From SuspireWiki

Description

Zafir is a tall Middle Eastern man with an aristocratic air about him. His jet-black hair is kept in a curly ponytail, letting a few strands hang before his face. His features are strong and a bit sharp. He wears (in public) almost entirely fashionable suits, though with a decidedly foreign taste to them. Often he wears Turkish or Syrian suits (with longer sleeves and tails than Western suits). He always seems to be well-kept and proper. He never speaks loudly, yet can always be quite clearly heard. His presence is one of passing interest, though, if one were to analyze him, they would find he is exceptionally composed and calm. He seems always together and confident, though not arrogant. It can be easily seen that he is a man of great balance. He speaks impeccable English with an aristocratic British accent.

Background

Al-Zafir Mohammed Muhat was born outside of Buraq, a city in the outlying regions of Damascus, in 1919. Zafir was a quiet boy in a very loud time. The world had only just ended the most devastating war ever fought. Though death and destruction had only just ceased, it seemed the Middle East had not yet had enough. Zafir was a simple, amiable child. He enjoyed love, life, and most of all: learning. He had a passion for knowing things. He did exceptionally well in school, devouring every book and scroll he could get his hands on. He wrote poems while tending to his father's livestock. He invented songs and chants while he and the other village boys drew water from the well. And, for a time, the world was silent. Things stood still, and Zafir was content in his youth.

As he began to grow into a young man, Zafir's father began to grow increasingly authoritarian. Always a little draconian, his father had become convinced that a new war was imminent. One week he was cursing Egyptians. The next he was profaning the Iraqis. There was always some malicious word on his tongue about some impending invaders. Though the invaders never came (save for a few wandering bandits), his warmongering increased. He called it "Allah's Divine Will" that Syrian land be kept free of outsiders. Naturally, Zafir wanted nothing to do with this. He'd never been more than 20 miles outside of his village. He scarcely had any idea of what war meant (besides classic childish fantasies).

Unfortunately, his father forced him to find out. Despite Zafir's and Zafir's mother's protests, he was shipped off and enlisted in the military. It almost totally traumatized him. This sweet, innocent boy was suddenly cast into a world of strict discipline, grueling exertion, and bloody killing. There were many nights he cried softly to sleep against his pillow in the barracks. But enough molding and grooming can change the ways of almost any man, and after years of military instruction, Zafir became a respectable soldier. In fact, during the years leading up to the Second Great War, Zafir showed such prowess in combat that he was accepted into the Arab Legion, an elite army of multiple Arab nations.

It was during this brief interlude between his greatest achievement and his greatest downfall that tragedy struck Zafir for the first real time. Though Arab culture was quite centered on male dominance, Zafir had always considered women to be, at least, only slightly below men. The kindness of his mother and the cunning of his sisters (during childhood games) had done much to prevent the roots of sexism in his character. In fact, even through his training, Zafir had kept close to his sisters, writing them often. It was shortly after he was accepted into the Arab Legion that he received word that his sister had been brutally raped and murdered. He returned home swiftly to bury his sister, comfort his mother, and exact bloody revenge on the one who had violated his loved one. Within days, Zafir had tracked down and murdered his sister's rapist with his bare hands...quite easily. It both thrilled and disturbed him to realize what an efficient killer he had become. He returned to his unit, but got clearance to attend a British college in Damascus, where he learned English and earned a bachelor's in Management with a minor in British Literature.

Then the war came. For years, Zafir watched as war raged across the world, but the action did not come. The Second World War was many times as devastating as the First. The entire globe cried out in agony as entire cities were leveled. Finally, the war came to Zafir. Syria had sided with the Axis forces, and Zafir, as part of the Arab Legion, followed his orders into battle against the British and French with little question. In a word, it was hell. War was nothing like what he had expected it to be, and without his efficiency at killing, his knack for staying alive, and a lot of luck, Zafir would have surely perished in the desert. Though the Allies payed dearly for it, the Arab Legion was defeated multiple times. Zafir spent the last year of the war in military prison.

After WWII came to a close, Zafir and his comrades were released. For his accomplishments on the battlefield, and because the Arab Legion's ranks were so thin, Zafir was promoted to an officer. Almost 3 years later in 1948, Zafir had earned a place as one of the Arab Legion's top lieutenants, and he excelled at this even more than actual combat. The quiet, scholarly boy had been erased; what remained was a strong, talented leader. Inspiring, leading, and generally allocating tasks efficiently came entirely naturally to Zafir. The men under him respected and admired him, and he was well-known for settling disputes amongst soldiers.

