Kip Ridel

[Kip Ridel]

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NAME: "Ambassador" Kip Ridel

FACTION: ---

RANK: ---

SPECIES: Human

AGE: 29

SEX: Male

HEIGHT: 6'

WEIGHT: 171lbs

EYES: Blue

HAIR: Two-Toned: Greying Brown with Sandy Brown highlights in the front

SKIN: Palish white by default. Tan varies based on what planet he's been to recently.

FORCE SENSITIVE: While many have speculated that his charisma might have ties to the force, Kip has no measurable sensitivity or any shared genetic history with force-sensitive individuals.

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STRENGTHS: Kip's most notable strengths are his observational skills, resourcefulness, and ultimately his gift of gab.

Patient: Kip Ridel; Imaging of trauma to right hand
*Not Shown: Left hand

WEAKNESSES: His most obvious weakness stems from irreparable nerve damage on both hands. Cybernetic digits replaced several missing fingers on each hand, but the trauma prevents the components from fully integrating. This leaves his hands functional, but too unstable for tasks that require precision, such as operating a blaster.

Beyond Kip's nerve damage, he also has no formal combat training. His survival in dangerous situations forces him to rely on his resources and surroundings rather than direct confrontation.

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Some men are born grunts and carry themselves thusly. They walk about with dimwitted stares and carry out their labors with a blunt and heavy-hand. They move as a rancor and howl their speech like a vengeful Tusken.

Juxtaposed to this uncivilized state of being is Kip, who embodies a graceful nature reminiscent of a more civilized time. Every facet of his being, from the long wavy follicles of hair down to the perfection of his glowing smile, is imbued with a perfectly crafted confidence and purity of intention. His eyes convey a sharp intelligence, with thin arches of eyebrows so perfectly placed that they could, with a slight adjustment, change an expression of heartwarming concern to a chilling, scrutinous gaze.

Although he dresses for different occasions and for different interactions, Kip’s most featured outfit is his cinereous long coat and slate-gray short-sleeve tactical shirt. Like all things, his choice of bantha hide for his jacket, gloves, and boots was a socially tactical decision, as most of his diplomatic relations are with the underlying working classes, mercenaries, and other grunt factions that view fanciful garb superflous and gaudy.

From his natural smile and empathetic grace, Kip's charismatic aura has allowed him to make friends in high places. The crack in his social mask remains the trembling of his hands. Though he wears thick gloves to hide the minor trembles, the occasional and uncontrollable shakes have sometimes been interpreted as a sign of fear, forcing him to adjust or hide his hands. This remains a challenge when dealing with a smuggler's shrewd eye.

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Many of my informants have inquired into Kip Ridel's credentials and all have ended up with more questions than answers. Where did this man, with an irritatingly charming personality and gleaming smile, come into a network so large that all who deal with him simply call him "Ambassador"?

Inquiries into his family don't pull up anything notable. Ridel's father was an archivist and his mother was a mechanic. There was never anything noteworthy about his family's social status. The only hints as to how Ridel came into his network might be his father's traveling records. As an archivist, Ridel's father had visited various libraries across the galaxy, ensuring data consistency. Ridel's mother, meanwhile, enjoyed the chance to travel. Perhaps, through observing Ridel's father's interactions with different cultures, he learned enough about cultural norms that he was able to establish himself as noteworthy diplomat.

Ridel's education suggests his intent to follow in his father's footsteps. His focus on history and data archival is relevant, but offers little explanation about his rise to prominence.

The line of ambiguity begins at his career. Some traces show that Kip Ridel started his career as an assistant to a former senator. Others show him operating as an informant for a long line of smugglers and cartels, with some rumors hinting at ties to the Hutts.

Regardless of which story is true, Kip Ridel has somehow managed to make a name for himself as the "Ambassador", a title he wears proudly as he talks with our allies and enemies behind closed doors. Still, he's a man worth very much close at hand and nothing to us dead. Keep a close eye on him and keep him vested in our. . . interests.

- Recorded audio from [name redacted]

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R3-A2 unit

ARC-170

SHIP:
Once owned a refurbished ARC-170. However, there have not been any launch or landing requests from this vehicle for several months at any known port.

