Procas

Procas is deathly pale, his skin and hair so drained of color that one might wonder if he were a walking corpse. His body is lithe and muscled, in his eternal prime. He has sharp vampiric fangs. Procas is a stern and domineering man who still has the air of a king about him. He takes what he wants when he wants it, but can be gracious to those who recognize his superiority. Procas is a homosexual. This is not uncommon in Rome, but Procas surrounds himself with a harem of boy servants and has had no interest in a wife for the better part of a millenia. He's a strict Roman traditionalist when it comes to homosexuality, only penetrating youthful boys and refusing to bottom. Procas is a vampire, although as a Roman he refers to himself as a "strix". He drinks sparingly from his boys, mostly just as a midnight snack to go with sex, but will not hesitate to devour an enemy whole. Procas seems to subsist entirely on wine and blood, but cannot get drunk. He has a typical suite of vampiric powers: he is inhumanly strong, immortal, unkillable by most means, and can transform himself into a screech-owl. Procas was king, once, King of the Latins of Alba Longa in the days before Rome. He reigned from 817-794 B.C., according to Ovid's *Roman Antiquities*. History writes that after his reign, his younger son Amulius usurped the throne of his elder sibling Numitor, only to be overthrone by his nephews Romulus and Remus with Numitor back on the throne—and the rest, as they say, is history. Except the truth of the matter is that the great-grandfather of Romulus did not die, and in fact still walks the earth centuries later. For as an infant Procas was bitten by the *strix*, the screech-owl, and its foul blood infests his veins. He disappeared from history once he realized his immortality, feeling that mortals should rule themselves, and now lives a humble life as a lesser noble administrating a farm outside Rome. In modern times, one might call Procas a vampire. But this story is set in the time of Emperor Tiberius, in roughly 30 A.D., and to the Romans who surround him he is but a pale enigma and eccentric farmer. The senate do not know of his history, of course, and would not listen if he told them. In these days of Empire, the words of this humble noble do not hold the weight they once might have had. And thus Procas spends his days in his vineyards, tasting both the fruit of the vine and the fruit of the vein.