weight:	92kg
Hair:	None
Eyes:	Red with Gold Flakes
Cybernetics:
Personal Information
Allies:	Tasha'Vel Versea
Enemies:	None
Lightsaber Color(s):	Animus, Red Blade
Lightsaber Form(s):	Jar'Kai Niman
Fighting Style(s):	K’tara, Dulon
Chronology & Political Information
Profession:	Arcanist
Position:	None
Affiliation:	Marka Ragnos
Known masters:	Tasha’Vel Versea
Known apprentices:	None
Dossier:	11274
[ Source ]

" There are no such things as absolute horizons, merely the perceptions of the beholder "

―Quo-Wing-Tzun

Quo is a loner, he’s always been alone in the Galaxy, and he feels most comfortable when his missions do not require him to interact with others. The one glaring exception to this rule is his relationship with his Master, Tasha'Vel Versea, as he knows that her teachings will bring him the power and privilege that as a Sith he craves. With her guidance he is growing, both as a person, and as a warrior. Focussed and determined he will always try to complete his missions with the minimum of fuss, and without being overly elaborate. His interpersonal skills do however leave quite a bit to be desired, with his blunt forthrightness, and political in-correctness being abrasive to some.

History: Early life

He knew the living force flowed through him, and knew the duplicity of its nature, and revelled in the battle that was fought every day. He actively sought out the struggle, it gave him power, and the knowledge that he gleaned pushed him forwards in his quest for the ultimate power, the power to control death.

Ever since he was young he had seen people with power, politically, socially, even magically, and he craved this power for himself. He watched them, silently, from hidden vantage points, desperate to ascertain exactly how they got this gift. He felt the power around him, even as a young boy, he could sense others around him, even when they weren't within plain sight, he could even grasp, at a rudimental level how they were feeling, and sometimes, when he was at his most calm, what they were thinking, how those designs were implemented to enable them to carry out their feats, even if it was only in glimpses. He would process these, and put important bits of information away until another glimpse gave him another piece to the puzzle. Sometimes he would instinctively know how a thing was done, and spent days, months, on several occasions years, practising and perfecting the new knowledge, so that he could perform the feat at will. It was this way that he learned to conceal his true nature from others, both physically, and within the living Force, trial and error, until he simply wasn't there. Of all of the knowledge that he gained, of this he was most proud, it protected him, embracing him in it's dark shield, keeping the others out of his self constructed exile of his own bubble of sanctuary, a protection that moulded the way he would respond to people in later life.

He never knew his father, and his mother was only a vague impression, one which he could only feel when he was immersed within his connection to the force. A sense of abandonment, loss, and pain, like a broken tooth, aching constantly. He always felt alone, even when he was surrounded by a city planet full of people, never connecting to others, instead remaining separated, mentally and emotionally, he had always been that way as long as he could remember. Not that he minded, he liked the solitude, although it would cause problems later in life, not for him, for others that were around him.

History: Adolescence

Hopping from ship to ship, sometimes stowing away, sometimes working his keep as a deck hand, or assistant engineer, he made his way across the Galaxy towards the centre, towards Coruscant

Coruscant

. This was where all the spacers said that the power was, where a man could make his fortune, where all the good contracts were, so this was where he was headed. It felt right. For a full nine months he travelled in a zigzag route across the shipping lanes with each new ship before he finally arrived, a nobody, on a city planet full of somebodies, or somebody wannabes. Perfect. Here he could disappear, here he could learn, here he could prepare.

He made his occupation of this planet down in the lowest levels of the city. It was here that he met Keevo Danext, a Basilisk racketeer, who took him under his wing, after he had killed a runner. Keevo believed that he had done it by accident and Quo let him believe that. The racketeer wasn't happy, thinking that now he would never get his money, until Quo showed him the credit slip that he had taken from the body, which was Quo's original incentive. Keevo was impressed, and even let Quo keep the difference in credits, minus an administration fee. Danext found a small apartment for the young Zabrak to live in, it kept him close to him should he need him, and an unmarked, indistinct communicator, keeping Quo in his employ. Quo learned the ways of the underworld, with Keevo's tutelage, and soon amassed a tidy amount of money, not to mention a few handy pieces of weaponry and equipment along the way. His vibro blades, throwing knives, and micro blaster were all small enough to be concealed, and he was proficient enough to use them adequately. His preference was always with the blade though, quiet, less messy, and attracting a lot less interest from passers by.

By the time he left Coruscant he had a comfortable amount of money, and had learned a great many things about the nature of people, plus refined his engineering skills.

The Training Twenties

Having found himself on his own, following the voices inside his head, most notably the spirit of a Nightsister called Asa. She guided him from world to world, picking up skills and equipment that he would need for his quest, finally bringing him to the planet of Karana III, where he was told he would find a woman who would guide him in his efforts and be an anchor to his life. Though Asa's guidance to the House was correct, she proved incorrect in the location of the individual that he sought. However there were several clues there that Quo followed onwards towards Loki, in the Phare system.

