The Trial of Darth Maladon [The Sith Order]

[Velok the Younger]

EOL SHA

In his day, Velok had rarely seen grimmer courtrooms. A slab of bleak stone overlooked a flow of magma. Black cliffs jutted up all around. Coming down here required navigation of narrow, switchbacked footpaths. There were no chairs, just unremitting rock. The closest thing to furniture was the stake, wedged in a crevice at the edge, two steps from a long fall into molten stone. Darth Maladon stood straight and tall, bound to the stake at numerous points. His ornate mask and armor had been stripped away; they and his Sith sword lay in a pile some distance away. His aristocratic face was pale, defiant. Lightsabre-resistant fireworms writhed in the magma, scales glinting, compelled by Sith arts.

Maladon was one of the many Sith Lords to come out of the wreckage of the One Sith. He stood accused, with almost unimpeachable evidence, of conspiring with his rogue Jedi lover. There was every chance he'd revealed things about the Sith that the Jedi could not be allowed to know. But opinions differed as to which of his reputed crimes was most severe. Treason. Heresy. Incompetence. There had been other elements as well. Feelings ran hot.

Then again, maybe he was innocent.

Then again, maybe at this stage it no longer mattered.

Sweating furiously beneath his fur, Velok came to stand beside the bound Maladon. He clapped a three-clawed hand on the Sith Lord's shoulder, and looked out over the assembled Lords, Knights, and Acolytes.

"You all know of the charges against Lord Maladon. Speak what you will."

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Among the assembled visages stood a man. Not tall, though neither could he be said to be short. His clothing, layers of crimson, seemed ill-conducive to the heat. A bone white mask obscured the upper-half of his face. The lower glistened with a sheen of sweat.

Few would recognize the lesser known bastard of Kaine, yet another one of that hated breed. Cursed from birth with the surname Zambrano, the mere utterance of which would cause looks of barely veiled horror and disgust in polite society.

Sins of the father.

Behind the mask two eyes of tortured gold watched the proceedings with a cruel mixture of passion; ingredients too varied to be discerned.

 

[Reverance]

One Sith. A phrase that was slowly becoming the easiest key word to lure out the Sith Lord. The living armor roiled beneath the cloak as he crossed his arms. He looked vacantly towards the accused, recalling a judgment he once passed in the Manarai Mountains. Then, the charges didn't matter. Now, the charges still don't matter. The judiciary system of any coalition of Sith would always be the same. Ten out of ten times, the accused would be judged guilty.

It was just the way of things.

He found a certain appeasement in that notion, a predilection towards complacency for the time being. There was always time to maim and murder as he saw fit. But to watch the elegance of an execution, or even partake, was something else entirely.

His signature remained masked through the filter of the Force Disperser, nestled at the small of his back. It had become a thing of habit to hide his presence when not stepping heavily upon burning world. And for fellow Sith, if he could consider them peers, it was all the more important. His history was a sordid one.

The crimson gaze pierced out from the veil of his hood as he focused intently on Maladon. If looks could kill, this tribunal might already be over.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

Artist​

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Sector: Corva Sector​

System: Eol Sha System​

Location: Eol Sha's Surface, Clandestine​

​

Time, like all things, had finally caught up with one of their own. When it came to the collective of Sith, leaking information of their fragile order meant treachery, something that had to be dealt with and swiftly. Unfortunately, for many that stood in Maladon's position there was little to say that could get the accused out of a miserable death. Regardless, the trail had to commence.

The hissing steam from the small craters in the ashy ground lifted to the air as Kevros made his way towards the spires. They were jagged and splintering upward from the constant earthquakes that took place on Eol sha's surface. Walking carefully around the obsidian columns he could feel the unbearable heat lashing out, almost gripping at his lengthy robes to catch fire. Luckily, the hard layered rock beneath him kept the bubbling lava between the tiny crevices contained. The small pops of the active flow made him curse his attendance, there were things other than dealing with a traitor that had to be dealt with. After all, alchemic practices weren't going to contort and twist the living into his own visions by themselves.

His appearance probably didn't matter to the others, but even an acolyte such as he, had a voice here. He hadn't been around the Order long enough to recognize most. Most waited patiently along the narrow path towards the cliff, staring into the eyes of the accused. It was tense, the mere thought of those who felt the most betrayed could have meant more problems. If the Order hadn't instilled values, Darth Maladon wouldn't be breathing. Then it struck him. He hadn't taken a moment to consider how he felt about the charges. He stepped to the side of the narrow passage and turned slightly toward the stripped warrior. One thought reached him, a thought so unlikely, he grinned in disgust. His golden Kovani mask hiding his expression.

