Post by Saint Judas on Jan 5, 2019 15:37:58 GMT -7
Name: Quinnsing Ta'Hala
Age: Unknown, young-ish male
Original or Canon Character?: Original
Gender: Male
Race/Species: Bothan
Height/Weight: 6' 1" / 197lbs
Alliance: Independent, Former Sith and current Darkside user
Rank: None
Weapons And Other Items: Two fighting daggers strapped to his belt and several others hidden on his person, in his boots, along his thigh, and on his forearm.
Lightsaber Design: Two long single-blades with black handle and silver lining and carvings
Lightsaber Color: Silver and Red
Lightsaber Form: Ataru mixed with Juyo
Time Era: Current
Image:
Face-Claim:None
Description: On the tall side for his kind, Quinnsing has silvery-grey fur that darkens to dark grey with black on his ear tips, the ends of his limbs, his muzzle and the underside of his jaw, and his neck and chest along the front. Dark circles around his eyes tear into triangles down his cheeks. His eyes themselves are a bright glowing amber with flecks of gold. His mane is long and wild, in the back drawn into a pony tail with two small braids on either side, and his fur grows out slightly at the back of his jaw and subtly more along the end of his jaw to his chin. His long furred ears are pierced, his left one with a large brass ring and a silver cuff along the top, and his right with four small brass rings along the edge. Scars mark his body, the most obvious across his face where two run parallel over his eye on his left side, one that slashes across his muzzle entirely, and another down his right cheek. Several come up from the right side of his jaw, travelling down his neck and to his chest, and many more cover his chest, back, and arms, with a few running the tops of his thighs and one on his right shin. Many are just scratches, cuts, but some across his chest and back better resemble burns or scorch marks, and his fur is thin or even gone in those spots.
Clothing wise, Quinnsing wears dark clothing, dull blues and shades of grey and black mostly, much of himself usually covered. Leather gloves and boots are nice enough, the latter fingerless to not pressure his claws, and he dresses rather nicely if simple, vests and dark loose long sleeves with thick loose pants. A cloak with a hood drapes around his shoulders, and a belt with pouches and holders hangs around his waist.
Personality: Quinnsing is cynical and distrustful of others. In his own way he is more then capable of being charming, easy-going and slyly cunning and quick to get on good terms with, but it's more a face then how he truly is, and especially around other force users this attitude tends to become a lot colder. Sarcastic, sassy, and curt, he's quick to offer snippy responses, and fast to go on the defense. He's aggressive, and while he avoids trying to pick fights with others bigger then him, he's not always all that cautious about getting in others faces.
In truth though, get to know him better and one finds Quinnsing a surprisingly thoughtful folk, passionate about what he loves and what he does but blunted by life. He's disdainful of the force, especially the Jedi and Sith war, scoffing at both sides and hiding himself away to try and avoid getting dragged into it. He may follow practices far closer to the Sith, but he holds closer to their ideals then their current reality and despises most current Sith force users, using the dark side but believing himself controlled. He always feels like he has to fight others though, like he's always on the defensive and under scrutiny, and this causes him to be quick to lash out, liking his life independent and guarding jealously what he has earned and those closest to him.
History: Quinnsing figured out he was 'special' early on. Not that special was a good thing. If anything, it was bad. He liked having a normal life. He was a bit of a rascal sure, tough off the street sort of kid, from a family with too little money and too many kids and living off what he could, but it was his life. He saw too a few too many fights, stole like it was second nature, and lost several of his baby teeth years early, but he loved his siblings and family fiercely and had a reputation of his own. He was scrappy, fast, tough.
The problem is, when he accidentally used the force when he ran into some real trouble from some much older gangsters from off his home world, he opened himself up to a much bigger life. Quinnsing didn't do much really. Just shoved someone away to give himself some space. He barely even knew how he did it. He panicked. He was scared and angry. Then he was free and running, ears flat, not looking back as he parkoured away.
