February 21st:

His body ached from the impact, and his mind was about ready to explode. Rory let out a prolonged grunt as he puked up on the snow and glass grass, startling through squinting eyes as he witnessed their flexibility. Blinding light pierced his retinas and sent a shock through his brain. He clutched at his forehead as his temples throbbed mercilessly, shielding his eyes from the glare with the palms of his hands. He licked and swallowed the remaining vomit on his lips and in his mouth, and found a cleaner spot to lay down and try to relax. If time allowed him the luxury, he would return to the mainland by sea, period.

Kolson:
From what you can gather these trees are the natural result of flora being grown in an entirely magical environment specifically tailored to a set ecosystem over centuries.

After a few minutes of just laying about, Rory started crawling toward the trees, touching the grass and the soil, and the trees when he got to them, to explore their properties. He took out a bottle of water to drink, both to get back the water he lost and to lessen the bad taste in his mouth as much as possible.

Rory:
To your surprise the soil, grass, and 'bark' of the trees all feel pleasantly warm, almost like a warm bun of bread fresh out of the oven. The leaf, when you touch it, falls immediately off the branch and into your hand, still burning lightly though there is no pain nor heat. It feels soft and malleable, almost like thick pudding, in your hands.

"What in Gods'..." He pushed his tongue from his mouth, and after a moment's hesitation, he licked at the leaf.

Curious, Kolson pulls off his right glove and also picks a leaf. "This tree is obviously not natural. I think it's been bred for this region."

Compared to the others, Kolson is fine. His hat sees to that when it comes to temperatures. He was never one for being cold or hot so why suffer needlessly?

Rory:
The leaf tastes surprisingly good, sort of like a minty pudding, though the flames jolt through your tongue and knock you back sufficiently to hit the ground again.

Rory reeled as his body hit the ground again too soon. His tongue hung out of his mouth slightly. Before he realized his tongue was numb, he'd already bit it. The next thing inside his mouth after the minty flavor was a runny liquid with traces of iron. "Don'...ea' i'," he forced out. "Pobaby...juth' fo' Thuthkerth."

translation:

Kolson giggles, "Tell me Rory, what did it taste like before and after the leaf threw you on your butt?"

He offers Rory a hand up.

"Like...min' pudthing," he answered, pulling himself up on Kolson's arm. "Weally. Thwee', min'-flavored pudthing. An' afther..." he grunted from the pain of standing on his own, "like ge'ing hi' in the mouth with one of Thhee's li'le palm flameth, if the flameth hadth been thundther inth'dead."

translation:

Snarg tumbles forward, skidding on the ground, barely managing to keep from falling hard on his face. "Oooofffh," he rubs his eyes hard and groans, spitting a large wad of saliva on to the ground. "Guess it ... isn't like the other times. Why's it always ... have to hit you ... in the face?" Getting up on his feet with an sharp intake of breath, he wipes the drool from his mouth with a trembling hand as he lurches sideways. Managing to finally right himself after a few stumbles, he looks around at the ground and treeline as he sniffs the air around him. "Guess we made it okay. You know what we're supposed to be looking for, Fiernaceal?"

Spoiler:

Sethos stood quietly in the background as the group bickered before their journey, he'd come to expect it and it was fair given what they were about to do, but even so hearing Javan and Snargs words only made the dread within him mount quicker, he didn't want to die on some island nobody had ever heard of but the fact was if any if them would have a chance of surviving on the lassel they'd need a healer, and if Sethos hadn't been there and any of them had gotten hurt he wouldn't have been able to forgive himself.

Then he found himself on the cold island, his head pounding from the impact and the light, he felt a little sick as he rolled over onto his back and tried to rub the pain out of his eyes. Taku crawled out from one of his cloak pockets, clearly struggling for balance, before falling over onto his squishy pink face and giving a little sigh.

Sethos peers over to his left just in time to see Rory lick the leaf and fly back onto the ground, prompting a belly laugh from Sethos before he groans again and continues to rub his eyes. He climbs onto his feet and picks up Taku, placing him gently back in his pocket and looking around.

"So where do we think we are? The north tip or the south tip?" He asks as he puts up his hood to fight off the cold nipping at his ears.

"I saw this briefly from a birds-eye view so I might be able to tell. Let me think..."

Spoiler:

Gwydo:
Even if I fully add your Concentration bonus the sheer alien nature of the method of transport (and the low roll) contribute to you landing just as badly as anyone else. You do not, however, fall unconscious.

Snarg:
The ground itself seems utterly undisturbed by your passing nor anyone or thing else's. As you experiment, pressing your foot into the ground to make a footprint, it reforms back into untouched ground within a second of you removing your foot.
This close to ground zero you cannot get a feeling for where the wave initiated.

Spoiler:

You are on the northern shore, only about a hundred feet from it actually, with white sands that glitter like glass in the sunlight covering the beach to the left and right as far as the horizon.

"Oh, we're on the northern shore, Sethos. I guess I should have looked behind me" Snarg points over his shoulder to the beaches to the north. "I've got no idea where to go aside from just plain looking around to see what's here. I can't make heads or tails of the energy here - too much - and this ground doesn't leave any tracks no matter what I do." He removes his foot from the ground, which rapidly reforms to cover his print. "Oh! Is everyone okay? Anyone not shaking it off just yet? We need to take a break?" Scurrying to each group member, he checks for responsiveness. "You doing good? You doing good? How about you?"

Spoiler:

Sethos turns around at the water upon hearing Snarg's discovery.

"Oh... well that explains the sea breeze". He says, pulling out his pipe and filling it up before stopping and looking about himself,

"Maybe better to avoid giving our position away with a smoke signal" he thinks out loud before grumpily dumping the pipeweed back into his snuff box and throwing his paraphernalia back into his various pockets.

"Here, anyone need some blankets? Only got two, but it'll keep you warm. Keep in your heat now while you can." Reaching in to his pack, he pulls out two winter blankets and hands them forward.

"I'm on my feet, aren' I? Gith' the blanke' tho thomeone elthe, I go' my own." He rustled through his pack and took out his jacket, then removed his armor to put it on underneath. When he strapped his armor back on, he pulled out a cloak and threw it around his shoulders.

translation:

"A' any wate, we'll hathe tho find a...thown, or thilladthe. Dtho they ethen hathe thothe...?" he wondered out loud. "We can wecother while we're there, but ith'll altho githe uth a ttharting poin' for dthirecthunth."

translation:

As the group slowly gets themselves together and tries to find comfort from the bitter cold, the wind kicks up a bit as a sea-born storm is starting to move in from the northeast, and you can see dark clouds on the horizon.

Snarg:

Spoiler:

Dropping one of the blankets to the ground, Snarg flings the other one over his head, tying it up as a cloak. "I think we're being watched," he mutters to the group, fumbling with the blanket over his head, "thought I saw something a second ago."

Spoiler:

At Snarg's comment Sethos dives into a crouch as though it'll help if they are being watched and slowly crawls over to Snarg, speaking to him quietly.

"What did you see? A tusker?"

"I don't know," he says worriedly. He clears his throat and speaks up a bit more loudly. "We're not here to bother them, so if it wants to be left alone, we'll leave it alone."

Spoiler:

Gathering himself up from his unceremonious landing, Gwydo adjusts his equipment and prepares to move out.

"Good idea" Sethos says with a nervous nod before swallowing with an audible gulp.