Maybe he's innocent...

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

To see the Sith convene in such a manner for the purposes of judging one of their own was amusing, in some regards: the idea that any of them were innocent was hilarious to say the least. We have all failed the Sith in one way or another: through brutality, through inaction, through acting when we should have refrained, through fighting one-another when the greater war is yet to be won... There were so many things they had all done that had served to harm their cause. The being now tied to a post in the centre of the room was hardly the only one that might have been brought forth for judgment.

Truth be told, could it not have been any one of us?

There it was, however: the justice of an imperfect world. Sometimes the Galaxy needs monsters to see it through the darkness of the night. So it was with the Sith: dangerous, whimsical, ruthless beings, those who found joy in violence and who revelled in the darkness that dwelled within the heart of all life, recognising the grim face of reality and refusing to cower from it. We are all the justice that can exist in such a world: the sharp end of the sword.

As Velok had been thinking, though unknown to the others, it no longer mattered if Maladon was innocent or guilty - and the latter was most likely. We do not come to mete out justice, but to set an example, herald an amnesty into place with a single life. Tirdarius had thought that obvious the moment the summons had been sent forth: all of them had some stake in what had happened with the Empire and the dissolution of the One Sith, setting their brethren adrift on dark seas with no clear coherence for the future. Maladon was here to die, that the Sith might draw a line beneath that failure, and set a new course for them all.

Or perhaps we come as Maladon has come: to witness our end, and to finally die.

The trial was a joke, the proceedings unnecessary: the Sith would not have gathered now if the result was in doubt. The various factions would have been conspiring against each other, perhaps even the rare supporters of the condemned would have plotted escape and retribution. If we have all come to this place, it is to witness theatre, not to discuss the matter. Treason and heresy were interesting charges: the accusation alone was sufficient to warrant death, and mere suspicion reflecting on Maladon had sealed his fate. None would wish to be associated with this.

And so, have we simply come to watch another die painfully? No, that was doubtful, too. There were many sadists among the ranks - too many, for Tirdarius' tastes - but the majority would be here to see what happened next. With the One Sith gone at last, Maladon's release from life signalling our release from the taint of it, perhaps we might move forward. There would be violence beyond what would be done here to the traitor: that much was never in doubt when Sith gathered. But we may yet walk away with a promise of a future that may not simply see us fall in ignimony.

That fate, he was certain, was reserved only for Maladon. The rest would come when that end had been met.

 

[Darth Imperia]

From the perspective of the vast majority of sentients in the Galaxy, Darth Vitium's Apprentice had few redeeming qualities. She turned her considerable intellect towards manipulation and the infliction of cruelty. Her skills in the realm of the physical were geared, as well, towards the combative and violent. Save a select few people, she viewed the galactic population as mere pets at best and obstacles at worst. In short, she saw the Darkness that permeated the Galaxy, and embraced it like a child would its mother.

But the Apprentice possessed two traits that very few could view as anything save positive.

She was devoted - it was true, she was devoted to an ideology that advocated Social Darwinism and was, at best, blase about things such as 'compassion' and 'empathy.' But she was devoted nonetheless, and it was for this reason that she looked upon the disgraced Darth Maladon with utter disgust. To betray the Sith, the organization she held so dear, warranted nothing less than the cruelest of deaths.

But she was also a seeker of knowledge, and, more importantly, of truth. The evidence of Maladon's betrayal was overwhelming, true, but it wasn't infallible. And so for this reason, instead of screaming for blood as she was sure many others were bound to do, the young, grey skinned and yellow eyed woman simply waited.

We shall see, Brolin. Perhaps our fellows are not so impulsive as I imagine them to be.

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya had no love for the One Sith. In fact, she had celebrated their demise and the scattering of the fools who had been a part of it, so the idea that this Sith Lord had assisted in its fall pleased her immensely. That did not mean, however, that she would step in to provide evidence in his defence. Oh no, this was a different game. This was not about the One SIth, nor the Empire nor any of what lay behind them. This was about setting an example, about moving forward and doing so in a manner that made perfectly clear that failure, treason and weakness were not options. Not for any Lord, nor any acolyte. It was essential, that Maladon perished, even if she did silently congratulate him.

She rose from the rock she was perched on and slid smoothly towards the accused a sadistic smile on her face as she regarded him from a moment before turning to address those gathered, keeping Maladon in her peripherals. "Evidence against the accused:" she opened her palm, producing a holoprojector, its projected images rose above her, flicking through a series of holoimages of the accused and his lover. "These images were taken several; months before the fall of the One Sith, all of them taking place outside of their territory."