But Quinnsing didn't know how to hide his presence in the force. Force users were seemingly less and less common every era, and while he didn't know and didn't care which grandfather or great grandfather of his had been a Jedi, his ability made him valuable. Especially as a student. The gangsters he had 'demonstrated' his ability on just happened to know someone who knew someone too, and they made sure to cash in on the info of an untrained force sensitive.
Next thing Quinnsing knew he had Sith on his doorstep, looking for a 'willing' apprentice to take in and 'tutor' in the ways of 'properly' work the force. Of course he didn't want anything to do with any of that, the civil wars of Jedi and Sith had wrecked planets, and caused strife for eon upon eon. Not to mention, while he was really not a fan of Jedi, anyone with two brain cells knew the Sith were the... less favorable side of the two by far.
So they gave him a very simple choice. Hi family or his training. If Jedi are masters of mind control, Sith were good at the down and dirty manipulation. They didn't need to force to convince you to do what they wanted. And in the end his family really wasn't worth his rebellion. Quinnsing went with them. Training was harsh and brutal, with no mercy and no relent, but he would never deny it wasn't effective. If he had thought himself tough before, after he made his old self look like a stuffed teddy bear. He learned how to fight, how to kill. He shed blood. And in the end, it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. Maybe he was just numb. Maybe it was just the allure of power. Maybe it was just the lack of choice and the acceptance of his fate. He wasn't sure. He didn't question it.
But Quinnsing also was never a part of the Sith. Not truly. Not their scheming backstabbing vicious ways. He would be lying if he said he didn't pick up some things from them, some of their manners and attitudes, or that he gladly embraced the dark side of the force even if he was disdainful of it always having to come from anger alone. But he wasn't going to be one of them. He wasn't going to be a part of their stupid war, and he wasn't going to slaughter for them.
So when there was a lull in the fighting, Quinnsing waited for the watch of his master and peers to relax as they turned inwards to self-improvement and recruiting new people, and he got out. He doesn't ask and doesn't want to know what happened to his family, and thinks by avoiding them he might keep them safe still, but he makes sure to hide his presence in the force now, and he lives as a freelancer under his own hire, determined not to be caught up in their stupid war again.
Role Play Sample: Quinnsing flicked a coin in one gloved hand, sharp eyes watching it glimmer as it spun in the air. He snatched it out of the air, his fist closing around it, and bared his teeth, contemptuous. They were late and his patience was wearing thing. He didn't have forever to sit around waiting in this dirty city amidst the rats and the vermin that crowded this wretched alleyway, stuffing themselves on the garbage and refuse of scraps thrown out by the people who lived in this squalid and wretched place. That it had a ship dock at all was seemingly amazing, for this place seemed to lack almost anything else that would be a staple or a luxury of a modern civilized town in this space-faring age. It was like visiting the dark ages, all rusted and pitted stone and dirty cobblestones poorly lit by flickering dim street lights that seemed only to amplify the murk and shadows rather then dispel them.
The sooner he could get his business conducted and be out of this wretched place Quinnsing thought, idly glaring at one of the twin moons from under his hood, the better.
A scuff of boots on stone behind him and the click of a gun. Old fashioned? He could scoff is laughter if he wasn't so annoyed. Who used such outdated weaponry anymore anyways? These people truly must be a poor and sorry lot. In a flash he had whirled around, dropping low to the ground as a quiet shot rang out, loud between the close damp walls of the alley. He lunged forward, subtly pushing himself to cross the distance in a single bound, and with a sharp twist of a clawed hand he grabbed at a wrist and wrenched it, the gun clattering to the stone and a cry of pain leaving the figure as they faltered slightly, nearly falling to their knees. "Shouldn't have done that" He growled out, sharp teeth grinning in a cold smile. "I wouldn't try anything else if I were you. Bounty says alive, but it doesn't mention in what condition" He made sure each syllable was pronounced, a low deadly purr, almost pleasant if it weren't for the cold underlying edge of threat.
After all, it was a shitty job, and he hated every moment of it, but it paid well, and despite his misgivings of some actions, Quinnsing thought he was not above taking out a bit of his anger on some no life bandit like this. Not at all.
