Atia wears modest flowing dresses and robes. She wears scarves, but she does not fully cover her long brown hair.
Dihya’s last child was born four years before she would claim a great victory in battle over the invaders. Her mother named the child Sekkura, and the grandmother announced that she would follow in her mother’s footsteps. Years later, as Sekkura became a young woman, the tribe was attacked from the sea. Dihya fought alongside her soldiers and was cut down by the marauders. Her uncle and aunt took Dihya’s child and their own son to a nearby tribe seeking refuge. Sekkura grew tall and fair like her mother, but hatred grew within her for the marauders who destroyed the Zenata tribe.
Years stretched on, and Sekkura grew to become a leader within the tribe. She learned to predict weather, how to help children transition into the world, and how to say farewell as a member left the earth.
One morning, Sekkura awoke to screams from her village. Women and men called out to God and their ancestors; infants shrieked in confusion. The heat had not yet baked into the dirt beneath her feet, but she felt something different. The sky was dark, but cloudless. Her eyes drifted up, and she saw the moon begin to cover the sun. Darkness surrounded them.
“Peace. Our Father above is sending us a message, mothers and fathers. We will listen.”
Her eyes burned against the pain, but she looked up “I listen. Give me your vision.”
Searing pain was her response. A war. Death. Blood flowed over the dirt and stands. Cattle and people lay slaughtered, wasted completely in the senseless battles.
“Father. Tell me what we must do?” The pain was too much now, and her sight faded to nothingness.
Sekkura lost her sight the day the sun went away. The village discussed how to handle the visions, and what to do with a blind leader until well into the night. Torches flickered at the central tents, while men and women argued about how best to lay the path forward.
There were no footsteps, no beasts, but she knew a woman from another tribe approached. Sekkura smelled some unfamiliar incense. “Who are you?” She called out.
The scent stopped becoming stronger. It lingered just far enough that she could not hear breathing. The woman spoke with a heavy accent, “I am a guest. I seek shelter from the burning sun.”
Childe of Haraldsson
Childe of Gotsdam
Childe of Tiamat
Childe of Ventru
She was a ghoul for many centuries, but not to her sire.
Atia was once the Prince of Tangier.
While she was prince, she sacrificed Brujah in bloody rituals for power.
She was betrayed by her own clan.
She is extremely tall.
Her long hair is cursed. If it is cut, she will be as weak as a fledgling.