Rhazul Sharak

Commander Rhazul "The Fist" Sharak is a low-born Thauzunian originally native to the industrial town of Toz'Vorc. Sharak is a cold, ruthless killer, with the personality to match. Since his 18th year, Sharak has acted as an elite enforcer for numerous syndicates tracking down rogue traitors that violated their contracts. More than 80% of Sharak's body has completely augmented, and to ensure compliance with any order, Sharak has his tongue removed.   As of 2697, Sharak has served as the Chief of Security Operations and Enforcement for the Ravvaar Syndicate Enforcement Corps (R-SEC). Sharak respects few, and trusts even less, among these he hold Kael Ravvyn in high regard.

Rhazul Sharak is an imposing figure, engineered as much as born—a towering presence that stands well above most Vey’Zari at 7’3”, with the mass and structure of a high-yield demolition frame. His physique is defined by a brutal, almost sculptural symmetry: shoulders broad enough to block a doorway, chest and limbs built for power, every line and angle shaped by cybernetic reinforcement. His skin, a stark white tone, is interrupted by dense arrays of subdermal alloy bracing and visible seams where flesh meets advanced composite plating. These transitions are not hidden, but integrated into the design of his body—deliberate, almost surgical, like a blueprint for functional dominance.   Sharak’s head is completely bald, the scalp smooth and slightly reflective under certain light, with a sharply defined skull that hints at both strength and the relentless efficiency of medical augmentation. His jaw is square and massive, often described as “unbreakable,” with little expression save for a permanent tension—lips pressed in a line, chin scored by faint scars and reinforcement ridges. His eyes, now deep red synthetic optics, are set beneath a heavy brow and burn with an unblinking, predatory focus. The sockets themselves are rimmed with faint metallic traces, the iris rings shifting and refracting light, giving him a distinctly non-Vey'Zari stare that unsettles even seasoned operatives. His nose is broad, bridge subtly reinforced with underlay plating from repeated breaks and battlefield repairs. The ears are close-set, their edges subtly angular from cartilage reinforcement, with embedded comm ports almost invisible at a glance.   Sharak’s neck and throat are marked by a dense collar of layered subdermal mesh, the result of repeated surgery and, ultimately, the removal of his tongue—there’s no scar, just a subtle change in the symmetry of his lower face, an ever-present sign of syndicate control. His arms are overlong and thick, the musculature exaggerated by subdermal cabling and hydraulic guides visible beneath the skin in certain angles, hands massive and designed for crushing force, each finger tipped with dull, armored caps. His legs follow the same blueprint—tree-trunk thick, calves and thighs etched with reinforcement ridges, knees shaped more by joint function than natural anatomy. Everything about Sharak’s build radiates intimidation and blunt efficiency, a body where nothing is wasted and every feature serves survival, violence, or control. The overall effect is unmistakable: a living weapon, engineered for fear, power, and absolute command of any space he enters.

Sharak’s attire is as utilitarian and uncompromising as the man himself—every piece engineered for function, intimidation, and sheer battlefield endurance. He favors heavy, reinforced tactical bodysuits designed to accommodate his immense, cybernetically-augmented frame. The base layer is a custom-fit impact mesh, heat-sealed and pressure-rated to disperse kinetic blows, with modular hardpoints along the chest, spine, and limbs for attaching armor segments, weapon mounts, or field repair kits. Over this, he wears composite armor plating, matte-black and non-reflective, covering vital zones while leaving full range of motion to his shoulders and joints. This plating is scored and scarred from countless engagements, each mark an unspoken record of violence survived.   His utility belt is loaded with quick-access holsters for combat blades, coded datakeys, and encrypted signal beacons—nothing is decorative, every pouch and slot measured for maximum efficiency in high-stress environments. Integrated into his left forearm is a retractable mono-edged combat knife, synched to his neural lattice for instant deployment, while his right wrist houses a biometric override module for securing syndicate systems or disabling enemy tech. Sharak’s boots are reinforced with alloy toe-caps and magnetic grip soles for vertical maneuvering in urban combat. He carries no personal mementos, jewelry, or tokens—his only “personal effects” are a set of ID tags embedded under the skin of his sternum, and a compact backup data shard encoded with encrypted kill-contracts. For Sharak, attire is just another extension of his purpose: armored, armed, and utterly without vanity, every piece made to survive the battlefield and command fear, whether on patrol in the undercity or crushing a traitor in open daylight.

