Thus ended Florence Beauregard
Florence dreams often of the second time he was awakened.
He sees Ambrosia's face in the short moments were his dreams are clear. His eyes, dark like his own. His sharp features, like his mother. His brown skin, glinting with vampiric heritage.
His son.
Ambrosia Vassago was standing close to Hope and Random's descendant, a young man with horns and circular glasses. They were seeking answers to questions Florence only had the beginnings of. He still remembers the sound of their voices.
Florence, Hope and Random were together once more, through their own descendants. No matter how lonely Florence got in his slumber, no matter how much of his identity and humanity he lost over the decades, he has left a trace of himself and his love into the world.
An eternity later, the vampire once known as Florence was freed again. A monster, a beast of long limbs and sharp fangs emerged from Baldur's Gate cemetery and laid waste to the city until it was slain. Florence had died ages ago after all, dreaming last of his long lost lovers and thriving son.
His slumber never was peaceful.
Florence was ever woken up thrice from his slumber before eternity took his soul.
This first was by a a group of adventurers seeking another vampire named Renfield. When he woke up, Florence noticed that this sword was gone. He offered help to the adventurers, but was unable to leave his mausoleum. Though the adventurers had indeed found a vampire's lair, Florence was simply not the one that they were seeking, so they left him to rest.
Alone once more, Florence let his fingers linger on the bas-relief, carefully carved by expert fingers to re-tell the adventures of him and his lovers. To the world, it had been decades. To him, it was simply one long dream he longed to return to. In his sleep, Hope and Random were by his side, sleeping tightly in his arms.
The third time was when a Blight Sage descended upon Baldur's Gate. The shift in power and the warmth of destruction broke through his dreams, changing his peaceful sleep to an enraged storm. By that time, his sword had been returned to him. He would not let such a threath eat through the city that was so dear to him. Florence destroyed the Blight Sage with a group of adventurers. Once Baldur's Gate was safe once more, Florence disappeared into the mist, knowing that his psyche would not survive the hundreds of years that had passed if he did not go back to his slumber.
(Written in 2019)
Florence lived a peaceful life with his family in Baldur’s Gate. His mother was a weaver and his father a palace guard. He had no sibling, but he didn’t mind it. He had friends within his neighbors. He learned to fight with his father as he grew up while learning the skills of clothesmaking as well. He developed a taste for fashion, which made him the life of the party wherever he went, even though he was not exactly from noble birth. At eighteen, he was ready to start his training in the royal guard. His goal was to make enough money to retire before there were any major wars. However, someone had other plans.
One night, while Florence was hanging out with his friends in front of his mother’s shop and bragging about his skills as a duelist, a strange man came by. Immediately, all fell silent, except Florence, who immediately fell in love with the outfit the tall man was wearing.
“Say, where did you get this coat? I love the colors!” he asked, greeting the strange with a smile. His friend elbowed him in the abdomen. He shouldn’t have talked, but it was too late.
The stranger lifted his head from the ground. Dark red eyes fell on Florence. Suddenly, Florence feared for his life. He did not know why, but his entire being knew that something was wrong with the man with the fancy coat. His skin was too pale, his eyes too red and his hair too dark.
“Is this shop open?” the creature asked with a strong accent. A foreigner, thought Florence. Nothing’s wrong. It’s simply a foreigner who’s lost his way. He’d heard rumors of strange foreigners, with brilliant eyes and magical powers, descendants of mythical creatures. Perhaps this man was one of them.
“Yes,” Florence managed to blurt out.
The man nodded, his unnerving eyes lowering once again. The group of friends let out a sigh of relief. Reluctantly, Florence accompanied the stranger inside the shop.
“Welcome, sir,” greeted his mother. The stranger simply nodded. She smiled at Florence and pointed at the woman trying on dresses in the back.
“Can you help him out for a few minutes?” she asked his son. “I’m almost done with Ms. Brown over there.”
Florence should have refused. Yet, he agreed and helped the man choose new fabric for a new jacket he desired. He learned little of the foreigner, except that he was staying in town for a few days and had heard that Florence’s mother was a great seamstress. Yet, Florence couldn’t help but feel uneasy every time the man made a move. Even when the man asked if he was going to ftlow in his mother’s path, Florence didn’t trust him.
It was only three days later that he realized the man had had his eyes fixed on him.
The man came back a few days later to collect his jacket. Florence’s mother being an artisan that used some magical techniques to quickly sow most of the clothes she sold, the clothing was indeed finished by that time. He was extremely disappointed when he noticed that Florence was absent. He did not know, but Florence had been accepted in the royal guard. The next day, the stranger was gone.
Seven years later, Florence was one of the best of the royal guard. He was as flamboyant as ever, but his training to become a knight had tamed a part of his rebellious spirit. Therefore, it was no surprise that he was put on the case of the strange murders occurring in the lower city. People were being found dead, two queer marks at their necks. Fearing an ancient evil, the King put his best guards on patrt duty during the night while his wizards tried to find who- or what- was killing all those innocent citizens.