Nightsister of Dathomir

Setting his ship down well away from the centrally populated areas, he followed his spirit guide as she led him towards his goal of finding the woman who would prove to be the most important, and influential in his life so far.

Making his way to the very heart of operations for House_Marka_Ragnos, he tracked, and finally found her inside the inner sanctum of citadel.
The young Twi'lek, even younger than himself, was quite a surprise to the Zabrak warrior, and he was often found arguing with Asa over whether she had made a gargantuan mistake. Asa was steadfast in her resolution that this was the person to whom she would be passing the baton of instruction. Unconvinced as he was Asa persuaded him to slice into the communications system, and leave a message on her file that would peak her interest, which of course it did.

Tasha'Vel Versea was that woman, and although neither of them particularly enjoyed the company of others, when they met there was a connection. Tasha'Vel agreed to train the young Zabrak, and over the days and months they grew into a formidable partnership. Even though the young Sith was hungry for power, and fully focussed upon his life goals, this woman knew a thing or two, and their training was invaluable to him.

During one sparring session, however, Tasha'Vel's training of the young Zabrak proved to be too good, and she allowed him into her mind, triggering a fight or flight response, which almost cost him his life, as her training came to the fore, and she unleashed her powers on him. If it wasn't for Tasha'Vel's quick thinking and actions he would be dead, as she fought to save her apprentice. Surviving the encounter Quo held no grudge against her, he merely felt it was a step along his path that had to be taken, and realising that he had a lot to learn. In some ways he felt he had let her down by not being good enough to withstand her test.

After a lot of rehabilitation, and having to permanently wear a breathing prosthetic, with a voice enhancer, Quo was once again up on his feet, eager to learn more. How far his training will lead him will have to be proved, however he is singularly determined never to let his Master down again if he can help it.

Many partnerships would have been shattered by the event, however Quo and Tasha'Vel have formed a connection that is stronger after than it was before.

Knighthood

It had only been five minutes, or so it seemed to him. that he had been enlisted into the ranks of the Inquisitorius, and already there were ructions. Every time he thought he had a grasp on the Brotherhood it sent him another curved ball. Sat at his new desk he attempted to take in all the details that the message in front of him had spelled out. A traitor within the ranks. Not only that, he had been tasked to find out the who, why, when and where. He still couldn’t quite grasp why he had been selected for this mission, or by whom as it was unsigned, but he felt that it had something to do with Tasha’Vel, his Master, and her husband, Bentre Stahoes.

Quo rose from the desk, and destroyed the glassfilm that the message had been delivered on, grinding it to dust with the heel of his prosthetic hand. It left a gouge on the polished surface, a reminder of his first day on the job. Any traitor would have to have access to the files of the Inquisitorius, and the communications system presumably, and this was where he would start. As he strode away he exuded the look of a man on their way to somewhere for a definate reason, not a man who was taking his first steps in his first investigation. No sign of hesitation was evident.

Down in the bowels of the Supreme Hall of The Inquistiorius Quo found the archives, with plenty of consoles for his investigations of the Inquisitorius’ systems. He wasn’t the greatest slicer, but he could get into the system without having to log on and leave a trace. Going into the sub-systems he was amazed at the amount of communications traffic that was there. There had to be a way to narrow the search. He accessed the logs for encrypted communications, two thousand one hundred and eighty seven. Ok, within the last month, seventeen. Scanning down the list there were only three that came from the same originator, but it couldn’t be, Tasha’Vel Versea. He wouldn’t believe that his own Master was a traitor, there had to be another answer. Selecting the the three messages from her he tried to make out who the messages were sent to, but that was encrypted as well. Searching through the message he attempted to decrypt the message, or at least the recipient.

Saving copies of the messages to his own storage device he would try to break the code on his own console back at the Halls of Residence.

Quo searched again, this time for any files that had been modified or deleted from the system, and again found three that had been recently deleted, all of them within the last eight days, and two of them connected to his own dossier. What the fleg was going on here? Why would anybody be interested in his file? He was a low ranking member of the Society, he didn’t have any access to anything important, he was a complete novice in the Inquisitorius.

Copying the files to the same storage device Quo rose and took his leave of the Archive. Heading away from the home of the secret society, he headed back to his own accomodations, needing the solitude to make an assessment of the circumstantial evidence that he had gathered. Accessing his personal console he loaded the encrypted messages. He selected a program from the drop down list, and attempted to infiltrate the encryption. He had encrypted messages from Tasha’Vel on his communications window, he could use a couple of them to give his program a grasp on her encryption methods. He inputted the messages, and set the program onto the task of cracking it.

With that in hand Quo turned his attentions to the files that had been modified. There was nothing interesting to anyone in the files, only Quo’s dossier, an assessment of his training, and the notifications of his commendations. Quo’s face was contorted in both frustration and confusion. Nothing in here had the slightest bit of import to the Brotherhood, and the files contained no secrets that anyone outside it would be vaguely interested in. What was going on here?

