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Arkania -- Pre-Trial Holding Area

C'orringath Ven'traas didn't move, he didn't breath, he didn't think. Inside the frustratingly small cell that they were keeping him in for the hours prior to his trial, he had been content to lay still on what passed for a cot inside that wretched space, but as he had for the last....Was it three weeks that he had been here? A month? No, definitely two weeks or so since they had captured him and brought him to the Imperial Court at Arkania. it had all started with a rid on an Imperial base in Thracae that the master taken part in with many of his fellow Jedi and a small cadre of individuals who were not necessarily on the good graces of the Empire.

As far as he knew, however, C'orringath was the only one to have gotten captured from that group, and as she he figured they could call themselves lucky if nothing else. Of the operatives involved in the attack on the Thracae station, C'orringath was pretty sure that he was the only one to have been captured after the attack and brought to an internment He had been there for most of his sentence at that level, until he was moved to another area of the prison on good behavior. Now the cell he was in was the last cell he would be in before it was time for his trial.

The trial was set in stone, it was going to happen, and it would happen soon, the Jedi could almost have felt it. His weakened state as of late and the fun but inconvenient practice of having a healthy cocktail of drugs running through his system made it almost impossible for him to touch upon the power of the Force; for now all he thought he felt was the warm glow of the Force's inner light providing only a small amount of warmth that was easily contained inside the reinforced stone walls around him...

Now there was only to wait....

Via what had to be nothing more or less than a tumultuous winding hyperdimension of color and psychedelic effects (a dimension heralded by multicolored Wampas, no less). C'orringath found his setting changed from the audibly silent but visually load setting that had only seconds ago been his prsion cell, to what could only have been a veritable stadium of technicolor horror and macabre. Now there were many pygmy wamps, a terrible blue anthropomorphic snake with beedy red eyes C'orringath could only assume came from ingesting the blood of younglings, and a terrible crimson monolith. Both the blue and the red of these two individuals shot out and mingled into a delicious purple across C'orringath's field of vision, and he knew that there was something signifcant about the pair of them, something that he remembered, but something that also had him deathly tense and afraid. Though he was still screaming in terror, the master's rational mind was starting to wrestle some control from the off-the-cuff subconscious that had take control over the introduction of the drugs, but it was still hard to not be gripped with fear at the sight of all beings of all shapes and sizes warping and flashing and glowing and oscillating from and to all colors, all while clearly expressing their primal desire to consume his flesh.

Because of this, though he had calmed down considerably as he was left to realize his surroundings, C'orringath still tried to fight off the explosive colors that had been asaulting his senses, and as such he recoriled away from the lights and people in the coutroom well enough that the giant bruise on his neck from the rough injection minutes prior was probably more than visible just by happenstance, but he really didn't seem to care about that now. Indeed, his diluted eyes were fixed upon the Moff, whose flowing blonde hair, soft and flexible, make C'orringath absolutely sure that he was staring up at nothing more than a purple-feathered yellow-toned Kaminoan, who was most certainly considering the prospects of twisting her own neck into a pretzel, at least, C'orringath wouldn't put it past her. Stuttering lightly, C'orringath began to speak, his mind trying hard to be as serious as possible in the face of a purple-plumed chartreuse (traditional, of course) Kaminoan who was obviously very incensed with him;

"I'm sorry miss Your Honor, I swear I didn't take any of the clone's cookies...I mean...Eah...Wuhh..."

The Jedi master's perception was off, making standing hard, making it even harder, nay, impossible to access the Force to stabilize him. At the end of his "explanation" of himself, he began to tip forwards in the courtroom...