He hadn’t attended a Gather in two years. It wasn’t that he was unaware of any that were upcoming. It was purely that he hadn’t the time or the inclination to stand in a forest, swamp or desert, for what could be seven days of archaic custom and story-telling. Equally, it wasn’t the fact that during the last one he attended he was beaten almost to torpor by a brutish Gangrel called Shere. As in Shere Khan no less.

He had always, since their conception, favoured the Gathers held by the City Gangrel. Although some were rowdy affairs, more akin to those of their forest dwelling cousins, there were a scattered few that resembled boardroom meetings. Among the more politically noteworthy Gangrel, the Gathers had evolved into corporate affairs in which business was discussed, financial projections commented upon, and acquisitions compared.

There were, at times, even the equivalent of the ferals’ pissing contests. Who was the strongest, the most fierce, had evolved into comparisons of financial or social success.

The staredown had remained a constant. Sometimes, even in the modern nights, intimidation was the key to a successful venture.

Sadly, Calder sneered, none of that would be happening tonight.

The drizzle had been relentless since he stepped out of the car. His driver, Gunther, had driven off suppressing a guffaw as his master walked into the night stained woods.

Calder was dressed down for once. Exchanging his usual three piece suit for a casual sports jacket, slacks and comfortable, softened leather shoes. The weather hadn’t gone as forecast, quickly drenching him and reducing his shoes to muddy clumps on his feet. He growled but trudged on into the trees, the distant amber glow of a campfire leading him on.

He cursed audibly as he reached the fireside, his derisive snort brought sniggers from the more ferally inclined Gangrel. He welcomed the primitive warmth of the fire as he dropped the satchel he’d brought along, to the fire dried earth.

[i:4fffe34641]“No seats?”[/i:4fffe34641] He asked mockingly. The others merely grunted before returning to their own conversations.

[i:4fffe34641]“Good of you to come, Calder. It’s been too long.”[/i:4fffe34641]

A fiery maned Gangrel stepped over from the far side of the fire. He smiled toothily, revealing two pairs of sabre-like fangs. It was easy to see why he was known as Sabor. Calder feigned a smile as they shook hands.

[i:4fffe34641]“Yes. Yes it has, Sabor. Still keeping the home-fires burning I see?”[/i:4fffe34641]

Sabor smiled again, this time less gratuitously, he ran a hand through his shock of red hair and nodded.

[i:4fffe34641]“Aye. I only wish the Gather had been called over more pleasant circumstances.”[/i:4fffe34641]

Calder nodded, though truth be told he foresaw conflicts to come with his “friend”.