ʀᴇᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ᴊᴜᴅɪᴄɪᴀʟ ꜱᴇʀᴠɪᴄᴇꜱ
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Quade Kerric cuts an unremarkable silhouette by design. Medium build, long-limbed rather than broad, with the posture of someone accustomed to standing for hours and thinking while doing so. His features are human-passing, the only giveaway to his Kiffar heritage being faint, irregular facial markings that surface along his temples and cheekbones when he is stressed, fatigued, or emotionally stirred. He keeps his dark hair short and practical, often a little uneven, as if cut by his own hand. His eyes are alert but tired, frequently scanning rooms before conversations. Clothing is conservative and functional: tailored jackets, muted tones, sturdy boots. Nothing flashy. Nothing accidental.
INVENTORY
- Compact datapad with layered security encryption
- Civilian-grade blaster pistol, licensed and rarely drawn
- Plain durasteel badge identifying him as a detective
- Credstick with modest but steady funds
- Personal notebook, handwritten, never digitised
PERSONALITY AND BELIEFS
Quade is methodical, restrained, and observant to a fault. He believes truth is rarely loud and never simple, and that most people lie first to themselves before lying to others. He has little patience for theatrics and a quiet distrust of institutions that present themselves as infallible, though he still believes in systems, laws, and accountability. Emotionally, he keeps his distance, not out of coldness, but caution. He understands how easily empathy can blur judgment, and how costly that blur can become. Despite this, he possesses a stubborn moral core and an aversion to injustice that borders on compulsion.
STRENGTHS
- Highly analytical thinker with strong investigative instincts
- Exceptional attention to detail and pattern recognition
- Calm under pressure, rarely acts impulsively
WEAKNESSES
- Emotionally guarded, struggles with intimacy and trust
- Tends to internalize guilt and responsibility
- Reluctant to delegate, often carrying burdens alone
HISTORY
Quade Kerric was born on a minor Kiffar colony world far from the galactic core, raised in a culture that prized memory, lineage, and the quiet authority of the past. Unlike some of his people, he exhibited no Force sensitivity and no psychometric gift. Where others could touch an object and feel what had been, Quade learned instead to read people, patterns, and omissions. Absence became his data. Silence his archive.
He left his homeworld young and gravitated toward investigative work, eventually earning a position with the Coruscant Security Force as a homicide detective. Coruscant sharpened him. The work was relentless, precise, and unforgiving, and Quade proved well-suited to it. He developed a reputation for meticulous case construction, controlled demeanor, and a refusal to pursue conclusions he could not substantiate. He believed deeply in due process, not as an ideal, but as a necessary restraint on power.
It was through the courts that he met Gwyvale Ort, a defence attorney whose reputation for dismantling flawed prosecutions matched his own for building careful ones. Their early relationship was professional and adversarial, marked by sharp exchanges and mutual respect. Quade believed the accused deserved the strongest defense possible. Gwyvale embodied that belief. What he struggled with was watching his own work become the terrain on which her skill was demonstrated.
Despite their intentions not to, affection followed admiration. Marriage followed affection. What followed marriage was strain.
Their careers placed them on opposite sides of the same system, and over time the boundary between professional disagreement and personal tension eroded. Quade found himself resenting the way Gwyvale pulled apart his cases, even as he acknowledged her right to do so. Gwyvale carried the burden of defending clients she did not always trust against evidence assembled by the man she loved. Neither was wrong. Neither was willing to step away.
Then was revealed the slow collapse of his marriage. In a rare moment of shared honesty, Quade and Gwyvale admitted what they both feared: something had to change, or everything would end. What they could not bring themselves to admit was that the change required might be their careers. Instead, they chose locale. They told themselves Coruscant was the problem.
Two years ago, they relocated to Naboo. For a time, it worked. Eighteen months of relative calm followed, enough to convince them they had made the right decision. But habits return more easily than peace. Quade continued now in a position as a homicide detective with the Republic Judiciary Service. Gwyvale had joined the same service as a defence attorney. Different world. The same problem.
As the pressure mounted, Quade became the subject of a professional inquiry initiated within Internal Affairs. The allegation, broadly framed and narrowly evidenced, concerned procedural irregularities and potential misconduct in several closed cases. The matter was never substantiated, nor formally resolved. No charges were brought. No formal exoneration followed. The investigation stalled, leaving behind only implication and record.
In accordance with Republic Judiciary oversight protocols, a Jedi was assigned to work alongside Quade. Officially, the arrangement was framed as support and assurance. In practice, the Jedi's presence served a dual function: assisting in active investigations while quietly evaluating Quade himself. The distinction between partner and monitor was never clarified, and Quade did not ask for it to be.
Now, they find themselves once again navigating familiar tensions under quieter skies. Quade begins his work with the Jedi still assigned to him, his cases examined from two directions at once. Whether Naboo will offer resolution, or merely a more elegant setting for impending disaster, remains uncertain.