I am not a man. Neither am I a weapon. I am an idea given flesh. That idea is death. In my hands I wield tools of terrestrial obliteration. In my heart, the eclipsing power of a dead god. My bullets are tributary rivers emptying into an ocean of possibilities. My blade is sharp and honed with secrets. I am a Warlock... a Guardian. And Guardians make their own fate.

His will. Her life. One will be dominated. One won't have a choice. ONESHOT

Time. Like water it erodes the stones of history. But some secrets do not die easily. Some bide their time before they step into the light. Sometimes, the truest secrets of history... are fairy tales. One in particular; the tale of a sleeping forest.

Ever do our lives move forward through time, actions and consequences guided by the enigmatic hand of Fate. But Destiny is not assigned; it is forged. Let those of the Dark bear witness. Let the Light retreat before him. May the galaxy tremble. His rise begins now! Set in the Old Republic.