Furious Scribe
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22. Curly - Guests
🕑 Added 2025-07-13 00:21:59 +0000 UTC
Chapter 22
Guests
The vampires knew how to set the stage for a party, Curly would give them that. The drapes and carpet had all been replaced, the new set a rich maroon with tasteful, gold-threaded edges. A summoned arachnid creature had woven webs to and from the rafters, the gossamer material shining like silver during the day, but when candles were lit, shifted to a shimmering gold that unified the space from floors, walls, to ceiling. The room itself had been cleaned within an inch of its life, including every piece of furniture, from the smallest iron-wrought mirror to the fluted candelabra overhead, and then arranged just so. Curly wouldn’t have expected vampires to be a fastidious people, and perhaps it was just the influence of her summoner Alexi on the whole affair, but whatever it was, the setup for the jubilee was just as ordered and detail-driven as any human gathering her fractured memories could piece together.
The balcony doors had been thrown wide, and a group of sunken-faced wights with aged instruments that seemed to have too many strings or tubes had clambered by, setting up outside. They ended up being quite good, the tunes they played an infectious mix of eerie notes in an otherwise jaunty arrangement, leading Curly to suppose that time and expertise truly were great bedfellows.
All in all, once the party was in full swing, if she hadn’t already known otherwise, she would have never realized that there was a war happening outside, which seemed to her both wonderful and terrible.
Inside, guests milled about, most from the Death faction from what she could tell, with their dark clothing and pallid features. A handful were vampires, all of whom she had met by now, from Sivkanu, the albino nüwani, to Fay who pranced around in the body of an eleven-year-old girl. There were plenty of wights besides those making music, speaking to each other in their raspy voices, and a number of humans wearing hooded cloaks, who she heard referred to as necromancers. Traitors, Curly thought as she served them finger food. Betrayers to their heritage. For traitors, they seemed to be having a good enough time, one fellow in particular who had his hood down, revealing a pleasant face, and followed by a gaggle of younger necromancers he kept pointing things out to.
There was another man, however, who did match her expectations: a sour-lipped necromancer with skin nearly as parchment thin as the wights. He wore much finer black clothing than the others, surely a mark of importance, and carried a book with a strange cover. So far this evening, he had spent much of his time on the edges of the party, speaking with one of the few demons in attendance, a yellow skinned creature with a skull that extended twice as far out the back as it should have.
For all the mixed company present, Curly hadn’t spotted a single orc, but she also hadn’t expected to, not when the common word was that the lot of them were still shunning the city. Who she really hoped to see was Felstrife, with Basil in tow. She had gotten Alexi to promise to invite the lich after some cajoling, but the Countess and her entourage had yet to arrive, assuming they even would.
Twins, please, she prayed, lowering her tray so Fay could pluck a cream puff filled with blood off of it, let me see him again.
Alexi had welcomed each arrival with warmth and fanfare, his clothing for the evening a bright red suit that unabashedly sparkled from all the tiny gems woven into the fabric. It seemed he knew everyone and could coax good cheer from all but the most dour of visitors, such as the elderly necromancer. Now, though, her summoner was resting himself, lying against Stafford while a pair of vampires played a duel against one another – the type where the cards were laid upon a table instead of summoned into existence. She had spotty recollection of engaging in such games herself, but could only remember the board in front of her, not the setting.
The vampires called it “Pauper”, limiting themselves to mostly Common and Uncommon cards with only a few Rares thrown in. The summons were from a wide mix of Source types, which led Curly to believe that the cards had been won in battle over the years and a few old blood stains on them supported that theory; these weren’t cards someone was keeping in their Mind Home, but instead something trotted out to pass the hours, which struck her as deeply irreverent.
Having little else to do besides hand out food – the same task given to a few of Alexi’s other Souls – and watch for Basil, Curly found herself drawn to the dueling more often than once despite disliking what it represented.
Stafford was using an Order deck and had already bested a bookish vampire named Dalila with it. The center of his offense was one of his few Rares, which he used to flood the board.
For some reason, the names and images of these cards made her think of Basil, but she couldn’t fathom why. Had he favored such summons? she wondered, knowing there was no answer waiting for her.
Sivkanu was Stafford’s next opponent, and the snake-man was using an eclectic mix of Water and Fae cards. Curly didn’t think she had ever seen the latter type, but that hardly stopped her from assessing their utility when she passed by.
Summoned Skeletons standing beside the table were dutifully tracking the amount of Source and health each duelist had, so a quick look at the number of fingers raised gave Curly all the remaining information she required: Stafford had 10 health to Sivkanu’s 4, but Stafford was out of Source while Sivkanu was full up.
The nüwani, however, seemed at a loss for how to proceed, and Stafford was playing with a bored air, his attention drifting around the room, which she noticed Alexi looked concerned about, though she had no idea why. With a sigh, Sivkanu gripped his Frost Mage as if to play it, which would have been a disastrous move, giving Curly no choice but to intercede.