Noteworthy Equipment:
Droid: R3-A2



KILLS:N/A

BOUNTIES COLLECTED:N/A

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ROLE-PLAYS:
The Areta

 

[Kip Ridel]

Library Archives and Logs of Kip Ridel​

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The Warlord’s Fool​

Last Accessed: ABY851...​

Spoiler

Long ago, a weary warlord took in a creditless fool for his court. The warlord wanted for nothing, having conquered over a dozen systems while sitting upon unimaginable wealth. Yet the warlord lacked a fire for life...a sense of purpose.

The fool, on the other hand, had no house, no family, and no riches to claim to his name. Yet in spite of his misfortune, the fool had a zest for life. It is this fire that caused the warlord to spare the fool and take him into his court. For despite all of his wealth, the warlord could not purchase the riches of the fool.

"I rule over men," said the warlord down to the fool, as he sat loftily upon his throne. "Their women, I take as my own. Their lives, I hold as a puppeteer to strings. "

The fool echoed, "You command your men. You take their women as your own. You direct their lives to your will. " But he sighed sympathetically, "Yet you do not know your men. You are not loved by their women. And their lives, while commanded by you, will never by lived by you. "

The warlord inched forward, bearing his mighty stature against the light's flame and obscuring the fool in an ominous shadow. "You speak to me of wealth and power, yet you know it not!"

The creditless fool, undaunted by the warlord's show of might, looked up, "I know men, my lord. I have been loved by women. I have tasted the bitterness of loss and the sweetness of joy. None of these can be bought with wealth or commanded through power, but they can be earned all the same. "

The warlord surveyed the fool and knew his words to be true. He sat again, with a confident grin. "Then I will command you to show me. "

Years passed and more systems were conquered. Yet the warlord's court had started to grow concerned. Little by little, they saw their proud and mighty lord distracted from ruling. More and more, they watched their mighty leader cast aside his council in favor of the musings of a jester. They watched, and they grew discontent.

As commanded, the fool taught the king. He mocked the wealthy and showed compassion for the weak. And with each gesture, the fool keenly watched the king's council's side-glances.

It was not long before the jester turned his mockery to the warlord's court. With every counsel, the fool played on each quirk. And with every laugh, the warlord allowed a seed to grow.

It was time, the court agreed, to expose the fool. But the fool hadn't simply spent his time watching the warlord. He had studied the court. He had learned their tactics and behaviors. With a keen anticipation, he awaited the trap.

The court called the fool to warlord and presented evidence of his betrayal.

First: a blaster, taken from a soldier and found in the fool's quarters.

"What say you to the charge?" The warlord demanded.

"My lord, I have brought the owner of the weapon, who tells me he sold it to the counsilman."

The fool presented the soldier who corroborated the claim.

"Execute the councilman at once!" The warlord demanded.

The second charge was brought to the warlord. Credits and supplies missing from the warlord's banks were found in the fool's possession.

"What say you to the charge?" The warlord demanded.

"My lord, I have no need of wealth. I urge you to speak with the man in charge of the supplies," The fool pleaded.

The warlord summoned the man, who identified the councilman's silver ring as the same as the one on the hand of the thief.

"Execute the councilman at once!" The warlord demanded.

Upon the third charge, the warlord sat restlessly. "Twice my councilmen have schemed and twice has this fool proven himself. If I am not convinced, then I shall execute my entire court for conspiracy!"

With newfound hesitation, the court brought forth a woman who witnessed a person wearing the fool's clothes inciting riots against the warlord.

The king summoned the fool to come forward, asking of the woman, "Is this the man you witnessed?"

The woman looked at the fool and immediately shook her head, "No, my lord. " When she described the man, it was a clear description of one of the councilmen. The king, unquestioningly, turned to his guard. "Seize all councilmen in my court and execute them all for conspiracy!"

Amidst the chaos and bloodshed, the fool gave a nod to the woman, who slipped on a silver ring and was escorted out by the soldier whose blaster was stolen.

Upon the death of his court, the warlord appointed the fool as his sole adviser. And so the creditless fool, who had little to his name came to inherit an empire.

 

[Kip Ridel]

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