Age: Unknown, young-ish male
Original or Canon Character?: Original
Gender: Male
Race/Species: Bothan
Height/Weight: 6' 1" / 197lbs
Alliance: Independent, Former Sith and current Darkside user
Rank: None
Weapons And Other Items: Two fighting daggers strapped to his belt and several others hidden on his person, in his boots, along his thigh, and on his forearm.
Lightsaber Design: Two long single-blades with black handle and silver lining and carvings
Lightsaber Color: Silver and Red
Lightsaber Form: Ataru mixed with Juyo
Time Era: Current
Image:
Face-Claim:None
Description: On the tall side for his kind, Quinnsing has silvery-grey fur that darkens to dark grey with black on his ear tips, the ends of his limbs, his muzzle and the underside of his jaw, and his neck and chest along the front. Dark circles around his eyes tear into triangles down his cheeks. His eyes themselves are a bright glowing amber with flecks of gold. His mane is long and wild, in the back drawn into a pony tail with two small braids on either side, and his fur grows out slightly at the back of his jaw and subtly more along the end of his jaw to his chin. His long furred ears are pierced, his left one with a large brass ring and a silver cuff along the top, and his right with four small brass rings along the edge. Scars mark his body, the most obvious across his face where two run parallel over his eye on his left side, one that slashes across his muzzle entirely, and another down his right cheek. Several come up from the right side of his jaw, travelling down his neck and to his chest, and many more cover his chest, back, and arms, with a few running the tops of his thighs and one on his right shin. Many are just scratches, cuts, but some across his chest and back better resemble burns or scorch marks, and his fur is thin or even gone in those spots.
Clothing wise, Quinnsing wears dark clothing, dull blues and shades of grey and black mostly, much of himself usually covered. Leather gloves and boots are nice enough, the latter fingerless to not pressure his claws, and he dresses rather nicely if simple, vests and dark loose long sleeves with thick loose pants. A cloak with a hood drapes around his shoulders, and a belt with pouches and holders hangs around his waist.
Personality: Quinnsing is cynical and distrustful of others. In his own way he is more then capable of being charming, easy-going and slyly cunning and quick to get on good terms with, but it's more a face then how he truly is, and especially around other force users this attitude tends to become a lot colder. Sarcastic, sassy, and curt, he's quick to offer snippy responses, and fast to go on the defense. He's aggressive, and while he avoids trying to pick fights with others bigger then him, he's not always all that cautious about getting in others faces.
In truth though, get to know him better and one finds Quinnsing a surprisingly thoughtful folk, passionate about what he loves and what he does but blunted by life. He's disdainful of the force, especially the Jedi and Sith war, scoffing at both sides and hiding himself away to try and avoid getting dragged into it. He may follow practices far closer to the Sith, but he holds closer to their ideals then their current reality and despises most current Sith force users, using the dark side but believing himself controlled. He always feels like he has to fight others though, like he's always on the defensive and under scrutiny, and this causes him to be quick to lash out, liking his life independent and guarding jealously what he has earned and those closest to him.
History: Quinnsing figured out he was 'special' early on. Not that special was a good thing. If anything, it was bad. He liked having a normal life. He was a bit of a rascal sure, tough off the street sort of kid, from a family with too little money and too many kids and living off what he could, but it was his life. He saw too a few too many fights, stole like it was second nature, and lost several of his baby teeth years early, but he loved his siblings and family fiercely and had a reputation of his own. He was scrappy, fast, tough.
The problem is, when he accidentally used the force when he ran into some real trouble from some much older gangsters from off his home world, he opened himself up to a much bigger life. Quinnsing didn't do much really. Just shoved someone away to give himself some space. He barely even knew how he did it. He panicked. He was scared and angry. Then he was free and running, ears flat, not looking back as he parkoured away.