The series of images stopped, settling instead on the face of a dark haired zeltron. "His lover, Selena Pak, was a member of the Jedi Council. Unfortunately, I was unable to obtain her for questioning. She perished at Atrisia." The wave of pain that rolled off Maladon was like cotton candy to the twi'lek. She deactivated the holoprojector. "I judge him guilty of treason and sheer stupidity. for which he should suffer the highest punishment."

Her piece said, she returned to her perch, winking at [member="Tirdarius"] as she passed him.

 

[Seris Caine]

Curious it was that 9ne who could be accused of nearly the same might come to be at the trial of this particular Lord. Leos had, for a time, vested his interest in a certain Jedi because he'd valued her opinion. While he still regarded her fondly, his feelings for her had dissipated. Now he thought of her as not more than a compatriot in a scheme to rid the galaxy of unnecessary folly. For this he could be judged just as guilty as the man before them.

The difference was that Leos did not meet with her on world's with such publicity possible. No, he was smarter than that. Besides, he needed the Sith to do some of the dirty work for him. They were quite well organized now and efficient. If they could take care of some of the Reformation problems in advance then it would be highly beneficial. No need to spoil that.

"Before I submit my thoughts I'd like to ask him why he sought to fall for her. I'd like to hear his thoughts on the nature of what he's done, and hear him speak on the count of treason. What say you, Lord Maladon?"

Most were quick to assume things. It was their downfall in the grand scheme of the galaxy. Leos liked to learn before making judgments and assumptions. He was patient where many were hasty. This trait had kept him alive where others fell in their haste. So it would likely come as no surprise to those gathered that he wanted to hear the Lord speak before saying how he felt on the subject.

It was only proper.

[member="Anaya Fen"], [member="Mala Arar"], [member="Tirdarius"], [member="Kevros Kovani"], [member="Reverance"], [member="Arkaitz Zambrano"], [member="Velok the Younger"]

 

[TB-705]

In addition to all these there stood a Cathar of large stature, with umber fur and braided mane. Many an errant scar criss-crossed his muzzle, of all shapes and causes. They bespoke either a lucky fool or a survivor, depending on the judge. He, Thengil, waited with the other acolytes to bear witness to the events.

Whatever power this leonine figure once had was now lost. But for a few divergences of fact it could very well be his own body shackled to yonder stakes. Mistakes of a youth of but five and twenty, too soon brought to power.

Such might would be recovered again in due time, strength begetting strength. Mistakes made would be corrected, to ensure he never kneeled where Maladon now kneeled. Humbled. Humiliated. Ready for death. In the meanwhile...

Thengil's brows knit together and a whoosh of air left his nostrils in a snort of indeterminate emotion.

Maladon's answer to the Mirialan's query could be as simple as the longing for a woman of surpassing figure.

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Arkaitz Zambrano"] [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] [member="Darth Ignus"] [member="Anaya Fen"] [member="Mala Arar"] [member="Tirdarius"] [member="Kevros Kovani"] [member="Reverance"]

She rose from the rock she was perched on and slid smoothly towards the accused a sadistic smile on her face as she regarded him from a moment before turning to address those gathered, keeping Maladon in her peripherals. "Evidence against the accused:" she opened her palm, producing a holoprojector, its projected images rose above her, flicking through a series of holoimages of the accused and his lover. "These images were taken several; months before the fall of the One Sith, all of them taking place outside of their territory." The series of images stopped, settling instead on the face of a dark haired zeltron. "His lover, Selena Pak, was a member of the Jedi Council. Unfortunately, I was unable to obtain her for questioning. She perished at Atrisia." The wave of pain that rolled off Maladon was like cotton candy to the twi'lek. She deactivated the holoprojector. "I judge him guilty of treason and sheer stupidity. for which he should suffer the highest punishment."

"Before I submit my thoughts I'd like to ask him why he sought to fall for her. I'd like to hear his thoughts on the nature of what he's done, and hear him speak on the count of treason. What say you, Lord Maladon?"

At Ignus' question, the pale Sith Lord stirred, pushing against his bonds. "Faithless backstabbing dickless-"

Velok swatted him, just snapped his two massive knuckles into the side of Maladon's head. "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Now. Do you want to try again?"

"Since when is it a crime to seduce a Jedi, milk her for information?"

