So. Weighed. Down. At least that’s how it always felt coming home. Phatrong, basically an Outer Rim gravity well, practically trained us to be warriors. All of us. We may not look like much on the outside, but living on a planet with such a strong pull to the ground so consistently makes getting out of bed a work out. Growing up, I never understood why some of the older ones would disappear, not to return for months on end- if at all.

It became quite clear as I grew up. Small skirmishes evolved into larger training and sparring sessions, each of us began to hone our abilities more and more. While we didn’t necessarily need to fight each other, many families made great wages as various gangs came to hire our best fighters for whatever jobs they had in mind. May not have been the most honest work, but we excelled across the board and word spread. Quickly.

In short time we were essentially a trade center for work so we would be able to acquire whatever we needed in exchange for our “talents”. My time would come. I trained. I trained harder than anyone else. I would be the best of us, no excuses. Endless nights practicing forms, countless days studying the others movements and developing my own counters. I climbed the tree quickly, challenging bigger and stronger Kyuzo every day until I was undoubtedly the most skilled fighter. I was praised, but not without the murmurs that come behind greatness.

There were always a few that were jealous of my talent, that there had to have been something else I wasn’t telling them. All I could ever say was that fighting felt effortless to me. All one flow of movements, and even a level of serenity thrown in the mix. Something I always felt at ease with. But that never interfered with my veracity. I wanted more. Being the best of my people was not good enough, I needed to expand.

The next opportunity presented itself as the transports began to flood in once more. I took the first shuttle off this world. News about a new war having broken out had slowly funneled to the further parts of our star system, stories of all these great warriors and mystical powers fighting for some kind of.....I don’t even know. New Goal. Learn from the best. Fight alongside the best. Take some droids out along the way, drop some factories. Only way to be the best is to make sure I can beat the best. Whatever the cost. There is nothing left for me on Phatrong. I can only imagine what new and, hopefully challenging, adventures await!

Ambition - Expertise - Having mastered the needed training systems on his planet and easily surpassing the abilities of his peers, Malno takes to the war to feel truly challenged as he seeks to continually hone his skills and push his boundaries in ways only force-imbued circumstances possibly could.

Strength - Pride - Malno comes from a long line of naturally athletic sentients. History of his people taking contracts as mercenaries for various jobs have bolstered his confidence in his physical prowess, only to be bolstered by his force empowerment

Weakness - Recklessness - Numerous sparing victories over years of training coupled with additional praise from his clone allies as a key asset to their battles makes him believe there may not always need to be a plan. He is the plan. Everything will work out. Excellence breeds excellence.

Standing 5'11 at 19 years old, Malno has skin that looks like Olive Green in the shade, almost a Gray-sh tinge. He was never the shortest of the Kyuzo species, but never stood out as anything special until he was introduced to combat. A quick learner endowed with the force let him excel against various sparing partners. A quiet persona ready to leap into action. He prefers his actions to speak for him, and he carries himself confidently knowing he was unmatched amongst his people.