"Yes let's." Says Brix a leads the rest into the void.

As with the other two who went first, Brix, Wadi, and Milo are met with utter darkness; they cannot see anything, even the tip of their noses. It feels as if they are merely spirits floating in a field of emptiness. If it were not for the ropes tying them together, they would not know that the others are there with them. 

After walking a few steps into the darkened room, they see a silhouette of an archway a few feet away. Hesitant but believing in Myrla and Inge's safe journey through the room, they walk through the archway and become engulfed in a field of white. At the same time, the voice from before whispers to all five of them, "Witness."

When they blink out the white in their vision, they are treated to a very different landscape. The corridor and the drab walls of the place before have been replaced with rolling hills as far as the eye can see. The landscape has been scarred by fire and fell means, but it is more beautiful than what they currently have after the Emergence. Trenches have been dug into the valley and thousands of people -- soldiers -- move like ants through them, but it looks more lively than the barren wasteland that is the White Waste. 

"What are you doing gawking like that, cadets?" A voice behind them asks. He is a middle-aged human man dressed in a full set of plate armour. A sigil of a hammer on a field of yellow and black is emblazoned on his left pauldron. "Come on, the supplies won't deliver themselves. We must get this to the platoon before the next wave of attack comes."

Looking around, the five of them can see that they are in a march with what appears to be a few dozen fresh recruits and levies. Some are dragging a cart filled with crates and barrels, while others are riding on a horseless carriage and wagon. By the sound of metal in the carriage and wagon, they are carrying fresh weapons to the front line. 

Inge, impressionable and never part of an organized fighting force, continues gaping at her surroundings long after middle-aged commander dresses them down.  As if disbelieving her eyes, she touches the flat of her glaive blade to make sure it is still there.  At least my companions are here too!

She tries to take in the entire landscape as a hunter would.  Ignoring the soldiers and trenches, the supplies and wagons.  She imagines the landscape empty and barren, trying to determine if the contours of the hills look in any way familiar to any place she has been in the White Waste, on the journey from Munamguk to Perseverance, or in the immediate vicinity of Perseverance itself.  Any other familiar markers.  Are we looking at our own world in the past?

Inge's Survival:  24 (Another Nat. 20... need those on attack rolls!)

Milo whispers to the others "Did you hear Prana too? Witness? How much do you reckon this is a recreation of how Prana, Galen and Not-Hunteros met and/or fell out?" 

"Inge, Milo, Myrla,  Brix, What's going on?" Wadi asks as he he surveys the new surroundings. 

Military training tells Myrla to follow the instructions given to her, so she observes the scene. Everything green, she noted first. Almost like when she was young, could this scene be from a time even longer ago? Something is going to happen here, something of importance, she thinks while scanning the defences. "I think we're about to be attacked immediately," she suddenly says to warn the others and to answer Wadi's question. "They want us to witness this, it must be something of great relevance. They prepare for an attack here, so we're about to witness that, I think. And it is going to be a devastating one at that if I can trust my gut. Let's hurry and bring the supplies. Who knows if we can make a difference still," she urges and doubles up her efforts to reach her destination pressing forward the others around her. She tries to get a good look at these recruits to sort out from which region they might be from, and which races participate on this side of the war. 

(Perception: 6, History: 12)

It is difficult to determine where this place is. Even for someone as well-traveled as Inge, this doesn't appear like anything she has ever seen. Perhaps the northern side of the White Waste, because that's where the landscape has more hills and dunes, but it is just too different to ascertain. What she knows and feels, though, is that there is danger here, far more than the battlefield ahead of them. Her guts is telling her that they have to prepare for an attack soon. Her eyes are drawn to the slowly rising sun behind the marching column. Something is coming. 

Myrla's own long knowledge and experience also fail to help. Scrutinizing the recruits around her doesn't help as there are various races, some she hasn't even seen or didn't think existed. Dwarves, elves, half-giants, humans, halflings, gnomes, that much she recognizes, but there are some others that she only heard in tales and legends: blue-skinned humans with fluffly white hair that seems to defy gravity, elves with dusky complexion and all white eyes covered in darkened garments, several humanoids with fins and gills behind their ears, a green-skinned half-giants with massive tusks protruding from their jaw, even a half-equine half-man person. 

Brix blinks at the sudden change in light. Looks at the scene laid out before him and rubs his eyes. He gives his head a good shake before opening them again. 

"Shnibits! The firewater must've gone bad!" He mutters. Myrlas voice grounds his reality and stops him from questioning it. He scrambles after the others knowing he wouldn't last long without them. 

Both of Inge's hands are on her glaive, knuckles whitening as she stares towards the sunrise.  Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet and strained.

"I do not recognize this land, but I can feel it.  Something comes.  Danger.  From the east, I think.  Soon."  She turns to the commander, unaware (or uncaring) of how unprofessional she must sound as a supposed soldier.  "What do we need to get where, now?  For the, ah... platoon?"

She begins hastily trying to move whatever needs moving to wherever it needs to go, though the sense of impending attack makes her do a mediocre job.

