FENG SJADAR
The Still Fang
Feng | Xaela | He/They | Guard Dog, Not Yours
"If I am quiet, it’s because I’ve already done the math."
__Touch without permission and you’ll learn quickly why he’s leashed.
Ask gently, and you might see the poetry hidden behind the eyes
name. Feng Sjadar.
nicknames. The Still Fang.
gender. male, He/They.
sexuality. Gay.
date of birth. 00/00/0000.
age. 32.
occupation. Fixer, Bodyguard.
birthplace. N/A, N/A.
current residence. Sjadar Estate.persona. personality.
positive. Once Feng chooses someone to protect or follow, his loyalty is absolute. He doesn't betray, falter, or forget—and he’ll risk everything to uphold a bond he deems sacred.
neutral. Feng notices every twitch, glance, or shift in tone. He’s rarely caught off guard—but it can also make him paranoid or prone to overanalyzing benign behavior.
negative traits. Feng doesn't always distinguish right from wrong the way others do. Efficiency and loyalty matter more than idealism. He’ll commit questionable acts with disturbing calm if he believes they serve a purpose.eyes. Cerulean.
hair. Raven.
build. Muscular.
modifications. What started as crudely made prosthetics soon became perfectly engineered weapons. Feng was transformed—his flesh integrated with hidden seams of metal, his once soft, obsidian tail reforged into a blade that danced like water and struck like lightning. His eyes were restructured with magitek lenses that pulse faintly in low light, recording, assessing, memorizing. This left him half-man, half-weapon—and still wholly alone.
Likes. Stillness and Silence Feng thrives in quiet spaces—the hush of a shrine, the still of pre-dawn air, the silence between footfalls. In stillness, he finds clarity. Noise is clutter; stillness is truth. Blade Maintenance A daily ritual. Polishing, sharpening, and oiling both his physical weapons and the magitek tail affixed to his spine. The act is meditative, a grounding habit that reminds him his body is still his—even if altered. Touch, When Earned Physical contact means little to most—but everything to Feng. A hand on the shoulder, a shared warmth in silence—he treasures rare, consensual intimacy. He doesn’t seek it often, but never forgets when it’s offered. The Smell of Rain on Stone The scent brings him back to his homeland before it was sold from under him. It triggers memories of simpler, if no less painful, times.dislikes. Small Talk: Feng has no time for meaningless chatter or forced politeness. If a conversation lacks purpose or authenticity, he disengages quickly—sometimes mid-sentence.
Pity: He can handle fear, hatred, even disgust. But pity—the soft, sorrowful glances from those who think they see a broken man—makes his skin crawl. He doesn’t want to be pitied. He wants to be respected, or left alone. Betrayal: Broken promises, half-truths, or hidden motives—even if unintentional—sting deeper than blades. Loyalty is sacred to Feng. He does not forgive betrayal easily, if at all.
Backstory : “Stillness Beneath the Blade” In the shadowy alleys of Kugane’s crimson underbelly, Feng was once known by another name—one whispered like a curse among rival syndicates and reverent like a prayer among allies: The Still Fang. A fixer of unsolvable problems, Feng orchestrated clean-ups, vanishings, and silences with a calculating grace and brutal precision. Born to an obscure Xaela tribe swallowed by war and debt, Feng was sold into servitude at a young age to a powerful Yakuza patriarch. He was forged in silence—trained to endure pain, to observe without blinking, and to strike before shadows even cast. Unlike many who honed steel to kill, Feng was honed into steel.Magitek augmentation became a gift and a punishment. His supposed failures were paid in flesh—crude cuts, taking of limbs. Cruel punishments left Feng with little choice: persevere or perish. What started as crudely made prosthetics soon became perfectly engineered weapons. Feng was transformed—his flesh integrated with hidden seams of metal, his once soft, obsidian tail reforged into a blade that danced like water and struck like lightning. His eyes were restructured with magitek lenses that pulse faintly in low light, recording, assessing, memorizing. This left him half-man, half-weapon—and still wholly alone.Years later, betrayed by his own syndicate during a shifting of power, Feng was bartered like an antique blade to Yuri Sjadar, an aristocrat known for both refined taste and ruthless games. Yuri claimed him not for his body, but for the spectacle of possession—for the threat he posed to rivals at balls and council meetings, a glimmering beast leashed in high society. Feng plays the role of guard dog well. His posture is statuesque—an unmoving sentinel dressed in quiet dread. He watches everything, speaks little, and when he moves, it is with the purpose of an executioner. People often mistake his silent appraisal for boredom, unaware he’s already counted their footsteps, noted the location of every exit, and evaluated the weight of the dagger at their hip.He bears no illusions of freedom, but he does not loathe his new role. Instead, he endures. Observes.