He’d been cleaning a glass when he first felt it, the faint vibration and warming of the object in his pocket briefly stilling Pater’s hands before he simply finished the cup in a quick sweep and made his way to a little covered spot at the end of the bar. It was more often than not used for the special drinks, things that most would not be immediately going for if they were just stopping by, but for the moment it suited his purposes just fine.

            Taking out the small metal disc which barely filled up his palm, the bartender read the numbers that had formed on the silvery surface, a frown furrowing his bearded face as he puzzled through them.

            One o’clock, two days hence.

            Hmm, sounded like a meeting alright. Granted there had been some rumblings, whispers of new gods and old problems teasing at his ears for the past week. Perhaps that was what this was about.

            Either way, he’d have to clear out the big room in the back. Heavens knew he’d better get to it as quickly as possible, given that for the various members of this little party, two days could mean anything from early to on the nose to hours late. Best to get a jump on it if he could.

            Though it was not as hard as it could have been, really. Only a few things were being stored in there, mostly all Pater had to do was dust, and make sure that there were some form of refreshments around.

            Over the next day or so, folks milled in, Pater easily recognizing faces as he made sure that they were taken care of with rooms upstairs. Even still, as the second day dawned, there were still a few people of their little club that were absent. But, they could wait no longer. The meeting had to happen even if there were certain members not present.

            The expansive room was nearly filled with everything from the enormous, eight-headed frame of Orochi to the blank white, slight frame of the Librarian, all simply mingling as they waited to formally start. The eight-headed dragon did have to scramble a little to get into the backroom; no matter what measures anyone tried to take to make the room accessible Orochi always had some trouble moving to and from the main bar to the back. Though, as the dragon finally managed to get himself settled in his usual space, the arrival of a woman in silvery Polynesian garb softened the mild irritation in all eight reptilian faces as a few soft words were exchanged between the pair. Sitting in the corner of the room, Pater took in the relatively eclectic group.

            There were a few representatives of different pantheons here, with the Greek cosmics such as Hephaestus, Hades, and Hesita together with Polynesian and Inuit cosmics such as Hina and Silap Inua, respectfully. The more sunny-clime, silvery dress of Hina contrasted with the heavy furs of Silap Inua, but the pair were never too far apart from each other when they visited. Though perhaps that was expected, considering what the pair had been through together…

There were also some of the Lao, Pater easily able to pick out faces such as Simbi and Ogoun, the ocean-water blue robes standing stark against the red and gunmetal coloring Ogoun favored. In the corner Pater could see the darkly colored, deceptively modernly dressed Kur quietly sipping on one of the drinks Pater had left out. Of course Tiamat likely wouldn’t be coming herself, but she’d deigned to send a representative. The Scribe he could understand sending the Librarian, as she couldn’t leave the Library, but there was nothing stopping Tiamat from leaving Ebbabar Circus instead of sending Kur in her place…

            Still, it wasn’t as though Pater himself could do all that much about it, and even though the noncommittal attitude and whiff of politics rankled him he simply opted to concentrate on other things, like the fact that there were a few last-minute arrivals milling in. These he recognized, the figures of one of the Triunity religions, the Middle Way Philosophy, and even some of the oldest pantheon. They’d hardly had a name or a culture the same way that the Greeks, the Lao, even the Nippon did, but they were very recognizable to anyone that even had a passing knowledge of the hierarchy.

The Hunter, milling to the corner where Kur was sitting, wearing a mix of old warrior garb and modern combat fatigues, The Mother and The Maiden, both robed in flowing dresses of a calm blue and sunny yellow taking their places at another table. And, finally, the Teller arrived, the somewhat more unusual-looking being shuffling off her wide-brimmed, dark hat, exposing the almost mummy-looking ribbons of parchment that she was wrapped in, all with words in various languages flowing across the yellowed paper. The last of these arrivals Pater took an exceptional interest in, given that from what he figured, The Wanderer had been the one to call this meeting, given that she was the only one who seemed to take an active role in this now age-old society, her travels bringing her in contact with more things of interest than most of the stationary or fixed cosmics. And, while the script-wrapped figure of Teller might not have seen her sister lately, she might be able to shed some light on exactly when she might be coming.

            Though when Pater posed the question, Teller’s white-on-black eyes furrowed from underneath the wrappings, his thoughts growing less sure as she clearly needed a moment to think on her answer.

            “I…haven’t seen her for a few months now, actually. Though that’s not too strange, she travels more than most do. Perhaps she’ll be along later. If she called things together, it had to be about something important, right?”

            Sound, mostly, but it didn’t help the fact that they’d probably have to start soon with some of them having things to get back to, and Wanderer was nowhere in sight. In a rare move, Pater did check the bar, just to be sure that Wanderer had not gotten caught up in talking with one of the patrons. It certainly was possible.

            But, nothing. Not a hint of silver hair, blindfolded face, or colorful wrap among any of the few out in the bar. The last few were milling in as Pater walked to the backroom, his eyes picking out a young man with a bomber jacket and a devil-may-care swagger about him. Already sitting down was a figure dressed in somewhat patchwork robes, though with four arms gently maneuvering their clothing and handling a drink that they had grabbed.