SithLore

***Bandomeer System, Meerian Sector, Grid Coordinates O-6***

***Castle Fulgur, near the Southern Tip of the Greening Isle***

Under more agreeable circumstances, Vassyl might have enjoyed donning his thickly-woven parade jacket. However, with the seemingly murderous torrent of rain barreling down upon the young officer, coupled with an equally violent wind, the otherwise comforting cloth whipped about his person like some demented amoeba. Yes, it was an Empress’ given miracle that Doren and his small congregation successfully made the climb up the winding stone path, finally coming to rest under a large, chiseled awning. Look directly ahead, the Captain took a moment to appreciate the archaic stylings of the large durasteel portcullis, and the fine blue beachwood doors tightly shut behind it. The Imperial party idled for some minutes, until at last, the gate began to rise, and red-clad figure inched his way into view.

It was a man, and one whose handsome features were not perturbed by the hectic weather. Sporting light brown eyes and a combed bushel of blunt, golden hair, the Master of the Keep did not seem to be more than a few years Doren’s senior. “Captain!”, the cloaked gentleman hollered out against the deafening volleys of rain, “So nice of you to finally join us!”. Walking forward, the man came to rest no more than two feet from Vassyl’s position, and presented a curved, angular salute. “I apologize for not coming sooner, Your Lordship!”, Doren barked back, trying his utmost to be heard over the spring showers, “Words cannot properly confer my gratitude for your generous hospitality”. “You’ve not seen anything yet!”, the gleaming noble quipped back, “Just wait 'til you taste the feast we’ve whipped up!”.

With a sweep of his arm, the amenable host, beckoned his guests away from the remote climate, and over the threshold of his domain. Though the endless weeping of the clouds feel down into the middle of the small inner courtyard, Vassyl was much relieved to find a series of drains and sluice-gates to guard against flooding. “I do hope you’ve brought your appetite”, the gilded individual continued in more inside-friendly tone, “Even in times of war, we Jabiimi never fail to throw our weight into a good meal”. Flashing Doren a coy grin, the man dotingly added, “And as far as cooks are concerned, you’ll find no equal to my little sister”. Leading the visiting group beneath the western battlements, Vassyl’s guide then brought within the fortress’ walls, and the young Jaeman’s eye lit upon several banners adorning the interior.

The design was simple but poignant. Two silver cumulonimbus clouds joined at the corners, blaring three yellow bolts of lightning down below. The art, impressive as it was, also jogged sensibility in the young officer. “Once more, I’ve forgotten my manners”, Vassyl explained in an apologetic tone, “Permit me a brief introduction”. Working his own gesticulations, Doren turned to one side, and motioned towards the masked individual that had been silently traipsing at his rear, “Allow me to introduce High Inquisitor Prazutis: one of the program’s finest agents, and the newest addition to the Inquisitorius’ Central Command”. “Ahhh yes”, the light-eyed fellow exclaimed with revelation, “The one you had mentioned before in your letters”. Straightening up, the man provided another salute, directed at Prazutis, and announced, “My name is Tempo Stratus, Lord of this Castle, and Chief Successor to House Stratus. I am most impressed with your work Inquisitor: know that you are most welcome here”.

Prazutis was silent through the entire trip leading up to the fortified building. Throughout the trip, he only wondered to himself what the Captain- turned interim Governor- would need him to accompany this group for. However, hearing the name of the Stratus home, Prazutis remembered the tales of the CIS group that had effectively wiped out an attacking group of Clone troopers.

"It is an honor to meet you, Lord... and a privilege to hear of your approval."

Prazutis gave a salute of his own, the shoulders of his cape raising slightly before sliding back to their normal position, his arms returning to his sides as the cloth wrapped around him once more.

Prazutis wondered, as he looked back to Captain Vassyl, why he sent out a letter to the Lord regarding Prazutis. Truly, Prazutis thought, Captain Vassyl was pleased with Prazutis' work, shown both by his new place within the Inquisitorious ranks, and by this newfound information.

However, Prazutis let the two men continue their business without further speech on his part, interested more in listening than in speaking at the present moment.

“The real privilege belongs to me”, Tempo nodded approvingly, “It has been some time since a Jedi Hunter of your caliber has graced our halls”. Turning about with a swish of his blood-red cloak, the Lord Stratus, motioned for his guests to continue onward, as the part ventured up a set of finely upholstered stairs, “My Sister expects us in the dining hall, but along the way, I thought the Captain and the High Inquisitor might enjoy a tour of the family collection”. Rounding another corner, Tempo’s muscles twitched some under the fine fabric as he parted another, smaller ornate set of doors, revealing a long, narrow chamber. Whereas the previous sections of the castle had been lit with energy-based units, Vassyl’s eyes took a moment to adjust to what seemed to be torchlight.

