|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Dec 06, 2005 8:38 am
  Being which the log a certain disgruntled personage.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 06, 2005 8:45 am
  ((As soon as he realizes the zombies have invaded, this shall be filled in. XD))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 06, 2005 8:58 am
  Name: Phib Hajir (Born Christoph Hajir)
Gender: Male
Age: 34
DOB: March 30th, 2017 [in Khuzestan]
Country of Origin: Iran
Country of Residence: Paris, France
Occupation: Foreign Delegate of France to Iran. (on the matters of HIRAD; an oil company stationed there.)
Maritial Status: Married; Ryoku Haijir (23)
Blood Type: O-
Distinguishing Features: Slight scar on nose, and rather massive one on chest. Mild brown skin.
Hair color: Black, usually cut sloppily and at a midlength.
Eye color: Green
Build: Fairly muscular
Good Attributes:
- Bilingual; Farsi (Native), French, English, and Arabic.
- Gun handling
- Common sense
Bad Attributes
- Stubborn
- Chain smoker/drinker
- Single minded
- Will probably waste more needed items then used.
- Absolutely CANNOT take directions for the life of him.
- Bad ties.
Biography
Born in Khuzestan, Iran, to Hrothmund and Nadia Hajir. At birth, there was a strong conflict between the parents as to the location the child was to be raised. Hrothmund intended for his son to be raised in their home country of Iran, despite his quasi buisnesship with the European nations. Nadia however, had not spent much time in the Middle Eastern country, despite her Persian descent, and decided she would not allow her son to grow up in Iran. Almost as soon as Phib was born, then named Christoph for show of Nadia's obvious western influences, she made plans to remove herself from the country with her child- with or without her husband. Unfortunately, Hrothmund wasn't about to let Nadia simply spirit away his son. And on grounds of kidnapping, he obtained custody of the child and the parents separated.
Renamed Phib, Phib grew up mostly in Iran, although was frequently abroad as a child. He did not attend school, and was privately tutored for most of his younger years in language and mathematics. In 2026 however, when Phib was nine, the Second Persian Gulf War began when Iraq invaded Iran, quickly forcing many of the old regime out of power. During the takeover, Phib recieved a gunshot wound to the upper chest, and Hrothmund left the country to France to have him treated.
Phib spent the rest of his years as a refugee in France, but later moved back down to Egypt to attend Cairo University. During his stay his father died of a heart condition, leaving a rather considerable estate to his young son. Phib returned to France to continue his business degree, and married another Persian woman, Khadda. Which lasted about two years, resulting in two sons, Gareth and Thallen. And unlike in his father's case, he was unable to obtain custody of the pair.
Deciding that he wasn?t too interested in business, Phib moved more to politics. Because of his familiarity with Iran and bilingual capabilities, he became the head foreign delegate of France for the Iranian oil company, HIRAD.
At a business convention, he met the young daughter of a French businessman named Ryoku, whom he later married. Until getting stuck in Europe- he had been residing in Paris, France.
About
Phib is a strong, level headed businessman. He likes things the way he feels they should be, and can be a bit arrogant at times. Admitting a mistake is almost impossible for him. Despite this, he is generally good hearted, whether he'd like to admit it or not, and once past his rigidly stern and duteous manner he is a loyal friend.
Now that the city of London has been locked down, he wants only to escape and ensure himself that these 'undead' are no where near France and his wife.
Hobbies
When Phib is not stalking corporations and killing zombies, he enjoys playing the violin, spending time with Ryoku, boozing, and riding horses. >O
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 06, 2005 9:00 am
Encounters of a Human Kind
- None yet
Encounters of a Zombie Kind
- None yet thankyouverymuch.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 06, 2005 9:02 am
( Will eventually contain any obtained items, and current 'point' count.)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 06, 2005 9:03 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 06, 2005 12:08 pm
Flashback- Phib leaves France.
The suitcase was packed, but it still wasn't satisfied. Everything was meticulously folded and squirreled away into tiny hollows, but still he wasn't pleased. He had two pairs of suits, not counting the one he would be wearing, five pairs of socks because she had said five was a good number when pertaining to socks, and four ties just incase he messed one of them up, slacks, - and his usual spiel of other clothing necessities. He'd also have along with him a razor, because he was starting to grow a beard if he didn't get to shaving, and of course, his phone- which wouldn't work anyways no matter how hard he attempted to press the buttons.
It was still dark in the well-to-do apartment flat, but his eyes were fairly adjusted to just the faint glow of the bathroom light across the hallway. He had dragged the case to the center of the leather couch in the bedroom and stood there staring at it with squinting eyes. He had a feeling he was forgetting something.
A look over at the clock alerted him that it was now four thirty in the morning, and his plane was due to leave at six. For a man that spent the majority of his life traveling, Phib had a peculiar dislike to flying. With a grumble, he stretched his hand downward, and quickly caught the end of the suit case lid, and zipped it close. There was a sliding belt strap that would have to be attached as well, but he became distracted by fixing the tie around his neck.