All official records regarding Rhazul Sharak’s childhood and formative years remain sealed in deep syndicate archives, inaccessible to all but the highest echelon of Ravvaar command. What little intelligence has escaped redaction suggests Sharak was born into the industrial squalor of Toz’Vorc—a sector infamous for its hazardous labor zones, lethal pollution, and near-total absence of social structure. From the outset, Sharak’s early existence was marked by violence and deprivation; his birth record lists only a numeric code, no parental identifiers. There are no documented guardians, siblings, or personal affiliations during his formative years. Scattered surveillance logs from the area reference an anonymous youth matching Sharak’s description present at several incident sites—typically the aftermath of territorial clashes or fatal accidents—though all such files have since been classified or scrubbed.   Unconfirmed accounts from street-level contacts indicate that Sharak’s survival depended on a ruthless self-sufficiency from a young age. Syndicate medical logs (heavily redacted) note a series of critical injuries and “unauthorized” cybernetic enhancements beginning in adolescence, likely the result of illicit mod-clinic work or barter arrangements with back-alley techs. There is no evidence of formal schooling, mentorship, or family structure; any academic or social records that may have existed have been purged from all accessible networks. By age sixteen, Sharak had already undergone his first major spinal and limb reinforcement, apparently acquired as compensation for services rendered to unnamed local factions. Every trace of early training is similarly locked behind high-grade encryption, and all assessment profiles remain strictly classified. The sum total: a childhood erased by syndicate protocol, leaving only a handful of encrypted entries, redacted medicae logs, and a trail of unexplained casualties in his wake.

Sharak’s career record is a sealed file, with only the barest operational details available even to high-clearance personnel. Early contract work is referenced in code only—“asset removal,” “compliance recovery,” and “silent transfer”—all assignments focused on neutralizing threats inside and outside syndicate lines. Field upgrades were implemented on a rolling basis: first as crude survival mods, then as deliberate performance enhancements, each layered to push efficiency and survivability. Over his first decade, Sharak was deployed for critical enforcement sweeps, clandestine traitor culls, and the direct elimination of high-value defectors. Most internal reports from this era remain restricted, but the aftereffects—empty safehouses, gutted cells, and territory turnovers—trace his movements with brutal clarity.   In 2697, after a period of high-profile disappearances and internal power consolidations, Sharak was directly recruited as Chief of Security Operations and Enforcement for the Ravvaar Syndicate Enforcement Corps (R-SEC). There was no ceremony, no public record—only a new layer of access and responsibility layered onto his existing operational portfolio. Since then, all activities involving his command are compartmentalized and encrypted, with critical operations run under total blackout. His directives are executed with complete precision and without question, making him the Syndicate’s ultimate “fail-safe” for compliance, loyalty, and internal order. Any details of his current assignments or chains of command are accessible only to the highest tier of Ravvaar authority—by design, and by necessity.

Sharak’s reputation is more than fear—it’s institutionalized. Within the Ravvaar Syndicate and beyond, his presence alone is enough to maintain discipline in crews that otherwise answer to no law but profit and survival. Veterans and upstarts alike learn early that Sharak’s name is not used as a threat, but as a promise: if you violate your contract, turn traitor, or bring shame to the Syndicate, Sharak will find you—and when he does, he is not there to bargain. Even hardened mercenaries who laugh off death squads or rival hunters will back down the moment his profile appears in the threat log. The psychological edge of his silence and his sheer, unflinching physicality is so effective that R-SEC command routinely leverages his image alone to end disputes before a shot is fired. Rumor says that he has been used as a “living ultimatum,” sent to negotiation tables just to watch, leaving syndicate enemies rattled enough to accept any terms.   On the street, Sharak is a myth written in blood and rumor. There are stories—unconfirmed, always secondhand—about him walking unarmed into fortified safehouses and emerging alone, target neutralized, with not a word spoken. Lower-tier operatives joke that if you see his eyes in the dark, you’re already dead; field agents know that’s not a joke. He’s a favorite in undercity legends: the machine that can’t be bribed, the killer who never fails, the hand of syndicate justice made real. At the same time, his reliability is almost respected as much as it is feared. Even rivals acknowledge that Sharak doesn’t kill for pleasure, but for contract and order. Among syndicate enforcers, finishing a contract under Sharak’s command is considered a mark of survival and discipline; failing him, or facing him, is a cautionary tale no one wants attached to their legacy. In short: Sharak’s reputation isn’t just built on violence—it’s become a tool, a shield, and a warning that syndicate law will always be enforced, and that some debts are paid in silence.