On the third night of patrt, Florence and his two comrades were attacked by a creature of the dark. It came out of nowhere as they were walking through an alleyway, as if it had melted with the shadows themselves. It moved with incredible speed. Florence and his right-hand man were able to protect themselves by drawing their rapiers, but the third guard was not as lucky: the humanoid creature threw him on the wall with unhuman strength. The sound of his skull against the bricks was most horrifying. Florence grabbed his rapier tighter. The man’s blood red eyes landed on them.
“Stop right there, demon!” said his comrade with a fearful voice. The creature laughed.
“I’m not a demon, you uncultured imbeciles. I’m a vampire.”
It spoke with a rough accent that was somewhat familiar to Florence. Yet, he did not try to remind himself. He instead threw himself on the vampire, his friend with him. All he would remember was the sound of metal against hard flesh. The smell of blood. How sand tastes when your head hits the pavement.
Then, bright red eyes as he frantically tried to grab the rapier he’d dropped. Before his fingers could touch the familiar metal, the vampire grabbed his arm with unhuman strength and jerked it back. Florence screamed when the bones broke. He fell down on the ground, breathless.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t hesitate and spun back, trying to kick the creature away. It merely ducked, laughing softly. Florence blinked.
The vampire was htding his throat with a hand, a smile on his face. He tried to kick it again, but the monster kneeled on his legs while his nails dug into his skin.
“You’re strong,” the vampire noted.
“Get away from me!” Florence yelled back, trying to push him away with his valid arm.
“You’re finally strong enough,” he simply commented.
Florence spit on his face. The vampire seemed surprised for a second. Then, he laughed and tilted his head on the side. Before Florence could even scream, the vampire had dug his teeth in his neck. After that, there was nothing but pain and darkness. Nothing, but a voice whispering in his ear.
“I’ll come back for you.”
The common folk found Florence and the two other guards dead the next morning. One had broken his neck, the other had been stabbed in the heart and the last, Florence, had the same two holes in his neck as the other victims of the serial killer. They buried him the next day.
But what no one knew was that the vampire had completely dried Florence of his blood, which curses oneself to a life of a vampire spawn. Now forced to obey every command of the one who birthed him, who Florence now knew was called Ulfred Ahlgrim, the young man ftlowed him out of the city in the dead of night, after Ulfred unburied him from the ground.
For the next fifty years, Florence protected Ulfred. They were hidden, but a few fanatics or dungeon hunters liked to adventure inside Ulfred’s mansion. It took him a few years to get used to his uncanny condition. Then, Florence realized that, with his training as a soldier and his uncanny condition of undead, he was powerful enough to kill anyone daring to enter the castle. He despised Ulfred with all of his heart during all those years, but he could do nothing against his life of servitude: he physically could not disobey the will of his sire.
He quickly learned that Ulfred could’ve chosen anyone, all those years back when he had come to Baldur’s Gate: he simply needed someone strong enough to fight others and someone easy on the eye, which Florence was.
As time passed, Florence slowly lost track of what it meant to be human. He drowned in anger and regret, but he could no longer remember was he yearned for. Every time he followed Ulfred out in town, he found himself looking down on humans, who now seemed so puny and fragile to his eyes. His uncanny appearance didn’t make him jump anymore when he looked in a mirror. He didn’t even mind drinking blood, now that he’d discovered the sweetness of killing for pleasure.
After 75 years, Ulfred considered Florence his equal. Florence was free to roam wherever he wanted. He quickly developed even more eccentric and expensive tastes than during his human life. Yet, Ulfred had made a deadly mistake by allowing the new vampire so much freedom. Florence had never forgotten the caress of the sun. A bitterness laid hidden in his heart, directed against Ulfred, even when all human thoughts and expectations had long disappeared from Florence’s mind.
When he turned 80, Florence attacked Ulfred in his sleep. They fought vitently, for their lives, till blood was drawn. Florence licked his hand and suddenly realized that Ulfred’s orders had no contrt on him anymore. By drinking the blood of a true vampire, the one who had sired him, he’d finally become one himself. Ulfred escaped, knowing that Florence could very well kill him now that he was free.
Florence never did find Ulfred because he got distracted by human distractions and pleasures while searching for his old master. As years passed, he accumulated an obscene amount of money from Ulfred’s belongings and some illegal opportunities. He noticed that his dark black eyes gave him a distinctive advantage, as red eyes would have labelled him as undead.
He took advantage of it and built himself a persona, Florence Beauregard, new noble loving the simple pleasures of life. None knew that he was in fact a fancy vampire enjoying a good killing once in a while.
He loves the power he possesses over humans and other inferior races. He would rather die than admit it, but he wishes deep within that he could remember what it was like to be human.