"I don't especially care how or why you milked her, human. Disgusting turn of phrase." Velok whuffled. "All this information you gleaned -- and we recovered your files, by the way -- how have you used it? Not at all. How has it benefited the Sith? It hasn't. Now, I'm not above keeping certain facts and assets in reserve, but I do so because I'm waiting for the right time. Whereas surveillance seems to indicate you were unwilling to use this information because you didn't wish to jeopardize your relationship with Master Pak. Is that accurate? In fact, if those images were accurate, I rather suspect it was she who seduced you, wasn't it."

The part of him that had a taste for justice found the whole thing tawdry -- he wasn't exactly being fair to Maladon -- but worse still was what Maladon had manifestly or probably done. In which case, screw him.

"For example," said Velok, fishing in one of his belt pouches, "among those files we found the location of a certain Jedi temple that has, thus far, gone undisturbed. A temple where Master Pak instructed, I believe, until her tragic death. It's in neutral space, not covered by the aegis of the Alliance or the Silver Order."

"I have nothing further to say," Maladon hissed.

"Did you have a Force-bond with her? Would she have taken your potential death as a warning? Batten down the hatches, dig the trenches, arm the children? I think perhaps she would. Alas."

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Velok the Younger"] | [member="Arkaitz Zambrano"] | [member="Reverance"] | [member="Kevros Kovani"] | [member="Mala Arar"] | [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Darth Ignus"] |​

Maladon wasn't wrong in that respect: Tirdarius himself had never seen it as inappropriate to seduce a Jedi - what better way to lead them down the right path than by opening their eyes to their own passions, unlock the emotions they so carefully shied away from? Velok had the right of it, though: in truth, it was Maladon who had allowed himself to be seduced. Given time, would you have turned against us in full, tried to escape from the darkness and allow the light into your heart? The Sith Lord shook his head: such was folly. He knew the truth of that: every Sith in this place did. You did not walk away from the Dark. Ever.

The pain that emanated from the man was almost distasteful: understandable, but displeasing nonetheless. It was very appropriate to acknowledge it, but it showed the lie of his words. The seductor was in truth the seductee. [member="Anaya Fen"]'s words had cut him, as she had no doubt intended, but they would not have done so had this been a detached act intended to benefit the Sith. No, he loved her, and her death hurts him. That was the true treachery here: he had turned his back on his own kind by giving himself to her, and Anaya had cut the heart out of him. We have but a shell left to us.

Had not the Sith taught him to be mindful of his affairs? Tsk tsk.

Perhaps the disgraced Sith had little more to say, but he would speak nonetheless. Velok will see to that much. There was little left to do with the fool other than to end him and make a show of it: Maladon was but an example to all Sith of the danger in placing their own desires above the survival of the Sith. We are pragmatists, are we not? Survival is ever our priority. Maladon's actions had compromised that, to an extent, but no doubt he would never confess to such. Not now.

"It is rather beneath you to admit your guilt, isn't it?", Tirdarius asked, a soft little laugh escaping him as he walked a little closer to where Maladon was restrained. He couldn't entirely blame the fallen Sith: he had to know that his fate was sealed. Had there been question of it being otherwise, they would not have been enjoying this little piece of theatre: this was there purely to humiliate, to offer an example, to place beyond doubt the danger of such heresy. "Not to worry. We're not really interested in you, Maladon," he offered scornfully, enjoying the scathing way the name rolled off his tongue. "You're simply a symptom of a broader problem: you put yourself above your allegiance. You'll die for it, of course, but that's of little consequence."

There was no other path for them to take, naturally: their own actions were as locked in as Maladon's fate was. We can hardly let one commit such an action and allow it to stand without retribution. Truth be told, Tirdarius cared little for the fool's life or death: if one of the others simply released him and told him to go, he knew he wouldn't lift a finger to reverse such a decision. It is of no consequence: your only role here is as an example, a warning.

But once his life bled out upon the black ground at their feet, the inevitable problem would remain: the Sith had fallen. Maladon's actions were merely proof of the pudding. They had scattered, most into hiding, to try and carve out little domains for themselves, to consolidate their individual power bases, that they might nibble at the edges of the greater powers that had arisen in the wake of the Sith decline. And so is that all that we are? A nuisance, to sting and bother a larger predator? That could not be their legacy: perhaps that of the One Sith, but the death of that obscenity would come with Maladon's.

"The question, as ever, is simply what we will learn from your fate," the Sith Lord continued calmly, grey eyes observing the condemned with dispassionate eyes. "Will others take from your example, seek to go their own way and betray us all to their indulgences?" Tirdarius' expression darkened in cold anger, the thought assailing him with emotions thus far unsummoned. "An obscenity. Let any that consider it reflect on what happens to you and know that their fate will be similar."