With the suitcase for the most part settled, he drifted to the next room where he kept his home office, and grazed the wall for the light switch. It flooded the hallway with light, so he shut the door to keep the most of it out the bedroom. Blinking blearily from the light, he was greeted at once with a low groaning meow, as a fat old black cat clambered down from the ottoman and across the Persian rug.
Phib gave the cat a glance, but drooped down to pat it lightly on the head. He was amused to find, that even in the morning, it was still the damndest ugly cat he'd ever seen. Ryoku had found it on the street, just as she did most things, limping around with one foot precariously gone and an eye dislocated. It had been utterly the most wretched thing ever, but after a couple of thousand dollars invested in vet bills and Ryoku's karma, the cat had been fixed up to a one eyed, three legged, and overly obese tom-cat. Even his purring seemed rather miserable, more like popping bubbles then any sort of pleasurable rumbling.
"Well, I'm not going to miss you." He gave the cat another pat on the head, which didn't seem to care, and demanded food. Phib swatted it slightly. "Go, get out of here Stumpy." His actual name, according to Ryoku, was "Phib Jr.", but with certain amount of dislike towards the name association, he'd renamed the cat "Stump."
The fat old cat shooed out of the office, yowling his complaints as he vanished into the hallway. Phib rose, and fixed his position as he crossed the room to grab his brief case from the desk. It was a mess, and he'd have to hire some sort of day assistant just to get through and organize all the paperwork. But for now it'd stay where it was- it wasn't like he was going to be stuck in London forever.
The reason for his trip to London was an unusual one. Apparently some British investors wanted some part HIRAD, the oil company for which he represented for France. But it was privately traded until recently- all this oil crisis had forced the company to go public about a month ago. Because the Iranian base was still unused to dealing with non-French investors, it wasn't likely that this would be a profitable meeting.
He picked up the suitcase, and switched the light off from the room. His eyes strained to readjust, and he opened the door to the bedroom with a swing.
Four-forty now, he'd better get moving. Diplomatic immunity could only help so much in the air ports these days, and with everyone thinking he had some sort of bomb in his briefcase, it didn't make traveling easier. As it was, he couldn't bring his handgun with him, despite his efforts to smuggle it with him on previous occasions.
As he fumbled about, moving his suitcase to the corner of the couch and laying his briefcase beside it, a soft but muffled voice fluttered from beneath the mass of bed sheets- "Do you have your plane ticket?..."
"Of course I have my plane ticket." He mumbled, and started to fumble about his suit pockets. When none of them revealed the ticket, he started to grope at the fabric and check again.
"I put it in the desk." Mumbled the voice in French.
He didn't say anything, but crossed the room to the small side desk, and pulled open the drawer. After some shuffling of papers, the ticket was revealed from the bottom of the desk. "Ah." He remarked, grabbed the ticket, and shoved it into his jacket pocket.
"You're going to be late." The voice squeaked again, but this time, the bed sheets shifted, and a small pale body popped out the top portion, and curled forward to raise her knees to her chest.
"I'm not going to be late." He remarked in French, and put on a pair of gloves. It had been snowing outside last time he looked.
Ryoku smiled, looking hauntingly white in the dark room. She curled, and pulled the sheets around her head.
As he pulled on the second glove, buttoning the small buttons at the cuff, he remarked again- "What time will you be leaving?"
Ryoku smiled softly, and rubbed her eyes. "I thought you were leaving."
"I decided to send you to Britain." He retorted in English, and then back to French as Ryoku had miserable English- "No- When will you leave for Feira's?"
She shifted, her almost pale white hair sliding across her face as she fumbled with her lip. "Um- Seven I think is when the best train is. I'll probably get to Marseille in about four hours or so."
"I'll be in by then, so I'll call you." He nodded. His frequent traveling was not foreign to either of them- Ryoku typically left Paris to go to Marseille whenever he left town to visit friends.
Ryoku smiled, and nodded. "Yea, that is good."
He nodded, and moved to grab his suitcase.
"Phib?" She squeaked.
"Yes?" He questioned, turning his head to look over at her from the bed. She really was pale, not that this was new to him. It was just in that light...
"You'll be careful, right?"
"Be careful of what?" He chuckled, and fumbled for a cigarette in his pocket.
"I don't know. Traveling. That sort of thing. Crazy people blowing stuff up and making you wait in line..." She continued off on a long list, but he was only able to hear the first half.
He moved from the corner of the room, over to where she sat on the bed, and leaned on it. "There's nothing to worry about."
Ryoku blinked those slightly dumb blue eyes, and smiled. "Yeah- I know." She patted him gently on the cheek. "But no one will ever feed Stumpy if you don't be careful you know. I forget him sometimes, and he gets very angry-"
He shushed her by biting her finger slightly. It wasn't more then a n**, and she stopped to give him a slight tap on the face. "Ugh." She spoke in a pout. He rose, gave her a quick kiss, and was off to collecting his stuff.
He stopped at the door when he heard her saying his name again.
"You will be careful though, right?" Came her voice from the darkness.
"I'll much rather worry about you." He remarked, and twisted the door handle.
Ryoku smiled, and pulled the covers over her head. "I know. Good luck."
He gave her a slight smile, nodded, and with that was out the door.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