Quo let the computer carry out its computations, managing to grab a couple of hours sleep before he was awoken by an insistant beeping. He made his way over to his console. The program had done it’s work, to a fashion. It had managed to decrypt the addresses of the recipients, and they read like a list of the great and powerful of the Brotherhood. The Master at Arms, the Consul of Clan Naga Sadow, the Proconsul, Bentre Stahoes, Tasha’Vel’s husband, along with a few other names that were well known to all Dark Jedi. Quo couldn’t believe that all these people were traitors. Another beep from the console told him that another part of the messages had been decrypted.

Reading from the screen before him, ”...and it will take place at the Sadow Palace on Sepros, . He must be in attendance before the action can be taken....................satisfied until the task is completed”, and it was signed by his Master. It sounded like an assassination attempt, but on who?

Quo rose, his intention to go to his ship, the Eenzaam, in order to face his Master, and put an end to this one way or another. A knock at the door. Approaching and opening it he was faced by his Master. Without warning four strikes to his pressure points were all that she needed to render him temporarily immobile, a hoodwink applied to his head. So this was how it ended he thought. How far away from the truth he was, and how he had been played by those who cared for him came as a shock. He had thought that he was alone, insignificant, however the extract from Tasha’Vel’s journal, gave the full story. Quo was finally in a place to call home, with people who cared and respected him.

Journal entry - Tasha’Vel Versea 13/02 38ABY

The time had finally come and Tasha had arranged the events. Sneaking away down the many corridors and hallways, she had arrived to her apprentice's room. Knocking on the door, she waited till it opened. With the Force guiding her motions, her palms and elbows quickly struck the vital points on the figure blocking the doorway, rendering him momentarily stunned as she quickly blindfolded him, and began to guide him down the halls.

"Do not speak and just follow me," she whispered. Even though her apprentice was gifted in the Force, he stumbled behind her, unsure of himself.

As he reached out with his senses, all he heard were his master's footsteps and his own. Everything else seemed to come through a thick veil, hiding anything else from his senses. As they entered what felt like a giant hall, a voice boomed through the air.

"On your knees Sith!" The command came from a voice he couldn’t quite place. Struggling slightly, he was quickly forced to his knees by his Master as she spoke in a stern tone. "Quo-Wing-Tzun you stand before your elders. Bentre Stahoes, Marcus Kiriyu, Darkblade, and myself.”

“You have proven yourself an ally as well as a worthy adversary here in Clan Naga Sadow. For your efforts, hard work and dedication, we would like to present to you the title Dark Jedi Knight.” Igniting her lightsaber, she maneuvered the crimson blade near Quo’s left ear, and then to his right.

“Rise, my apprentice," she said as she took off the blindfold. “Rise as a Knight of Sadow.” As Quo rose up he could see Marcus, Bentre, Darkblade and Tasha standing in front of him, all wearing ceremonial robes with their faces covered. Around him the other Clansmen were gathered, who erupted in gleeful cheering."Well done, former apprentice, and welcome to the ranks of Knighthood!"

So this was the big cover up, no treachory, no secrets to damage the core of the Order, simply a ruse to get a young initiate to the Society to a place and time to celebrate his promotion to Knighthood. Quo wasn’t one for revelling, or growing attached to people, but the people gathered around him made it very hard not to. The only secrets that were of import were the ones he kept to himself as he looked around the room.

(Tasha’Vel’s journal entry kindly supplied by Tasha’Vel Versea)

Physical Description

At first glance Quo is often dismissed as just another passer by, however, should the viewer take time to assess his physique closely they would notice the litheness of his movements, with an absence of unnecessary energy. He could be described as "squat", though this would fail to take into account the natural power contained within his muscular frame, and the unnerving lack of noise as he moved from place to place.

The first thing that people notice is the breathing prosthetic covering his nose and mouth, tubing looping over his ears, leading to a control panel that Quo wears on his chest beneath his tunic. A vocal coder was also introduced to assist his speech.

Rugged, without being ugly, though not exactly handsome either, dark, almost ebony skin is highlighted with bright yellow tattoos, arranged in an organic, flowing design. His head is shaved, leaving the cranium bald, which only accentuates the line of shiny, ivory, horny outgrowths, that sit like a crown around his head. The eyes are piercing, and unwavering, once they lock onto a person they appear to capture them, unblinking, and focussed. Cutting through the centre of his face is a lean nose, with slightly narrowed nostrils, which lead down to a narrow mouth, although with full lips. A missing front tooth lends an asymmetry when Quo smiles, or more likely grimaces at the observer. The chin below is dimpled, and square in shape, although not broad, the face itself denotes the strength of character that lies beneath.

Quo's hands are long and slim, showing signs of hard work, being calloused and scarred, his right hand having been replaced with a cybernetic implant from just above the elbow joint, after a close encounter with a Charnoq on Maridun.