 

[H3xle]

Waide stood quietly in back, watching the proceedings from within his mask. The hooded cowl of his robe was down, and his hands were clasped behind his back, his stance relaxed. Beside him was the massive girth of his Master, Darth Mastodon. The armored form of the Cragmoloid only held movement during the breaths he took. Deep in, the massive chest expanded. Deep out, the massive chest deflated, but remained massive. Like his acolyte, Mastodon had his hands clasped behind his back, the sound of knuckles cracking slowly echoing off the wall behind them. The time between each crack was measured in minutes, often long enough for people to think it was done.

Waide let his gaze sweep over the assembled Sith, searching for his former Master, Acanthus. He knew she wouldn't be there, with the fall of the One Sith, she had become a shell of herself. Waide would have ended her if he had had the power. Instead he left, and found the Order and Darth Mastodon to further his education.

His eyes went to his master for a moment, the tusks were carved with Sith runes. The insides of the carvings were a pale brown, it had been a while since it had been touched up with blood, which likely meant they would go on the attack soon. Darth Mastodon enjoyed whetting his tusks in battle when possible.

Through all of his thoughts, Waide listened to the other Sith Lords try Lord Maladon. Waide couldn't truly believe it, being seduced by a Jedi. To his extremely limited experience, Jedi were emotionless to a fault. To be taken in by such would normally prove a weak will, but no one became a Lord of the Sith by being weak.

Silently, Waide continued to watch and wait for the sentence to be formally invoked and carried out.

 

[Tarok]

Tarok had been sitting in on this judgement for awhile now with his fellow sith his life support suit making some noise the black of the suit had a nice shine to it.The man in question had followed his passion and seemingly betrayed the sith, how tarok hadn't a clue. what made the man guilty all he was done was love someone while tarok had never fallen in love he did see a problem with it. The sith were acting like defensive Jedi though did the sith code not tell them to follow their passions to have the freedom to chose. The fear of the others was evident, fear of what could happen to them if maladon revealed them. while maladons defence against the claims of betrayal were weak it didn't matter everyone here wanted blood and unfortunately for maladon he was unlikely to walk away from this.

He knew his next action would be unwise but he still stood up anyway. He spoke up a mix of robotic and human seeping into his voice " Why is maladon guilty? We sith were made to follow our passions were we not, you all stand over him tell him he should have restrained himself like a Jedi but we are not jedi. The other crime is putting himself above the sith's goals but tell me, who here has not done that we all crave power but the sith don't give you power you must take action to gain it yourself. While I know his fate is sealed, who will be next on grounds of not following your values of your brotherhood?

Tarok stood there tense, he didn't want a fight he wanted answers but the way this judgement felt too was one sided the sith here just need to make a example of someone. Tarok needed real evidence not hearsay about maladons betrayal. The sith here were acting like Jedi who didn't get told about supper but tarok wanted to understand their reasoning.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Trials... They were needed but often turned into a farce by the fact the outcome could be known before evidence presented. That drug on his patience, and irritated him. Why bother with the mummers show if the end was already known? All it did was waste efforts expended, and distract from the true matters at hand. Regardless, the buzz-haired Acolyte watched, standing at the back as befit his station. He knew what he was in comparison to some of these great Lords and Ladies. But that would not always be so. However, for now, he played the game and kept himself humble and eyes downcast.

Dressed almost crudely, his leather armor creaked as he adjusted his stance. Two curved short-swords rested at either hip, thrust through a broad belt of beaten bronzium. Leather manica covering his off arm on the left, and a hefty bracer again of bronzium on the right. His shins covered in thick padded leather and bronzium banding. Wherever he was from, it was not a particularly high-technology world, or he eschewed such in favor of his ensemble. Both hands rested on the carved wooden and durasteel capped globe pommels of his sica, and his eyes took in the trial as those greater than him spoke and questioned or passed judgement. Personally, he didn't see harm in bedding whoever one wanted. BUT.... When one bedded a Jedi and betrayed brothers, one could complain not at swift justice.

Still, he had came less for the trial. After the slaying of his lord, Alaric needed a new master. And where better than a gathering of great ones to find such? So he spent his time studying each as they spoke, weighing, thinking. What could he offer them, and them him? Some he passed over, and others he lingered on with. There were qualities to judge, of his and theirs. Being a Sith was about, as his Lord had explained it, personal power and freedom. A Lord was a large step to attaining that. And besides of point, he would make a poor apprentice to some Mystic or Diviner.

 

[Seris Caine]

Leos only lofted a brow at the outburst.

"One would think Sith Lords facing their demise would have better manners and better cognitive function, Lord Maladon."

