D'Jamila al-Mofty




Age: 57
Apparent Age: 19
Date of Birth: August 11, 1165
R.I.P.: May 5, 1184 (Euphrates)
Hair: black
Eyes: brown
Race: Arabic
Nationality: Abbasid Caliphate
Height: 5’7"
Weight: 130lb.
Sex: female

D’Jamila is usually covered from head to toe in a berka and veils, only leaving the eyes visible. She loves the mystery of it. In vampire society she barely wears clothing at all. She accustomed to men falling at her feet, especially after she has lured them in to feed her hedonistic appetite for pleasure and blood.


D’Jamila al-Mofty


D’Jamila was born into a wealthy and powerful family. Her father, Aaish ad-Mofty ibn Haaliza, a prominent scholar of the Abbasid Library “House of Wisdom” in Baghdad. D’Jamila’s Great Great Grandfather Nabeel ad-Raashid was part of the elite governors, sent by the Abbasid Caliph al-Mansur, who gave the city a higher status and poise. Her family would hold these powers throughout her mortal life and after her untimely death. She grew up in the center of many cultures, customs, and faiths, and her father was a well respected scholar. Her Grandfather and Great Grandfather were decorated war heroes in the Abbasid-Seljuq War of 1157. D’Jamila was educated very early in life. She began her study in Greek history, the Roman Empire, and exotic China at the age of 12. Baghdad was the most sophisticated and cosmopolitan city within the Arabic lands and D’Jamila had access to numerous translated books from all over the world. She fell in love with the romance novels of the French. She could have joined the Bayt al-Hikma but instead chose to work for the Arabic publishing business of her father’s. D’Jamila can speak and read Italian, French, and English (Multilingual Merit.) She has a talented tongue and loves to use it in various creative ways.
D’Jamila is a devout and proper young lady in appearance, but she is a virtuoso of deceit. Her insatiable desire for pleasure outshines all things, save her cruelty, especially towards men. She is no stranger to death and deception, but you won’t read it in her face.


At the tender age of 19, D’Jamila was an accomplished publisher and in her passtime she wrote poetry and fiction for fun. She also drank too much in private and slept with every male servant in her father’s household. Life in the strict household was much less boring with all the attention she was receiving .
D’Jamila was constantly trying to push the boundaries of her father’s stringent rules. She would leave and not come home for days, only to be unnoticed. Her rebellion wasn’t earning the scorn of her father, so she decided to visit a very well-to-do brothel in the city. It was the very same night that her father was entertaining a very attractive man from Castile. D’Jamila quickly disguised herself as one of the harlets and began to seduce this almost surreal specimen of a man. Ricardo was fierce and intoxicatingly attractive. D’Jamila didn’t know what it was about this man, but she knew that he would take her from this hell. She divulged every secret to this radiant man, without knowing why or how. She was so practiced at deceiving men. What was it about this one that was different? She felt so comfortable with him. She didn’t have a care in the world. Ricardo instructed her to go home, but he would see her later. D’Jamila felt something strange for this stranger—she loved him—maybe it was the wine he gave her.
She hurried home and dressed casually for indoors. She couldn’t wait to see this beautiful man again. Two nights passed without even a hint of where he was or if he was even coming to the house. The third night D’Jamila heard loud voices on the second story terrace that overlooked the Tigris. She recognized Ricardo’s voice and tried not to run to him. As she entered, her father introduced Ricardo to her. He also asked if she wanted to travel with him in order to increase his trade with the Kingdom of Sicily and spread his name across Europa. D’Jamila knew that she was being given to Ricardo as a gift to sweeten whatever deal he struck with this devastatingly attractive man. She agreed under one condition—she would be given a bank note that would establish her own household and holdings in the Kingdom of Sicily and she would never have to visit the Abbasid Caliphate ever again. Her father agreed without conflict and drew up the papers in front of her. D’Jamila knew something was wrong. Her father would never agree to make her independent. It wasn’t his way or any mans way in this place. She vowed to escape, if Ricardo would make her a slave or worse—she would gut him like a fish.
The next night, she was on a lavishly appointed boat that left no desire. She dined on fish and exotic vegetables, drank the most delicious Castillan wine, and languished in a bath that was big enough for six people. Ricardo only came to her before dawn to say how happy he was that I agreed to come with him, and he would explain his proposition to me the following night. This time he embraced D’Jamila and kissed her neck. It seemed as though she was in ecstacy for an entire day—she slept until the following night. Her senses were razor sharp and the shadows seemed to dance around her like a troupe of marionettes. She felt a hunger that was foreign and exhilarating. She wanted to taste more wine. She wanted to eat Ricardo like a roasted lamb. She felt his call, without hearing a sound, and she leapt out with preternatural speed. Ricardo held her in his arms. He brushed her hair back and kissed her neck again. He removed a jeweled dagger and cut his neck. D’Jamila was so close to the blood flowing out of him that she instinctually began to suck it from his neck. She felt her tongue brush over newly grown fangs that appeared in her mouth. It was surreal and intoxicating, and Ricardo was the only thing she could see or feel or taste…and that is the night she became a Child of the Darkness.


D'Jamila al-Mofty

Vampire the Dark Ages: Song of the Sanguine lordbaccus Darkness