“I believe you'll find these cards suit your situation better,” she told him, pointing over his shoulder to the Lancer and Seeing Double Spell.
Sivkanu didn’t act bothered by her comment, but he did shake his pointed head. “Not enough damage.”
“It is if you pair it with this, then this,” she said, indicating the Fungal Fumes followed by Shatter. “After all, you’ll have to Devote to attack.”
The snake-creature looked between her and the cards and then hissed in delight. Just as she had suggested, he played the Lancer and then Seeing Double to gain a second copy of the 4/1. Then, he attacked with both, the pair able to strike Stafford directly due to their Flying ability. Next, the nüwani cast Fungal Fumes, so that when the copy of the Lancer was Destroyed by Expire at the end of the turn, Stafford would take another point of damage. And finally, to take care of that 10th point of life, Sivkanu used Shatter on his own Lancer, Destroying it since it was in a Devoted position from attacking the first turn it had been summoned.
The hulking vampire took the loss with a raised eyebrow, nodding to Sivkanu and then her, acknowledging her contribution, before turning to Alexi. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Some punch would be divine, along with a bit of that blood pudding you made.”
Stafford kissed Alexi on the forehead and then excused himself, Sivkanu following after, chattering about the end of the duel. The larger vampire humored his reptilian brethren, the pair entering the heart of the party together, leaving just her and her summoner by the table along with the Skeletons and cards.
It wasn’t even a particularly clever combo, she thought to herself, looking back over the discarded Spells and Souls. But she had seen it all in a moment, the calculations coming naturally to her. Not to mention the satisfaction of watching the pieces fit together just as she had planned. Even if it was only some game, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the most her thing she had done since she had awoken in this strange new world.
“Do you see how he asks after my needs even when he knows I have you all?”
She turned to the host of the party, discovering that Alexi was indeed speaking to her. He had a thoroughly contented look on his face as he followed Stafford with his eyes, no longer acting concerned in the slightest.
“It must be quite nice, sharing your days with someone like that.” She meant it, and while talking with her summoner wasn’t quite as engaging as the cards had been, she much preferred it over serving. “How long have you been together now?”
“Ninety-two blissful years,” Alexi said. “And it is. I hardly know how I managed before then.” His eyes flicked her way, and seeing her, his expression softened, even though she didn’t think he was giving anything away. “If Felstrife is to attend, she will no doubt be late. There is still hope your own love will arrive.”
Such a statement verged on kindness, and Curly was unsure how to accept such a thing from the vampire. “Thank you for saying so.”
“Pff,” Alexi said, “a pittance after the service you provided.” Curly couldn’t imagine he was referring to her carrying food about, and it didn’t take long for the him to expound. “Did you know that Stafford always wins Pauper? Always.”
“Not tonight,” Curly said, that sense of satisfaction still strong in her. These undead may have time on their side, but not all time was spent wisely. They weren’t undefeatable.
“No, not tonight,” her summoner happily agreed. “With that small victory, Sivkanu believes he might be able to manage the feat again, and I’d know that fire in my love’s eyes a mile off. He’ll be wanting a rematch!” Alexi drummed his heels against the ground; he seemed positively delighted.
Try as she might, Curly just couldn’t make sense of her summoner, even after speaking with his Souls. He seemed vapid and vain most of the time but then there were inexplicable moments like this. “You care that much about your friends enjoying themselves?”
Alexi sobered, finishing off his remaining blood-infused wine in a dash. “My every action is to fend off the malaise,” he exclaimed, gathering up the cards and then standing. “Beauty, love, and laughter are my Sources of choice, and I will shower my fellows with them until the end of my days.”
“You sound almost like a Rapturist,” she said, relieved that she could recall the rest, “endeavoring to make this world a paradise.”
“Then I should very much like to meet one someday. Hopefully we didn’t kill them all.” With those words, he dropped his empty wine glass onto her tray and then slipped away, reminding her just like that what her true position was at this gathering.
She completed a full circuit of the space, with still no sign of Basil, when a cry of “Stafford!” boomed through the room, drawing attention from all corners. The sound emanated from the balcony of all places and looking that direction, Curly saw her first leonid: the creature stood on two legs like a human, but its features were all those of a great male cat, from tapered ears to a whiskered muzzle and a tail that followed after him. The mane around his head and the fur that covered his body was all a silvery white, the color making the leonid appear vibrant, not old, the luster of his coat equal to the gossamer strands stretched about the room.
People stepped wide to give Stafford room to meet the newcomer, the large vampire matching the leonid pound for pound – one of the few in the room who could make such a claim.
“When will you grace our pit again?” the leonid asked, the layered leathers he wore moving with his body. “We’ve had few fights as grand as the last time you visited.”