Then war came again. The UN had ordered that the nation of Israel be re-established in its ancient homeland...which was currently owned and occupied by the Palestinians. When the Westerners came, aided by British, French, and American mercenaries, the Arab Legion was waiting for them. The fighting was intense, but after much bloodshed, the Arab Legion managed to capture Old Jerusalem. The Jewish defenders surrendered, and were ordered outside. They complied. Somehow, things got screwed up. To this day, Zafir still cannot remember what transpired correctly. Someone started shooting, and then so did everyone else...so did he. It was one of those mass-hysteria events that everyone later sees a mistake, but no one can deny was inevitable. This later became known as the Kfar Etzion Massacre. It haunts Zafir's conscience and dreams to this night.

But eventually the war ended and Zafir once again found himself without a purpose. His troop was reassigned to Jordan. Though lauded for his achievements and ability as a leader, Zafir was never able to shake the horror of what he had done in Old Jerusalem. He took to drinking (not an easy thing to do in a predominantly Muslim culture), and lost himself for a while. He deserted the Arab Legion and spent a few years bumming around the Syrian desert. Eventually, he drank a little too much and collapsed somewhere in the desert, certain to meet his end.

However, a nomadic Bron had been keeping tabs on Zafir for the past few years. His name was Walter Raleigh, and he had come to the Middle East in search of the Holy Grail. He had hoped that the war between the Jewish and Palestinians was an event that spoke of great spiritual turmoil. He felt certain that the war would somehow reveal the secret of the Grail. He'd been watching Zafir as a potential childe. Bron are known for Embracing those they fancy as modern nights, and though Raleigh had been disappointed by the massacre, he was thoroughly impressed with Zafir's leadership ability. To save his life, Raleigh embraced Zafir there below the cold Syrian moon.

Thus began Zafir's nomadic existence as a fledgling. Raleigh taught him everything he needed to know, even the curse that had come with their blood. They wandered the Middle East almost aimlessly; Raleigh was consumed with his quest for the Grail, and certain that the Arab-Israeli War was somehow the key. Raleigh never told Zafir that a Kindred world existed. He made Zafir believe that vampires were few and far between to ensure a stable, obedient servant. Eventually, after almost two decades, Raleigh pushed his luck a little too far. He came to Damascus, by then almost insane with his hunt for the Grail. He pissed off too many people (particularly the prince) and was killed in a scuffle. Zafir, seeing that his sire had lied to him about the extreme rarity of vampire's, begged to be spared and allowed a chance to explain. The Prince had pity on him.

He was accepted into Damascus' society. Upon hearing he was Bron, the Lancea Sanctum and Crone in the city instantly made plays to recruit him. After wrestling with their temptations (and threats) for a long while, Zafir decided to forsake spirituality in favor of intellectualism. He joined the city's most prominent covenant, the Ordo Dracul. A few years past and he studied hard, hoping to master the Coils of the Dragon to find some way to overcome his curse. He behaved himself and eventually earned favor in the eyes of Saidah Wisal Munah, the only female Kindred of any official status in the city. Saidah had labored long to secure a position as one of Damascus' two regencies. She took the young and now scholarly Zafir under his wing, grooming him as a leader of Kindred. She prevented him from being used or killed by those who wished to do so...and in turn asked for a (incomplete) blood bond. A few short years past where Zafir was content. Free from struggles, he was able to pursue his studies nightly without worry.

Political efforts in the realm of the Kindred were not Zafir's only worry. He used his degree in Management and his experience in the realm of weapons to secure a position as one of the top executives in a weapon manufacturing company in Damascus. The Middle East has never truly seen peace in the last century, and Zafir was able to use the constant conflict to expand on his business (and wallet). Consistently wheeling and dealing on the side, Zafir managed to spread the company's influence throughout the Middle East, earning himself a sizeable chunk of the profits in the process.

