Thrice Great

Hermes Trismegistus

Rythmos, Alternate Patras, Greece, 2005 AD

A nightclub in downtown Alternate Patras, Greece (known to the locals as Anapliromatiko Patra, or Alpha Pi for short). Non-Disgraced magic-folk often come here for a night out. Beware of the drunk creeps that hang out here, though.

Men and women alike dance to the newest dance music, their bodies swaying to the rhythm. The music is being pumped out of large speakers, drowning out people's conversations and the noises typical of a bar.

The bartender pours a drink and hands it to another man. The man nods in thanks.

"Geez, this is your fifteenth drink tonight. How are you not boozed senseless?"

The man takes a sip of his drink before answering.

"I have a greater alcoholic capacity than most humans. It takes a lot to get me drunk, trust me."

"Than most humans?" The bartender asks, eyebrows raised. "What are you then? Nothing can surprise me, I've seen practically every sapient creature known to magickind come through here. And I won't tell anybody if you don't want me to."

The man takes another sip. "That's a secret."

He winks at the bartender, who nods.

"Okay. I won't press."

The bartender turns and goes to serve another customer. The man swivels on his barstool and watches the masses dance on.

Truth be told, he doesn't know why he even came to the club. He has no tolerance for places like these. Too many drunks and temptations. Yet it drew him. He likes seeing the wild side of humanity. The new music and technology intrigues him. And the antics of drunks never gets old. Even several thousand years after his worship, humans still pull the same actions when intoxicated. And every time, it's just as entertaining as it was centuries ago.

As he drinks, the man can feel the eyes of the youngsters boring into him. He lets out a sigh. Large men with long beards and leather coats don't belong in nightclubs. If only he could help his appearance in this form.

The cry of a child pierces through the music.

The man takes a drink. Modern music sure is strange.

The child's cry happens again. The man frowns. The cry happened on the beat last time, and it only lasted a second. Now, the cry drags on, contrasting the music.

More crying. The man taps on the bar, drawing the attention of the bartender.

"Do you hear that?" He asks.

"Hear what?"

"The child crying."

The men are silent. The child cries again. The bartender shrugs.

"Yeah, I hear it for sure. Someone must have brought their kid." He chuckles. "Well, I guess it is the full moon."

The man nods, thoughts reeling. He drains his glass in one gulp, before slamming it down and standing.

"Excuse me," he mumbles, pushing through the crowd. His size helps, and people scramble out of his way.

The man hears a crunch.

"OWWW!"

Damn the low lighting.

He senses the person's anguish from their crushed foot, and he reaches out towards them. Healing magic courses through his arm into his hand. The person calms.

He pushes on until he reaches the back door. He slips out into the night.

The man's in an alley. Moonlight reflects off the plastic lids of the Dumpsters and off the tin trashcans.