“When you acquire some decent competition, Titus,” Stafford replied, a drink in each hand.
“Falsehoods do not become you,” the leonid responded with a toothy grin. In this way he did outshine the vampire – his teeth were much thicker than the Stafford’s canines and the leonid had a mouth full of them. “There's always good prey at the Maw. I pick them out myself.”
Curly was only able to hear these last words because she was pushing her way through the crowd to reach Alexi, who stood near Stafford, and had been ever since Titus had arrived. This leonid held the other Mythic kobold that she herself had suggested Alexi acquire, and if she had any hope of ingratiating herself further with her summoner, this would be the time.
“.... no bartering yet,” she caught Alexi saying, which both relieved and exasperated her. If her summoner did gain another card, that meant he might free her! It also might mean that she ended up in some Pauper deck, only dusted off on occasion, which was why she needed to be present to remind him of her role in all of this. “We shall speak of such things later, after the ceremony.”
“You vampires and your traditions,” the leonid growled, echoing some of Curly’s impatience.
At her back, she heard the rumblings of a new disturbance, this one coming in the direction of the regular entrance.
“What now?” Alexi asked in annoyance.
“I’ll handle it,” Stafford said, placing a reassuring hand on his partner. “Stay, speak with our guest.” The large vampire left, having no trouble making his way through the guests. Curly used the opportunity to cover the last few feet she needed, taking up position near Alexi, which he didn’t seem to mind. She had barely settled herself when Titus speared two pastries on her tray with his clawed fingers, popping them into his mouth.
“Where is Hekat?” Alexi queried the leonid, making Curly feel an entirely new type of worry. The fairy wasn’t supposed to go off on her own until after the jubilee. If she had, that would be a strike against Curly’s plan. She scanned the room but saw no signs of the mischievous Fae.
“I am not the keeper of your summons,” Titus rumbled. He looked at the slim vampire with a yellow eye that red flecks danced in. “It is a shame Stafford has such poor tastes in mates. It is his one great failing.”
Alexi rolled the punch inside the new glass he held. “Your insults are as bland as the raw meat you love so much. I'm sure your people are celebrating your absence as we speak, ecstatic to be rid of such a bore.”
The leonid’s tail snapped back and forth behind him. “My people weep at my absence, for who shall entertain them with challenges worthy enough while I am away?”
“If you wanted a challenge you could have helped us invade these lands,” Alexi pointed out.
The leonid sniffed around. “How hard could it have been if you already succeeded? No, me and mine would have gained nothing from such a weak people.”
Curly found herself bristling at the disparagement. True, she had obviously been defeated but that hardly meant humans as a whole could be discounted. She herself was still fighting after all.
“The city hasn’t fallen yet,” she said. “Surely you saw as much when Hekat flew you over it.”
“You let your Souls speak out of turn?” the leonid sneered, and Curly quickly decided that, one, she did not care for this leonid, and two, she was quite grateful that someone such as he was not the possessor of her card.
Still, she expected a sharp word from Alexi about her outburst, but the vampire merely smiled. “I’m always happy to let my Souls do whatever the uncouth detest.”
“Make way!” a wight or some other rasping creature barked, and craning to see the far side of the room, Curly saw that Stafford was ushering someone inside. She stood on her tiptoes; perhaps it would finally be Basil. When the large vampire stepped back, the person revealed was indeed a human boy – he was even of the appropriate age – but it wasn’t her love. Instead, the young man had a shock of black hair and looked almost as pale as some of the vampires.
"Who is this whelp?" the leonid grumbled. He was obviously annoyed to have lost the spotlight so quickly and was acting no better than a petulant child about it in Curly’s estimation.
Alexi was a moment in answering, watching the new arrival closely. “No doubt our guest of honor. The one who stilled Beliss.”
Titus hacked a cough and then said, “Perhaps I should finish off one of your number if it will grant me such a reception.”
Curly titched in her throat at the thoroughly inappropriate comment, earning a sharp look from the leonid. Before anything could escalate between them, Stafford spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “This is Hull! Ender of Beliss and our reciter this eve. Make him welcome.”
There was a hubbub in response to this announcement, and Alexi said something to someone but Curly’s attention was fixed on the boy again. Hull. Did she know that name? She didn’t think so… And yet, when the young man’s eyes happened upon her, they grew twice as wide. He blinked and then began making his way straight toward her – there could be no mistaking the direction of his path.
If she still breathed, it might have caught in her throat. As it was, Curly watched him approach with a growing sense of eagerness. Even if she didn’t know him, it was clear he knew her, and maybe, just maybe, that meant she’d finally find out who she was.
Comments
Sharrif
Absolutely our first ever Fae cards!!!
Ryan Prendergast
It's happening guys! After the past few chapters of spinning our wheels it's good to see some tangible progress
Chirag
Are these the first fae cards we've seen in story? The toadstool symbol seems new to me.