But Quinnsing didn't know how to hide his presence in the force. Force users were seemingly less and less common every era, and while he didn't know and didn't care which grandfather or great grandfather of his had been a Jedi, his ability made him valuable. Especially as a student. The gangsters he had 'demonstrated' his ability on just happened to know someone who knew someone too, and they made sure to cash in on the info of an untrained force sensitive.
Next thing Quinnsing knew he had Sith on his doorstep, looking for a 'willing' apprentice to take in and 'tutor' in the ways of 'properly' work the force. Of course he didn't want anything to do with any of that, the civil wars of Jedi and Sith had wrecked planets, and caused strife for eon upon eon. Not to mention, while he was really not a fan of Jedi, anyone with two brain cells knew the Sith were the... less favorable side of the two by far.
So they gave him a very simple choice. Hi family or his training. If Jedi are masters of mind control, Sith were good at the down and dirty manipulation. They didn't need to force to convince you to do what they wanted. And in the end his family really wasn't worth his rebellion. Quinnsing went with them. Training was harsh and brutal, with no mercy and no relent, but he would never deny it wasn't effective. If he had thought himself tough before, after he made his old self look like a stuffed teddy bear. He learned how to fight, how to kill. He shed blood. And in the end, it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. Maybe he was just numb. Maybe it was just the allure of power. Maybe it was just the lack of choice and the acceptance of his fate. He wasn't sure. He didn't question it.
But Quinnsing also was never a part of the Sith. Not truly. Not their scheming backstabbing vicious ways. He would be lying if he said he didn't pick up some things from them, some of their manners and attitudes, or that he gladly embraced the dark side of the force even if he was disdainful of it always having to come from anger alone. But he wasn't going to be one of them. He wasn't going to be a part of their stupid war, and he wasn't going to slaughter for them.
So when there was a lull in the fighting, Quinnsing waited for the watch of his master and peers to relax as they turned inwards to self-improvement and recruiting new people, and he got out. He doesn't ask and doesn't want to know what happened to his family, and thinks by avoiding them he might keep them safe still, but he makes sure to hide his presence in the force now, and he lives as a freelancer under his own hire, determined not to be caught up in their stupid war again.
Role Play Sample: Quinnsing flicked a coin in one gloved hand, sharp eyes watching it glimmer as it spun in the air. He snatched it out of the air, his fist closing around it, and bared his teeth, contemptuous. They were late and his patience was wearing thing. He didn't have forever to sit around waiting in this dirty city amidst the rats and the vermin that crowded this wretched alleyway, stuffing themselves on the garbage and refuse of scraps thrown out by the people who lived in this squalid and wretched place. That it had a ship dock at all was seemingly amazing, for this place seemed to lack almost anything else that would be a staple or a luxury of a modern civilized town in this space-faring age. It was like visiting the dark ages, all rusted and pitted stone and dirty cobblestones poorly lit by flickering dim street lights that seemed only to amplify the murk and shadows rather then dispel them.
The sooner he could get his business conducted and be out of this wretched place Quinnsing thought, idly glaring at one of the twin moons from under his hood, the better.
A scuff of boots on stone behind him and the click of a gun. Old fashioned? He could scoff is laughter if he wasn't so annoyed. Who used such outdated weaponry anymore anyways? These people truly must be a poor and sorry lot. In a flash he had whirled around, dropping low to the ground as a quiet shot rang out, loud between the close damp walls of the alley. He lunged forward, subtly pushing himself to cross the distance in a single bound, and with a sharp twist of a clawed hand he grabbed at a wrist and wrenched it, the gun clattering to the stone and a cry of pain leaving the figure as they faltered slightly, nearly falling to their knees. "Shouldn't have done that" He growled out, sharp teeth grinning in a cold smile. "I wouldn't try anything else if I were you. Bounty says alive, but it doesn't mention in what condition" He made sure each syllable was pronounced, a low deadly purr, almost pleasant if it weren't for the cold underlying edge of threat.
After all, it was a shitty job, and he hated every moment of it, but it paid well, and despite his misgivings of some actions, Quinnsing thought he was not above taking out a bit of his anger on some no life bandit like this. Not at all.