It wasn't a matter of wanting to be respected. Leos knew that among Sith you didn't ask for respect, you earned it. While his personal views were in severe contradiction to the views of the Order as a whole, he still commanded himself as a Sith and, for the present, honored his duties as one. He was not about to brand himself a traitor to the cause just yet, even though he fully intended to destroy their Order.

That said, what this man had done was directly compromise the Order. He was, indeed, guilty of conspiring with the enemies of the Sith and for that he would be punished. It wasn't unnatural to love a Jedi, but it was not good to be sharing Sith secrets with them. Secrets that could leak back to the Silver Jedi. Even Leos hadn't gone that far in his conversations with Teynara. There was still propriety necessary, after all.

His eyes turned to @Tarek and he tsked at the Acolyte.

"He's guilty because he gave the Jedi actionable information on us. There's nothing against him seducing a Jedi, but giving her intelligence to use against us makes him guilty of treason. Given what Velok said about him not sharing the intelligence he got in return only further shows where his loyalties lie."

He turned his attention back to the man in question.

"I say he's guilty but death is too easy a punishment for him. Something worse is in order, I think."

[member="Velok the Younger"]

 

[Darth Voracitos]

"If death is no solution," A baritone voice seemed to manifest itself in the air surrounding all of the assembled Lords of the Sith, responding seemingly directly to [member="Darth Ignus"]'s comment. "Let him live... so he may suffer beneath me." Most would not recognize this new presence, but would all the same feel the magnitude of the approaching Darkness. The likes of [member="Velok the Younger"], [member="Tirdarius"], and [member="Anaya Fen"] would have the benefit of instant recognition, yet even they would be caught off guard.

Last of anyone's knowledge, the presence they now sensed had been dead now, for well over a decade, perhaps two. It would be likely, they would all have expected never to have known the Shadow Emperor again upon his demise within the Throne of the Sith Empire. Little to their knowledge, by the will of the force his soul cast in the Garden of Thorns of the Netherworld, he was set free and brought to flesh. As fate would have it though, it would be Kaine Zambrano under the guise of Darth Vornskr, which would seal him away for another decade, embroiled within his own decadent asylum composed of his own corrupted flesh. Lorrd had already felt the rise of their old Master, bathed in the fury of an Emperor scorned.

Now it was time, for whatever remained of the scattered Sith, to remember - Voracitos.

A throne hovered into the assembly, with a procession of shadowy wisps and one dauntingly tall figure, [member="Karn Zhakul"]. Within that Throne which held four insect-like legs to either side of it, was the image of indulgence incarnate. The purple robed mass which rested comfortably within the black obsidian Throne was incredibly large, but perhaps not quite as large as their memory of him... it has been some time since he has consumed enough to approach that morbidly imposing size. Although his face was largely shrouded, his face was still a very large one, and not even the shade of his hood could hide the black ceramic inorganic "flesh" which now composed roughly half his face.

Slowly, the Dark Lord Returned, found a place to rest he and his followers. The four insectoid legs descended to the earth, until they collided and pressed into the stone. The twenty one resurrected Ethereal Slaves, knelt silently and simultaneously in a semi-circle behind him, while Karn would likely stand beside his mobile Throne.

"Let him live." Voracitos' gaze would look down upon 'Darth' Maladon, a gold speckled violet eye and a mechanical crimson eye fell to his indignant form, all the while revealing the true brutal visage of his mangled features - desolated through his over-consumption of the dark sides' nectar.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

Things were beginning to take form, Sith Lords spoke out, exercising their right to speak.

The truth is what really mattered here. The galaxy viewed them all as sadistic, enraged warlords suckling at the power of the Dark Lord himself. This however, was a false persona, a stereotype woven into the societal drones that Jedi controlled. It was an ignorant to think that the sith were all murderous and treacherous individuals, but Darth Maladon was fruitful in his attempt to make such rumors truth. He was a weed that refused to heed the words of his brethren, an act that lead him to his current fate.

The Sith Order was more than what Darth Maladon represented, it was a way of life. While the things required to become one were sought as violent, criminal, and obscure. Those that made it close to the darkside and its teachings understood the sacrifices that had to be taken. These couldn't be overlooked, much like that of the traitor before them. Kevros knew how hard those that came before him worked to keep the order intact. There was no doubt in his mind that justice, whether through death or torture would be granted. The lords that spoke among each other earned their say. Kevros had little to contribute, but something still irritated him. The code began to run its course though his mind, like a gear cog turning over and over.

Through Passion, I gain strength.

