Recent content by Tameon Sylverian

With Tameon’s pistol holstered on his right hip, it wasn’t as awkward to grip it with his left hand given position and orientation. He had reached for his pistol while blocking his enemy’s blade, and both blades were above his other weapon at that moment. With the Sith’s sword coming toward his...

If not for the helmet over Tameon's head, the very skies might scorch alight from one man’s roars as he gazed skyward, unable to ignore the burn. An inferno of agony gripped his broken knee, rendered useless. It was all Tameon could do to draw upon the Force to control the pain at least to some...

The blades connected. Tameon’s intention was indeed to shove his enemy’s blade to her left, create distance, then attack her arm. A minor interruption as his blade was instead being pushed to his own left upon her weapon's redirection from his leg to his weapon. Once the blades clashed, the...

There she was. Astrid al-Bahir. An astral projection, vehement, a voice of vengeance, with a sword born from the stars. A riveting speech. If needless. If these troops didn’t already know their lives depended on victory against these Sith then they were idiots to begin with. Sylverian. Din...

So much happening at once. So many pieces on the board. Factions. Allies. Enemies. But much and more of the same thing in this galaxy. Sure, a Hutt had just declared over the Empire, and there was war, but it seemed like only moments ago that Ossus was a battleground before today. Truly, war...

Burn. Bleed. It didn’t really matter to Tameon. He who had taken the head of another. He wasn’t the first, by any means, and he would not be the last. There are still others. House Redtyde, that was their name. Bravely playing the game, these three brothers. No. That’s wrong. Tameon corrected...

Silence. Sometimes it gives way to violence. Loud, so many people are, thrashing arms. He had been to enough taverns, cantinas, to see the drunkards, and how they harmed. They did play their part, giving way to their tempers, unbridled, like an untamed beast. They sang their song, fingers to...

Darkness. Can a man grip it in his fist? If he did, would he relinquish it? Darkness. He would not dare to kiss it. A man has ever danced with it. Between his fingers, darkness slips, like sand, escaping, crushed glass. Sharp as a sword, darkness pricks, like a sword’s tip, and like dragonglass...

Remember, remember…the embers of Redember... He hears the words when he sleeps and breathes. His mother had sung them to him, closing his eyes. A song of the dragon, of blood and fire, death, life. A dragon’s cry…across the sky… We can hear you, O dragon, my blood… In the inferno were you born...

O dragon, dragon with wings and horns. With teeth and talons, O how you gore. You breathe flame, great dragon, fire. A roar, heart’s quake, burns brighter. The sigil of House Din. A Sylverian will remember it. Upon it, gold may be a Tiefling, beneath a red dragon. His own noble house, no royal...