What Doren saw next in the shadowed hall made his entire body shudder. Mounted on the walls, like relaxed butterfly specimens, were the intact or nearly-intact skeletons of numerous individuals. Vassyl scanned the cruel setting over, and his horror only magnified with each blink of an eye. While many of the cleaned corpses appeared to belong to adults or late adolescence, several seemed to be the inarguably light frames of children. “The Jedi is a slippery beast”, Tempo lectured on, oblivious of how pale the Captain had suddenly become, “Their species is founded on deceit and cunning: but for all their tricks, my family has never failed to get the better of them”. Waving another friendly hand, Tempo direct his guests’ attention to a series of tabletop display cases- whose contents proved even more macabre.

Brains, bisected right down the central lobe. Hearts parsed out by the chamber- sometimes cut into four places given the original owner’s biology. Further still were other foreign organs, many of which were otherwise unidentifiable to Vassyl’s eye. “Many of the women in my family have found acclaim as doctors and scientists in the field of anthropology”, Tempo elaborated, “And though the ignorant Jedi regurgitate the term ‘midichlorian’ to try and rationalize their devilry, we have continued to search for reliable answers ever since the days of my Great Great Grandfather”. “Such a- noble undertaking”, Doren coughed, doing his best to deliver the etiquette befitting of a Lord’s guest. “Perhaps you’d like to see the fluid preserves?”, Tempo offered, pointing to a refrigerator unit off to the left.

“No!”, Doren squeaked, before catching ahold of his trepidation and repeating, “No, I do not think that will be necessary. You already given us so many sights to take in”. “You make a valid point”, Tempo relented, before an excited smile sprang across his face, “Still, if you’ll allow me one more exhibit, I think have some objects here that would be of great interest to the High Inquisitor”. Walking astride Prazutis, the Elder Stratus sibling led the way to one more table. Through the transparasteel lid, fragments, or fully intact lightsaber hilts could be seen: some with their power crystals lying beside them- and some with the bony hand of their previous owners still attached! “Though we of House Stratus have little need for such crude tools”, Tempo declared, “One can still appreciate craftsmanship when they see it, yes?”.

Prazutis continued his fit of silence as he walked beside Vassyl, almost bored looking at the dismembered skeletons and such of the Jedi who had let themselves be killed by this 'Family'. If they were struck down and left their bodies behind, rather than learning to become one with the force as some of their predecessors, then whatever fate lay for their demise was fitting of them.

However...

"Truly a sight to see, so many lightsabers gathered in one space."

Prazutis slowly examined each of the lightsabers, both the hilt and, if he could see them, the crystals that were within. One in particular caught Prazutis' eye.

"By the force... a ghostfire crystal."

Inside the case, beside a saber that had been cut clean in half, was a black crystal. The lightsaber looked like a standard Jedi warrior hilt, if there was such a thing. Generic, completely ordinary to the eye. But it seemed that may have been the point.

"I do remember reading of the ghostfire crystal... extremely rare. And when used... it gave no sound and the blade was completely invisible."

Prazutis stepped away, looking back to the Captain and the Lord of the house.

"My apologies for rambling."

With a brief bow to the two, Prazutis returned to his place alongside Vassyl. Although this Family seemed to be extremely sadistic, at the least, some of the lightsabers that they held were not only extravagant, but extraordinarily rare.

“You have an excellent eye, High Inquisitor”, Tempo lauded, “There aren’t many experts that can identify this little number on sight alone”. “Still”, the Lord Stratus deferred, gesturing towards the door at the end of the macabre chamber, “My Sister’ll have my head on platter if we don’t hurry along”. Indeed, as the group left the trophy room, much to Doren’s immediate relief, they were soon after confronted with a spacious, ornamental dining hall. “Did you get lost again?”, a light, teasing voice rang out, “I’ll have to thank our guests for pointing you in the right direction”. Off to the side of the long, fabric-draped table, a slender woman of about Doren’s height stepped out into view, her glittering locks immediately marking her as the Imperial’s co-host, “What do you have to say for yourself, My Lord Brother?”.

“Don’t start with me, Sister”, Tempo quipped back with a cheeky grin, “If you had gone to the door in my place- well, I don’t you’d have ever left the family collection”. With a doting sigh, the gilded woman rested her pale face against a outstretched hand, before agreeing, “You’re probably right. And, unlike some of us, I know my way about the spices: so this was probably for the best”. “In any case”, the buxom beauty commented wryly, her ice blue eyes glinting out at Vassyl and company, “It seems introductions are in order: I am Venta Stratus, and it is a true pleasure to make your acquaintance”. With a single, graceful motion, the Lady Stratus sank into a refined curtsy, and then set about getting the seating arrangements in order.

The dinner spread was a splendid assortment of fresh seafood, prepared in a fusion of Bandormeerian and Jabiimi culinary conventions. For the most part, the conversations were tame and well-meaning, yet throughout the light chit-chat, Venta’s gaze consistently darted over at the masked Prazutis. Finally, the noblewoman could no longer contain her excitement or curiosity, and when a lull presented itself, she called out, “High Inquisitor~ If its not too much trouble, won’t you tell us about one of your encounters with the Jedi? I would love to hear a first-hand account-”. The Younger Stratus Sibling sent a coy glance over to Tempo, and added, “As would My Lord Brother, no doubt”. “I see no harm in that”, Doren concurred, “So long as the geographical details remain generic at least”.