The acolyte [member="Tarok"] that spoke before him, was informed that it wasn't the bedding of Jedi that brought him to the stand, but the actions of treachery. Just as Kevros thought of a amiable idea he was cut off. The arrival of [member="Darth Voracitos"] made him tingle, the force drowning him in the depths of the darkside. His mere presence seemed daunting and in retrospect his candid solution seemed cynical, almost befitting himself. The darkside like many of the others poured out from him, like a pool of black tar trapping those in its clutches. The Sith Lords were all overwhelmingly remarkable. This didn't anger or force fear into Kevros' heart, instead it inspired him to attain what they had and more. Such things, no matter how trivial would have to wait.

Tilting his head slightly to the side he stepped out of line, observing the bare sith on trial. Considering the scopes of his eyes, he grinned beneath his mask and chimed in on the prospect of keeping him alive.

"First I'd like to take the time and say what an honor it is to be in the presence of you fine Lords. Many of you may not know me, which isn't to say you should. Simply put, I am Kevros Kovani." Kevros sighed beneath his golden mask, his lengthy cloak sliding across the black obsidian ground. "Merely a student of the darkside. Now, this man." He paused stiffening his arm outward and pointing to the accused. "Shared valuable information with the Jedi. He would rather lose sight of his own teachings than cripple the blind. He knew what his actions would bring him, any man would. The real question here, if I may ask...Is why exactly is a Lord of his stature willing to throw everything away for those who are corrupt, lied to, restricted of their freedom. Perhaps it's not as simple as love, but maybe more."

Kevros looked around, curious if he had caught the attention of anyone listening. He knew his word held little weight, but standing by wasting precious time would not be condoned, not by his peers, but himself.

"[member="Darth Ignus"] you say guilty. Awful quick of a verdict when the accused has yet to explain, if given the chance; that is. Call me curious or stupid, either way, I can't accept the idea of a Sith Lord, with such achievements, to tear down what this Order has built. [member="Darth Voracitos"] you say to let him live, under the torment of your hands. How are we to grow if we are so quick to dismantle one of our own. Don't misunderstand me, innocence is no longer the question, that much I do know. However, what makes us any better than him if we blindly accept his fate. We are a brotherhood, as far as I can tell, we sith are a proud organization. I say let him speak, explain, and if the force has taught us anything... It's that the force will free Darth Maladon."

He was like a contortionist with words, weaving them carefully for those to hear. He didn't mean to defend the poor sith lord, but merely tried to make the others see in a different light. If all trials forced accused to death or torture, they would grow less in numbers, weaker than the time before. The One Sith had done just the same, becoming nothing more than a distant memory. Kevros shifted his gaze to [member="Velok the Younger"] and retracted his arm back to his side. Walking back to the pillar he stood quietly near, he added one last thing toward the Sith Lord that brought them all here.

"The truth, it's what everyone here wants...give it to them...and maybe, just maybe you'll have a chance. My verdict is undecided."

The words slithered out like a viper stoking at the tension in the air. His wouldn't be a popular opinion. That much he knew, whatever came after his glorious speech was up to the rest of them and Dath Maladon. The force whispered to him with a comforting embrace, his mind cleared of doubt.

He knew he was right.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Never Surrender

Here stood a man accused, a man tied to a wooden stake at the edge of a caldera. He was alleged to have slept with a Jedi, to have fed information to the cretins that sought the eradication of the Sith with as much fervor as some of the more animalistic Sith pursued for the Jedi. Certainly such treachery would have warranted his death - though not a publicized trial. But, then, Vitium had never been one to care for grandstanding in this manner - rather preferring to make a show of skill, of power, than to parade a puppet to be burned in effigy. Even if the man was guilty of his transgressions against the Sith his death should have been served swiftly, painfully, not made a mockery of - an example of. Those among them that were weak questioned this act with as much wisdom as the ones who were running this trial. They wanted a "fair" trial, something that was as laughable as executing a Sith for their acts of betrayal.

It wasn't being a traitor that earned this man his death sentence, and it most certainly wasn't his sleeping with Jedi - it was his weakness that caused him to buckle at the knees to quench his thirst at the skirt of some Jedi schutta, it was his stupidity that had him discovered by his peers, and it was now the "Sith's" powerlessness that kept him tied to a wooden stake. Too pigheaded to resist the urge to stick his hands where they shouldn't be, too stupid to realize when he should quit while ahead, and too weak to put up any kind of a fight. Darth Maladon? If he'd been with the One Sith, it was either after her time as the Voss Sith Lord's voice or he was merely another warm body among the ranks of the Sith. In either case, he was an insolent cur that needed his limbs removed and his life sucked from his pain-ridden body - not used as a scapegoat to bring the Sith's attention to the Silver Jedi and those that were traditional enemies of the Sith.