As it always does, however, conflict found Zafir. The city's second regent, Imad Jabir Zarqawi, started a feud with Saidah. Pressed for any elders she could trust, she made Zafir her Seneschal and Herald. Damascus, being a large, old city, contained many Kindred. Therefore, it was not altogether unheard of for Kindred to die. The Reeve, a strange Gangrel by the name of Ferran "Silvertongue" Raghib, could not handle everything. So the feud raged between the two regencies. For decades, Zafir struggled (mostly politically) against Imad's cadre. He found himself adept at political maneuvers, and while he was not successful in winning the feud (as Imad's regency was far more powerful than Saidah's), he was able to keep Saidah afloat and in good position with the Prince.

The feud has lasted two decades, and Zafir wearied of the fighting. So he found himself an out. Having spent many years at her side, Zafir knew how motherly and (when the situation allowed it) lenient Saidah could be. Zafir set out to sire a childe. He searched for more than a year before he found a promising match. A young, beautiful girl by the name of Hamilah caught his eye. The girl came from a rich family who were making plans in Damascus to marry her off (see Hamilah's background for more details). She had a way of enchanting him. She displayed a social grace, a flair for charm, and an unspoiled innocence that lured even the darkest parts of Zafir to her. He had found his childe.

Always one for finesse, Zafir slipped into her chambers the night before the wedding unnoticed. Using his powers as a Ventrue to lull her into a trance, he implanted a command within her mind. That night, she (under his influence) snuck from her quarters and stole away down to the street...where Zafir was waiting in his car. He snatched her, and, after mesmerizing her once more to abash her fears, drove off. Zafir embraced Halimah that night, still while she was barely coherent.

Halimah was understandably upset about the whole thing. Zafir told her what he had made her and enough to calm her down, but other than that, he kept her in the dark. For the next 3 weeks, he kept her secluded in his apartment while he took care of the proper arrangements. He spoke with Saidah, convincing her that it was not safe to raise a childe in Damascus as a man of his position while Imad's assassins were abound. She (very) reluctantly agreed, and, after making the proper arrangements, they were ready to make the move to Atlanta. During this time, Halimah seemed very skittish and meek, though obedient. He showed her how to hunt from animals (for she was too meek to take from humans), and comforted her as much as he needed to to keep her from doing anything rash.

The time came, and Zafir left with his childe for Kingston, England. Having been exposed to but never inundated in British culture, Zafir figured Britain would be the easiest place to fit in. He hoped moving to Kingston, a city dwarfed by the sprawling nearby London, would attract less attention than residing in one of the more major cities. He made peace with the local Prince and, though he had to endure suspicion due to mild xenophobia, he worked hard to establish a mild, quiet existence there. He kept his head down and took the opportunity to study more of British Dragon knowledge (though that was limited, due to even the local Ordo Dracul chapter distancing themselves from the newcomer) and read up on as much Holy Grail lore as he could get his hands on. To his later regret, he did not spend as much time with Halimah as he should have. They stayed in Kingston for three years, and it was only the latter half of the third that he realized he was treating her exactly as his sire had treated him: simply as a tool and not as a person in his own right. Thus, for a few weeks, he began to make up for his oversight. He taught her the basics of clans and covenants, explained why and how they had come to flee from Damascus, and worked to earn his trust as her sire. Unfortunately, this was interrupted. Imad's assassins eventually tracked down Zafir. He narrowly escaped two attempts on his life, and became visciously protective of Halimah. The Prince, infuriated that the "alien" had brought such trouble to his city, ordered the lot of them be bloodhunted. Zafir was able to narrowly escape on a plane to America.

His options limited and his time pressed, Zafir was forced to make a difficult decision on the next place they would reside. He ruled out the most famous cities like New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles, knowing that these would be the first places Imad would look for him. At first, he considered Florida, since so many stories of the Fountain of Youth (which Zafir is convinced is connected with the Holy Grail) tell of the relic there. However, he realized that this too was predictable. Imad knew of his Bron blood. He was still set on the South, since tales (and folk tales) of everlasting youth seemed to be concentrated there more than anywhere else in the country. After much thought, he settled on Atlanta. He had heard reports of a great Dragon scholar living in the city. Atlanta's extended reputation as being a center of commerce and trade attracted him; money is often exchanged with information. On a less practical level, he admired the city's mascot of the Phoenix. The Fire Bird had found immortality in Atlanta. Zafir hoped to find the same.

In recent years, Zafir has become enthralled with the rock music genre (mostly to distract from the constant pressures). He plays the guitar fairly well.