Trimedor

Lord Marshal Trimedor
“Keep What You Kill.”

Trimedor wasn’t born — he survived into existence. Dragged screaming from the wreckage of a slave transport, he grew up feral in the dark, caged on a forgotten penal moon where the guards didn’t bother giving prisoners names. They welded a muzzle to his face at age five. He ripped it off at seven… along with the guard who tried to tighten it.

He learned early that mercy is prey behavior.
So he stopped behaving like prey.

Trimedor escaped in a blizzard of violence, walking across the frozen surface of that moon long after any normal man should’ve died. Some say he froze solid and forced his heart to restart out of spite. Others say he never needed one.

His first ship wasn’t stolen — it was hunted. He drifted toward it in dead vacuum, boarded without being detected, and shredded the crew one by one. When he reached the captain, Trimedor finally spoke:

“You don’t deserve this life.”

He slit the man’s throat with his own dog tags and claimed the ship by the only law he recognized.

Keep what you kill.

Rumors about him grew like infections:
That he sees in total darkness.
That he tracks heat signatures through bulkheads.
That he can smell fear through sealed armor.
Nobody agrees on the details. Everyone agrees on the outcome.

Trimedor rose through the underworld not by winning battles, but by erasing those who stood in his way. He didn’t challenge the ruling warlord of his faction — he stalked him. Killed his guards. His advisors. His decoys. Drove him into isolation until the warlord had no one left to hide behind.

When Trimedor finally took the throne, he dragged the dying warlord up the steps by his spine and sat down before the body stopped twitching. The fleet bowed without being asked. Predators recognize their apex.

Now the Lord Marshal roams New Eden not as a ruler, but as a cosmic predator looking for worthy prey. He boards ships without armor so his enemies can see his eyes when they realize they never had a chance.

If his transponder appears in your system, run.
If he hails you, pray.
If he boards you, accept your place in the dark.

Because in the void, one truth binds all things:

Lord Marshal Trimedor keeps what he kills.