Sharak’s private existence is defined by relentless discipline, secrecy, and a near-total absence of personal indulgence. He is strictly housed in R-SEC’s secure quarters, monitored by both biometric scans and internal surveillance, with his daily movements mapped out to the minute. Every aspect of his routine is engineered for efficiency and readiness: scheduled body maintenance, hardware recalibration, neural diagnostics, and solitary combat drills. Off-mission, he rarely leaves his assigned sector, using secure training bays and medical suites for physical upkeep. His living space is bare—no keepsakes, no comforts, just a storage locker for modular gear and a diagnostics chair for nightly system audits. His downtime, such as it is, consists of repair cycles and silent tactical reviews, using VR training environments to simulate every known threat scenario. Sharak neither seeks nor tolerates company, and no one is allowed access to his quarters without high-level clearance.   Attempts to infiltrate his personal life, even by other enforcers, have consistently failed—data trails are either scrubbed by syndicate operatives or never created in the first place. If Sharak holds memories or private allegiances, they are locked down behind layers of mental discipline and augmetic security. There are no records of substance use, recreational activities, or unauthorized contacts; even internal psychological evaluations list him as “emotionally neutral, subject to operational triggers only.” He does not maintain correspondence, and all biometric logs show a complete lack of stress response to isolation or extended downtime. In Ravvaar command gossip, it’s said Sharak exists solely to fulfill his function, his personal life not merely classified—but effectively erased. Those who work alongside him simply assume he has no private world left, only mission parameters and survival protocols.

[Classified]

Further investigation into Sharak’s origins has uncovered nothing but redacted files and conflicting witness statements, suggesting deliberate manipulation or erasure of any records pertaining to his bloodline. Internal syndicate reports refer obliquely to “parental elimination” operations carried out in Toz’Vorc during Sharak’s early adolescence, but the names and motives involved remain locked behind classified encryption. The rare operatives who worked alongside Sharak in his youth describe him as “alone even in a crowd,” rarely interacting with any who might claim kinship. It is rumored that any surviving relatives, if they ever existed, were either bought out by the Syndicate, relocated off-world under assumed identities, or simply disappeared—standard practice for the highest-risk enforcer candidates. Attempts by rival syndicates to trace familial leverage points have resulted only in dead-ends and, in two known cases, targeted disappearances of the investigators themselves.   His loyalty, such as it exists, appears to be shaped by professional hierarchy rather than personal attachment. The only relationship noted as persistent is with Kael Ravvyn, the current Ravvaar Syndicate head, whose respect Sharak acknowledges through formal salute and visible deference—an exceedingly rare gesture for someone of Sharak’s temperament and rank. The two have been observed working in silent tandem during high-priority security operations, and Kael is one of the few permitted to issue direct orders to Sharak without mediation. No other friendships, romantic partnerships, or informal alliances are present in any open or classified logs; syndicate psychologists speculate that any such connections would be considered a vulnerability, to be severed as a matter of operational protocol. To those within the organization, Sharak is the ultimate example of “purpose before person”—a man with no visible roots, no personal attachments, and no loyalties beyond the chain of command.

Rhazul Sharak is the textbook case of cold-blooded pragmatism dialed up to a brutal extreme. The man doesn’t waste time on conversation—mostly because he physically can’t. With his tongue removed as a security measure, Sharak communicates through a ruthless blend of blunt gesture, encrypted sign, and the sheer weight of presence. He is utterly direct, never indulging in sentiment or hesitation, and his loyalty is transactional: earned only through competence, fear, or proven utility. He’s known for holding a stare as sharp as a blade, weighing every soul in the room like a living threat assessment. Empathy is a foreign language; the only things he respects are skill, order, and the kind of loyalty that leaves blood on the floor.   Nearly eighty percent machine, Sharak’s augmented body is all function—raw power, precision, and tactical adaptability, with nothing soft or ornamental about it. He moves like a siege engine, deliberate and unyielding, using his immense reach, reinforced limbs, and unyielding cybernetic grip to break bones and willpower alike. His fighting style is brutal, efficient, and devoid of theatrics; he’s trained to end threats as quickly and permanently as possible, favoring direct confrontation and overwhelming force. He is a master bladesman, with monomolecular edge weapons built into his arms and joints, able to draw and strike in one seamless motion, and his synthetic optics allow him to track targets in low-light, smoke, or through most forms of optical interference. As a sharpshooter, his reaction speed is amplified by combat-grade neural processors, enabling pinpoint accuracy even under stress.   Sharak’s tolerance for pain is legendary—augmented pain-gating systems and redundant sensory bypasses let him fight through injuries that would cripple others. Psychological intimidation is a tool of the trade: his presence alone is enough to silence most disputes, and his discipline under fire is unshakable. Relentless in pursuit, he’s never been seen to tire, hesitate, or back down from a contract; his reputation for finishing what he starts is a cautionary tale in every syndicate undercity. Obedience is hardwired; he’ll follow orders to the letter, but never blindly—his mind is always calculating risk and advantage, watching for any sign of betrayal or weakness. Even among the Ravvaar Syndicate’s most hardened enforcers, Sharak stands apart—his silence, ruthlessness, and incorruptibility making him the Syndicate’s ultimate problem-solver. Outside the chain of command, he is feared even by his peers; only a select few, like Kael Ravvyn, have earned his hard-won respect. For most, Sharak is a silent engine of violence—implacable, incorruptible, and the last thing you want to see standing between you and the exit.