Backpacking Trip: Ancient Greece, Friday
Wasn't the bright sunshine and very, very pre-industrial fresh air going to be a refreshing change after London Below?
The portal opened up on a riverbank; heavy forest (that looked far more suited to the Antipodes than the Mediterranean, but never mind that) was visible on the opposite side near a handrail-free but sturdy-looking footbridge, and a short walk away from the portal itself stood a small, tribal-looking settlement in a clearing, all surprisingly sophisticated-for-their-time shingled roofs on the huts, what looked like a speaking platform in a central . . . square-ish thing, and scaffold-like watchtowers describing the rough perimeter of the village where it wasn't walled in on one side by a rocky cliff.
If you peered through the trees across the river long enough you might see what looked like horses moving through paths not visible from here -- except horses didn't usually have human hands to hold the weapons that might also be visible to the observant. The village this side of the river was bustling with activity too -- exclusively female activity, and not all that modestly clad at that, unless you counted weaponry everywhere as modest.
It was okay, though; none of them looked inclined to harm you.
Oh, and . . . just ignore the hum of cicadas in the background. It comes and goes and with a little ADR work post-production everyone'll hear you just fine anyway.
[OOC: And the Very Special Greece stop of the backpacking trip is go; Gabrielle will be joining you tomorrow.]
The portal opened up on a riverbank; heavy forest (that looked far more suited to the Antipodes than the Mediterranean, but never mind that) was visible on the opposite side near a handrail-free but sturdy-looking footbridge, and a short walk away from the portal itself stood a small, tribal-looking settlement in a clearing, all surprisingly sophisticated-for-their-time shingled roofs on the huts, what looked like a speaking platform in a central . . . square-ish thing, and scaffold-like watchtowers describing the rough perimeter of the village where it wasn't walled in on one side by a rocky cliff.
If you peered through the trees across the river long enough you might see what looked like horses moving through paths not visible from here -- except horses didn't usually have human hands to hold the weapons that might also be visible to the observant. The village this side of the river was bustling with activity too -- exclusively female activity, and not all that modestly clad at that, unless you counted weaponry everywhere as modest.
It was okay, though; none of them looked inclined to harm you.
Oh, and . . . just ignore the hum of cicadas in the background. It comes and goes and with a little ADR work post-production everyone'll hear you just fine anyway.
[OOC: And the Very Special Greece stop of the backpacking trip is go; Gabrielle will be joining you tomorrow.]