It would be too easy to choose a side - to sidle up to the consensus that he was guilty of some crime, or to move towards the camp of the uninitiated and claim that ample proof be provided before delivering the final blow to end his life.

The only crime the man was guilty of, in Darth Vitium's eyes, was that he forsook the dark side of the force to pursue something as feeble and fleeting as love. And that, alone, was enough to warrant his death - but one without mercy, without opportunity for trial by his peers. "Fairness" was reserved for those who clawed it from the cold, dead, hands of their betters - it simply did not exist. Betraying Sith for the sake of the dark side, for a purpose befitting the act, would have earned him at least her apathy.

"They say there is honor among thieves, but we are not a band of smugglers - and we are not the Brotherhood of Darkness." She said sharply, her statement in response to [member="Kevros Kovani"]. While the others gathered around to observe the trial with a modicum of interest, Vitium instead stood near the rear, farther away from the ordeal. She had no interest in justice, nor in personal self interest - her will was to topple the balance of the force in favor of the darke side. "Honor, justice - ideals pale in importance to the Dark Side of the Force. To even suggest that the importance of the balance of the force is less than the life of one man, or that our cohesion is dependent on something as insignificant as this, only speaks volumes of your inexperience."

"Kill the man and be done with it, he is not even worth the charade of a trial we are putting on for him."

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​Karn stood alongside [member="Darth Voracitos"] and the whisps of shadow surrounding them kicking the doors open ahead of his masters arrival. He wore a mask completely covering his head in the visage of a wicked demon while a set of black hooded robes covered his body. Still even with his savage features covered he still stood a towering seven feet and six inches, a walking tower among the Sith in the chamber. While Karns facial features were carefully concealed under the helmet his anger boiled deep inside and a scowl sat fixed on his face while he stared down at the other Sith around. Through his bond with the Shadow Emperor he could see pieces, bits of memory from ages past and there were a scant few here he could immediately recall from those pieces: [member="Anaya Fen"], @Tirdarius. It was an odd thing to recall someone and not truly know them, they were his memories and they also weren't, one needed to sort through the maze carefully even while it pulled at ones sanit.

​While his master's baritone voice rocked through the chamber Karn's eyes scanned over every Sith who stood in the chamber searching, hunting. There was a Sith Lord in his dreams he never truly recognized, one he saw locked in vicious battle with the Shadow Emperor and the same one who sealed him deep beneath the earth. Unbenownst to Karn this was [member="Darth Carnifex"], who wasn't present for the gathering of Sith. None fit the description right for the tall and powerful avatar of war he saw in his dreams, the dark armored juggernaut who entered the fray and then walked out the ultimate victor, the hunt was on.

​For now Karn remained silent as befitting his position as an acolyte, he was only an acolyte of the dark side to speak unless spoken to would involve insulting others and embarrassing his master in the process.

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya's sharp intake of breath at the familiar presence that entered the room was released in a low hiss of anger. [member="Darth Voracitos"], the gluttonous Lord who had seen fit to send a nobody to cast her from the Empire with little more than a fruit basket as compensation. Anaya's anger cane off her in hot waves.

She glanced around, counted the heads that were content for death. Those that had protested were hardly worth listening too. Acolytes and knights all beneath her and this fat schutta. Anaya rose, slowly, her gaze settling upon his rotten form, how his own mass hadn't killed him, she failed to understand.

"Voracitos." The name came out as a purr, as she placed herself between him and Maladon. "What a pleasure it is to see you again." She lied her eyes glittering dangerously. She turned her back on him fixing her gaze once more upon Maladon.

"What would you prefer?" She asked stepping closer to he accused. "Death? Or a lifetime of servitude under this beast?" Maladon's eyes glanced over his shoulder at the bubbling magma pit below him, then moved slowly to settle upon Voracitos.

He nodded, very slowly towards him.

Anaya grinned. She had no authority here, really, she was one among many one to decide the fate for the greater good. The ropes binding Maladon were released. There would be uproar, they might even cry for her head next but it would be worth it.

She stepped back, watched him massage his wrists, noted the relief that ran all over his face. Then the realisation of his danger as Anaya swelled in the force. A concentrated ball of telekinetic energy slammed into his chest lifting him from his feet and catapulting him over the edge.

"Whoops." Anaya exclaimed with a smile. "My sincere apologies, my friends." She turned to address the court, "It was too much of an opportunity to resist. Do we have someone else to play with?"