Zahori Denko
In the Sith-Imperial justice system, one's guilt is determined by the men and women of the Ministry of Laws and Justice. Those unfortunate enough to be found guilty face the harshest punishments possible in the name of the Grand Adjudicator. Some face work camps, others indefinite imprisonment. Then, there are those who have openly defied the Sith Empire directly who face a much more heinous punishment.
These are their stories...
A scarcely lit hallway. Two armed guards at the flanks of a man in a dingy white jumpsuit. Hs wrists restrained in front of him and a heavy collar on his neck. They walked and walked down the hallway. The sounds of their footsteps echoing throughout the eerie corridor. The man walked with his head down. He looked ghostly as his cheeks were sunken, bags resting beneath his eyes. He did not even recognize himself in the mirror. The Ministry had broken the man he once was. He remembered the times he led the people in open rebellion against the Empire. So many cheering his name. Finally, someone who had a real purpose. A cause for people to follow. Someone they believed in.
That was until he caught the eye of the Ministry of Laws and Justice.
His hubris was beginning to get to him. When you become a household name as Joratt Becker had become, people will know who you are. Once they know who you are, they will find out where you are. Once they know where you are, if you aren't careful enough, they will find you. Sometimes they are the ones you want to find you. Those who have the same ideals as you. But, sometimes, there are those who would rather see you ripped from your perch. People may love a hero, but they love to see a hero fall even more. By any means necessary. One of those people gave an especially informational tip to the Ministry's Security Force. The rest is history.
The three reached the end of the hall. A door stood before them. One of the guards stepped forward and pressed a keycard against a panel beside the door. A thin bar scanned the keycard before sounding a low beep. The door opened with a sharp hiss of the hydraulics. A bright light shined across the massive room before Joratt. A guard pushed him in, revealing himself to those that were awaiting inside. It was a courtroom, statuesque in scale. Joratt was lead to the center of the room where the judged stood awaiting the verdict in the trials that had come before his. At his rear where hundreds of citizens of the Sith Empire who had gathered to see the hammer of justice brought down upon the one who had been publicly branded a terrorist by the Sith Empire. He faced a massive throne raised several feet in the air by a stone pillar. A feeling of dread overcame him as his eyes laid upon the seat from which the Grand Adjudicator shall judge him.
Without even looking behind him, Joratt could feel the glares of the Imperials behind him. He cared not for their judgement. He was proud of what he had done to get himself to this point. He took a stand for himself and those under the oppression of the Sith Empire. There was still an ounce of defiance within this broken man. Deep within him.
Doors hidden from view of those within the courtroom could be heard as they were slammed open. The sounds of several footsteps could be heard ascending a flight of stairs until their source could be seen. The Grand Adjudicator Darth Athora, flanked by two Imbams, had entered the room and took her place standing before her chair. She looked down upon the accused without a hint of emotion on her face. Joratt slowly raised his gaze from the floor and up to Darth Athora. Her eyes were cold despite their fiery color. He knew his life was over before the trial could even commence.
Only time would tell. The trial had begun.