Prazutis kept his silence as he stood by the captain during the meal, of course himself and the Captain both knowing that his need for regular food was nonexistent these days. However, when asked about his encounters with the Jedi, Prazutis listened to Vassyl’s comment before beginning to recall his battles, picking one before speaking.

“This tale begins with a single youngling. One that was still unsure about their place in the galaxy after the death of her parents, but who had connections through family to the Jedi. However, before her Jedi friend arrived, I picked up the trail of the youngling and met her before the Jedi arrived to take her away. ”

Prazutis took a moment before he continued.

“I briefly spoke with the girl before the Jedi arrived. He saw me and immediately, I could see a sort of nervousness in his eyes. I ended up following the two until the Jedi confronted me near a landing pad. While I saw another Jedi pick up the girl on a speeder, I had to focus on the one in front of me. We ignited our blades and he fended me off for a few moments, but...”

Prazutis brought up his gauntleted arm, the lining of cortosis gleaming in the artificial lights.

“I blocked his blade with this, and drove my own blade through his chest.”

Prazutis put his armor’s arm back down, crossing his hands once more.

“That was my first Jedi Knight kill. Since then, I have claimed the life of a master, and one other knight. However, I would prefer not to boast too much. I hope my story sufficed.”

Prazutis was just fine with obliging a memory or two for the family, as the two of them being called “interested” in the Jedi was an understatement to say the least. However, he refused to ramble or carry on in front of the captain. Not only was it bad for his image, but it was trivial. No point in getting excited about such things, he thought to himself.

The Stratus Siblings looked on with awe as Prazutis detailed a fraction of his exploits. Tempo for his part, twirled the pointed end of his goatee- a telltale sign of heated interest, while Venta pressed an inflective hand deeper against her bosom as the suspense of the tale built at reached its apex. Both nobles nodded agreeably at the tale’s end, and were subtly tempted to applaud the man, though broader military custom looked ill on such gestures. Still, the duo would not hesitate to make their approval known. “A masterful execution”, Tempo praised, “I do wish I’d been there to see it”. “And if only I could have collected a sample or two”, Venta pouted, tracing a circle with her slender, jagged fingernail, “It's been such a long time”.

“There there, Sister”, the Elder Stratus doted, grasping his sibling gently by the wrist, “We will have our day in the sun”. Standing up with an excited jolt, Tempo looked upon his Imperial guests with manic enthusiasm, and continued, “Yes, the time for our House to pay its dues is come at last! If our esteemed visitors have had their fill, I think it’s high time for the main event”. Vassyl, having gleefully partaken of the fine shellfish, was almost to the point of bursting, and was rather amenable to stretching his legs again. The Captain’s change of attitude was not to last however, as he and his entourage were reacquainted with Bandomeer’s weather patterns. Nonetheless, the display the young officer came to observe in the castle’s training yard was not one he’d soon forget.

Zooming about, a flock of light crimson blurs darted from here to there, some bearing blasters, other wielding melee weapons. When one or two happened to pause for a moment, Vassyl was able to scan the combatants with greater clarity. Contrasting the blood red synthweave suits were patches of dark gray battlegaunts, bill-tipped helmets sporting a sinister orange visor, and tall pair of repulsorlift boots, which periodically discharged smoke and fuel canisters at their masters’ bidding. This was the ace up the Stratus’ family’s sleeve: their own private army, and one that had perpetrated a violent vendetta for four generations. Apart from their blindings speed and quasi-flight capabilities, Doren was further surprised to find vintage beam rifles, vibroblade, and even vibroshields amongst their arsenal.

“Form up!”, Tempo bellowed, extenuating the second syllable. In an instant, the varied movement ceased, and twenty one individuals, all clad in identical attire, halted in a perfect rectangular formation. Offering their Lord and Overseer a crisp salute, those assembled straightened up, and with a single rhythmic crunch, stomped their right boots into the earth, and stood by at attention. “We are the Wind”, the Elder Stratus began in solemn, but audible tone. “And the Wind does not tire”, a unified choir of voices answered back. “We are the Storm”, Tempo continued, lifting his hands upwards as he sustained the sermon. “And the Storm knows no mercy”, the dread procession called back, without any shred of unique intonation.

“We pay tribute to the Heavens!”, the Young Lord screamed, a maddening glimmer in his eye. “And so the Heavens promise Justice”, the famed militia confirmed at their leader. “Tell me who you are!”, Tempo glared down with fierce tenacity, his white of his teeth flashing against the clouded backdrop. “We are the Many made One”, the masked posse exclaimed, “The Fury of the Skies”. “We are the Nimbus!”, the rain-battered platoon declared with an air of finality, invoking an appreciate smirk from their Patriarch. “And so, with your blessings, the Nimbus Command stands ready to serve Her Majesty”, Tempo concluded, turning back to his honored guests. “Captain Krein and Squad Two can be deployed immediately”, the Elder Stratus added, floating his gaze to Prazutis, “I trust they will be of great use to you, High Inquisitor”.