
The Lore of Drac
Born under the waning full moon in the mist-shrouded city of Kastoria on 10/04, nestled between the brooding waters of Lake Orestiada and the rugged Pindus Mountains, Pantelis Tomopoulos was destined for the extraordinary. In the late 16th century, as the Ottoman Empire tightened its grip on the region, whispers of peculiar happenings began to circulate among the townsfolk. Pantelis, the enigmatic son of a fur merchant, was said to possess eyes that shimmered like obsidian and a voice that could charm even the most resolute soul.
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​​​​​​​​​​​But it was his disappearance during the brutal winter of 1598 that cemented his legend. The story goes that Pantelis ventured deep into the ancient forests surrounding the lake, lured by the ethereal melody of a nocturnal hymn. Days turned to weeks, and his return was heralded by a blood-red dawn over Kastoria. Pantelis emerged unscathed, yet different—a man whose vitality seemed untouched by the passage of time.
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Over the centuries, as wars raged and empires fell, Pantelis slipped through the shadows of history. Unbound by mortality, he became a master of reinvention, adopting countless identities across Europe and beyond. His knowledge of the arcane arts and an uncanny ability to adapt kept his true nature hidden, even as he fed on the lifeblood of the living.
In the mid-20th century, drawn by the pulse of modernity and anonymity, Pantelis chose to make his home in the labyrinthine streets of New York City. Here, among the skyscrapers and restless crowds, he thrives as an enigmatic artist. He is known as Drac, the reclusive singer and songwriter whose wealth and influence are as mysterious as his past.
Though centuries have dulled the edges of his Kastorian accent, Drac often finds himself longing for the quiet waters of Lake Orestiada. In his hidden sanctum he keeps a single relic from his mortal days: a silver icon from Kastoria’s Byzantine era, tarnished but still gleaming.​
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By night, Drac roams the city’s dark alleys and exclusive clubs, an immortal predator seeking both sustenance and solace. Yet, in his endless existence, he remains haunted by the melody that first called him into the night—a melody that whispers to him still, reminding him of the price of eternity.


