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Death awaits! Come meet your fate!(Marek S'hadar)

Darth Yamato

Ryker Caspar

A man in a Sith Stalker armor stood alone in a old temple. He was forced to be in this armor because it is the only think keeping him alive. Because his voice box was damaged, he had to have something which helped him talk. It deeped his voice to a bass tone.

The armor was painfully grafted onto his flesh and bone. Rather than utilize gauntlets, the armor instead replaced the vast majority of him hands with prostheses, though some flesh remained, allowing him to apply force lightning in combat without fear of it backfiring. The prostheses featured a set of metal claws attached to the finger tips. He had to get used to that, and he did, with practiced use. The head protection consisted of a form-fitting helmet that covered the entire head. The helmet face-plate resembled a Ubese bounty Hunter mask with a Mandalorian-style T-bar visor. The armor also appeared to include some type of breathing apparatus, though the mechanism appeared to be controlled by the wearer, rather than automated, as the breathing pattern was forced and eclectic. it also had a full body-suit made of the same quilted material as the one featured on Vader's armor, along with similar looking pectoral armor. The hands are gloved and the helmet has an outwards slanting metal plate attached that protects the rear and sides of the neck, and mimics the silhouette of Vader's helmet.

There are lightsaber hilts on his belt. one of them was his, the rest were taken from defeated opponents. He was 6'1", and 29 years old.
He broods on what had forced him to wear this.


Darth Yamato Was getting ready when a mission when the ship he was on blew up. It crashed landed, and was sat on fired. Yamato was burned all over, holding onto live with his anger and hate. A Sith found him and took him to there base where he was placed into sith Stalker armor, which kept him alive.

Flashback ends:

Now he stood there, staring off into nothing, his anger growing. He really needs something to kill. To take his rage out on. He walked around the temple, thinking to himself.

Marek S'hadar

No...they'd made another one. He thought he'd have been the last. He was wrong. Marek's eyes shot open from a meditative state as he sensed a dark presence on the Jedi world, one that was all to familiar to him. One, that with a few minor exceptions, had once been his own. He'd spent years behind that iron mask, his clawed hands crushing the life out of anyone who got in his way, his rage destroying everything in his path. The very thought of another Stalker chilled him to the bone, the sight of one was a whole new level of fear.

"So, you're my replacement?" He asked, looking down on the man below him who was clad in the all-to-familiar armor. In his hand, one saber rested, unignited, and in a reverse grip, once he'd had four on him at a time, but things had changed, his time with the order brought understanding to him. It also taught him he didn't need four sabers, largely because he had stopped using Jar'kai for a time. His other saber, the one he'd taken from a Jedi he'd killed during his time in the dark, rested safely in his quarters, awaiting a time it would be needed.

@[member="Darth Yamato"]