Inge Athletics:  11

Wadi taking in the new scene and new peoples. He looks to the flora and fauna to see if it too has changed. (Anything new?) Nature: 17

Seeing his friend Inge react with concern raises Wadi's attention as well. He has learned to trust her instincts when it comes to danger. 

He readies his staff for combat. 

Despite Myrla's astonishment at the diversity surrounding her, she quickly composed herself and joined the effort to transport supplies to the frontline. With a determined spirit, she assisted in keeping crates and barrels securely fastened. Her years of experience proved invaluable as she helped organize the chaotic scene, efficiently coordinating the efforts of the recruits and levies. But with the unfamiliar faces and races around her, Myrla's focus wavered as they move toward the front lines.

(Athletics: 9 if needed.)

To Wadi, it is strange to see such greeneries. It has been quite some time since he saw something green. Perseverance is not exactly surrounded by forests. As he casts his gaze around, he cannot see many fauna. The nearby battlefield must have scared them off. However, the flora is quite abundant despite the state of the land. Unfortunately, there are no concretely distinguishable flora that would immediately tell him where they currently are. If he must surmise, though, he would have said that they are far, far in the past because there hasn't been any war that scarred the land this much for decades before the Emergence, and then almost everything turned into a wasteland when the Emergence came. 

The fully armoured man turns toward Inge quizzically before tutting. "The recruitment office didn't deign to fully brief the newbies again, did they?" He grumbles. He points toward the distant trenches and says, "That's the Crata Line, the border between Nirvanah territory and the new separatist movement, Thrandir. A request was made to gather fresh recruits and deliver new supplies of weapons and non-perishable food to bolster the defense. From the last report, the separatist are planning something big and we must be prepared, especially if one of the Archons comes to play. So, double time it, cadets! The general is waiting."

Milo decides to try and get as much information from this man "They didn't brief us at all really. Honestly, we might as well have been living under a rock. I don't even remember what year it is any more. And what are the Archons?"

Inge continues to apply her strength to moving the weapons and supplies in the direction the armored man had indicated, working with Myrla, yet hunching her shoulders at the sense of impending danger.  The sense she should be hefting her glaive and setting her stance, facing the rising sun...

What are the Archons, she echoes in her mind as Milo asks.  Prana... Helstrom... Dawnchaser?  No, that last is actually one of Wadi's names, right?  Or maybe an Archon is whatever had taken over poor Hunteros...  the one that burned searing hot and called her Helstrom and Wadi Dawnchaser...

Myrla shakes her head along with Milo, “No briefing, Sir.” But instead of pestering the officer with more questions — she would think themselves lucky if he’d answer Milo’s questions — Myrla turns to her fellow recruits and whispers to the nearest, “You know who’s Prana?”

Wadi, finally realizing his friend is trying to push the wagon by herself, come over to assist. 

"Wow, you guys must have been living in the outskirts or deep in the forests," the man says with a chuckle. "Some of you do look like the part. It's the year 1073 since the founding of Nirvanah. The Archons are what the people now called the leaders of Nirvanah, the empire we live in. There were thirteen of them, ruling together as a council, but then five of them had a disagreement with the others and left. They then created the Thrandir Federation in order to usurp control of the outer region of Nirvanah, disturbing the peace with their talk of revolution and unrestricted development. If it's only talk and peaceful riot, we're fine with it. Unfortunately, the Thrandirs are more sinister than that, using fell means to dominate the minds and causing much destruction to deny Nirvanah resources, trusts, and people."

Myrla turns toward the nearest recruit, a fellow elven woman dressed in simple tunic with a gnarled staff in hand. The woman quirks her eyebrow curiously before she rebukes Myrla at the question. "Please use the correct title!" The woman says. "Arch-Magus Prana is our delegation in the Council of Thirteen, the youngest amongst them. We ought to give her the proper respect for her achievement."

"Little Prana... the youngest... it makes sense," Myrla says softly in response and then replies stronger, "An Arch-Magus. What is that? The title of a strong leader, or an elected representative? There are eight now, you say? Eight Arch-Maguses. And five that separated, right? Forgive me for being dense. I've just been ... away ... in the forest, you know, we elves can be reclusive. And they are strong fighters, these Archons, or Arch-Maguses?"

"It must have been one of these Archons that took over Hunteros. At least it was someone familiar to Prana, the Arch-Magus Prana," she whispers to her companions while continuing her efforts to push the supplies ever closer to the frontline. 

(Our characters don't know anything about magic, right? So they wouldn't know what Arch-Magi are, or did I get that wrong and they've heard the title? I think you said there aren't any records from that time, so a history check wouldn't do, right?)

Milo whispers back, "I am willing to bet that what took over Hunteros was one of the 5 who separated."

Inge grunts as she continues to move the weapons and supplies.

"Are Helstrom and Dawnchaser archons too?  Which side are they on?  Ah... Nirvanah like Prana or... or the other one.  Thrandir?"