And the ambrosia flowed

Rare are times when the Sith partake of the golden ambrosia without the company of other Sith and Jedi. The dual celebrations of the Federation provided one such opportunity. With barely an open eye did the Sith initiate the process at the domicile of the scribe, before to the cave of the Prophet did we adjourn.

18-year old single virgins did we sacrifice, as the use of the Force was curbed with inhibition. Tales of battles past with the Storm troopers were heard, over the open fire and the waft of juices dripping from dead lambs.

The Buffoon was ever present, as was many from the Sphere. Present too was the Blind Baldy. Ignorant they were of the Sith in their midst, but mindful some have become. Fear that lost our subterfuge we have, but then, arise have the Sith promised.

Arise we will, and in the process bring much disharmony and mayhem.

And the Second Battle begins

In the periphery of memory, are the scars of the first battle. But already does the Prophet of Screen fire his next shots. Never hid his distaste for the Mandarins of the Mainstream and its past leader, The Priest Deity. Through the Flower of the Bewitching Hour, he now subdues to wage his war. Question she does, of motives and of crass commercialism. Aim his sights at his past collaborator, he wars by proxy.

The battle has begun, a battle which will engulf the systems of the Sphere and its denizens. Ever predictable are these battles, for a cycle of they have formed. The Sphere questions its relevance, and only through mayhem will it find its answers. Such are the machinations of powerful Sith, for within the chaos do the Sith find their destiny.

Awaken from his slumber does the Shaolin Tiger Monk, as enjoin the war he does. A war he now must participate in, for such is the path of the Ten Cyclical Pillars. Firmly on the side of the sleeping monster, he places his guns. But still, proxy is the return salvo. Through the subjugation of weak minds will the dual Prophets battle in the Sphere, as always keeping their machinations clandestine.

But lost is the Sphere in its own hype. Forgotten it has of its roots, and what it once hath proclaimed. For the Prophet himself had launched his soapbox on the back of little avian creatures with nothing to gain. And much gain has the Prophet garnered, on the efforts of the avian swarm. Now with SMS he chooses to go, influenced no doubt by chocolate dreams and of pictures of dead kings. But lost will this hypocrisy be, on the adulators of the Prophet, for complete is their subjugation to his agenda.

And a war they will fight, with much blood and mayhem. As the Sith have predicted.

Gleeful and satisfied in the advent of the forces of Fear, Anger, Hate and Suffering are the Sith.

Isolation

With the capitulation of the Sphere to the machinations of the Federation, lost has this once august space its revered place. With fanfare did the detractors of the Federation invite denizens of the Sphere. Some went, but take opportunity as always did the Prophet of Screen, with much grandstanding and verbiosity. Already, his influence wanes for his past unrepentant transgressions.

Into banality does the Sphere now progress, no more the promised resurgance of the Resistance. Assimilated it has, by the aura of Sith and Jedi much more powerful than it is. Long have the Sith feared such a situation, for when the Sphere lost its guardian Sith and Jedi, no longer potent it was. Defenceless it lay, for the rape and subjugation of its path. Complete now is the violation of its honour and virginity.

The rise of the Sith is awash in this landscape. For a promise to rebuild in the Sith'ari chronicles exist, and rebuild will the Sith. Rebuild a glorified Sphere through the art of mentor and guidance, and create more Sith will we. The regeneration of the Sith Order is paramount in the age of the new Chancellor, even as the Chancellor of past continues his attack. As Sith, factionalism we will not succumb to, and watch as observers is our mantle. Gently nudge and influence will the Sith, if the harmony is threatened.

Await though we do, with much trepidation, of the lost Sithling stranded in the Land of the Free and the Brave. Not careful she was, and lost in the machinations of the INS she has become. Now wait is all she can do, just as wait is all the Sith will do.

Promises once made yearn to be fulfiled.