Desmond C'artyom
Space Jockey
Rishi… A planet known for its galactic dissidence since the Old Republic. No longer. The Empire had brought down it’s full weight on the pirate cove and raids had taken place across the planetscape. Spice farms were lit aflame. Arms dealers, illegal smuggling operations, and the odd Rebel cell had all been disbanded. Large orb like probes patrolled the streets and Stormtroopers dotted every corner. There were so many undesirables it was almost impossible to house them all. As a result makeshift prison camps had sprung up near overnight, guards patrol the outer gates and spotlights line the catwalks. The criminal scum stay within these camps with no rule of law other than their own.
When the time came for trials they were done in masses. Men arrested within the same area were delegated to be tried at the same time with a round up being made based on the seriousness of the crimes committed. Prisoners were transferred to the tribunal offices via massive all terrain crawlers with large treads and humungous bodies. Once prisoners were placed within the all terrain vehicles hopes of escape diminish greatly. Guards are everywhere aboard these massive vehicles. Prisoners are bound and placed into shielded cells. Each cell is embedded with a kill switch. Allowing the ruling “warden” within these vehicles the ability to simultaneously kill every prisoner aboard should a riot ensue.
Desmond idly waited near the drop off point where today’s prisoners were scheduled to arrive. He watched as in the distance a large trail of dust was kicked up by the massive sandcrawlers treads and yawned boredly. The final phase of the project was handled by Imperial Intelligence and the Inquisition. There were reportedly around two hundred prisoners arriving today and they all came from a rough neighborhood. It was rumored that there had been rebel activity within the area and as far as verdict’s went this usually meant death for all involved. The giant crawler entered the tribunal compound and slowed to a stop. A large ramp descended and from its bowels milled about a massive amount of prisoners.
Des withdrew a small pouch of tobacco from his persons and a thin piece of paper. He placed the tobacco within the paper, with index and thumbs carefully rolled the cigarette. He placed it to his lips and lit it. He drew deeply on the square and smoke drifted lazily about his persons. With a raise of Des’s fist then a few short chopping motions the rest of the Imperial agents fell in line. They approached the mob of prisoners and Des raised his voice amplifier. “All prisoners make several single file lines and prepare to be judged. Emperor have mercy on your souls…”
[member="Butch Mahan"]
[member="Varren Kesk"]
[member="Baron Morcus"]
[member="Ashley Myth'rand"]
When the time came for trials they were done in masses. Men arrested within the same area were delegated to be tried at the same time with a round up being made based on the seriousness of the crimes committed. Prisoners were transferred to the tribunal offices via massive all terrain crawlers with large treads and humungous bodies. Once prisoners were placed within the all terrain vehicles hopes of escape diminish greatly. Guards are everywhere aboard these massive vehicles. Prisoners are bound and placed into shielded cells. Each cell is embedded with a kill switch. Allowing the ruling “warden” within these vehicles the ability to simultaneously kill every prisoner aboard should a riot ensue.
Desmond idly waited near the drop off point where today’s prisoners were scheduled to arrive. He watched as in the distance a large trail of dust was kicked up by the massive sandcrawlers treads and yawned boredly. The final phase of the project was handled by Imperial Intelligence and the Inquisition. There were reportedly around two hundred prisoners arriving today and they all came from a rough neighborhood. It was rumored that there had been rebel activity within the area and as far as verdict’s went this usually meant death for all involved. The giant crawler entered the tribunal compound and slowed to a stop. A large ramp descended and from its bowels milled about a massive amount of prisoners.
Des withdrew a small pouch of tobacco from his persons and a thin piece of paper. He placed the tobacco within the paper, with index and thumbs carefully rolled the cigarette. He placed it to his lips and lit it. He drew deeply on the square and smoke drifted lazily about his persons. With a raise of Des’s fist then a few short chopping motions the rest of the Imperial agents fell in line. They approached the mob of prisoners and Des raised his voice amplifier. “All prisoners make several single file lines and prepare to be judged. Emperor have mercy on your souls…”
[member="Butch Mahan"]
[member="Varren Kesk"]
[member="Baron Morcus"]
[member="Ashley Myth'rand"]