Stepping through was easy enough, even felt rather natural. Most had difficulty going between alternate realities on their own world, struggling to create a memory of that reality where none existed, but completely different worlds were alien enough that the mind accepted how different it was and didn't try to place itself in that world's history.<br/><br/>Through the portal, they emerged in a disused tavern. (http://www.derelictlondon.com/uploads/5/6/0/3/5603187/queens-arms-sth-norwood-23_2_orig.jpg) Clearly crumbling from years of neglect, the door was broken, and needed a good forceful kick to open. The windows were boarded up. Once the door was kicked open, the group emerged into a ghost district. It looked like it had once been a neighborhood of some kind, perhaps the poor section of town, and perhaps the Consulate's authority had forced out anyone here before the Inventor's Faire...they didn't know if it was yearly, or less frequent then that, but the city had certainly made preparations...<br/><br/>However, there were signs of life. The sound of boots on the ground, at least. And they were coming closer. They didn't seem like they had been disturbed by the door breaking, there were no shouts of 'what was that' or 'over here!'. They sounded like they were around the corner, giving the four heroes (and their as of now unseen ally) a chance to prepare an ambush...