They find themselves in a forest of what look to be evergreen trees on the side of a mountain. More specifically they're in a small clearing. There isn't any clear path visible the the underbrush is minimal so they could likely hike in any direction they choose. There's the faint sound of a small stream off to one side mixing with the quiet sounds of wildlife.

A quick glance around with myriad eyes indicates that they don't seem to be under immediate threat, he gently unwraps his friends, Ounu's dreamstuff retreating back into his body...mostly. They still leave enough manifest that they won't be caught off guard if something jumps out at them.

<Any idea where we are?> she asks across the group's psychic link, glancing around suspiciously and flipping open one of her zone-suit's numerous pockets to retrieve a wand, as much for the comfort of having it in hand as because she's detected any sort of threat to use it on.

He doesn't reply immediately, instead focusing on casting a divination to and determine the answer and trying to not be distracted by how oddly ordinary the nearby terrain is. Unfortunately, he doesn't meet with much success. <Sandy, your aura's still strong, enough that I'm not really getting any answers through it. Is something wrong?>

<There's something...strange, to the texture of reality here. It's subtle, so I'm not sure what sort of effect it would have on you two if we just let it in.>

Hm. <Alright, keep it up for now. We'll stick together and search on foot. We should try and find the rest of the Fleeting Mirage's crew, or at least the ship itself, before moving on with the mission.>

The others all assent, and so they begin tracing out a wide, searching spiral through the forest, keeping their eyes peeled for sides of a crash, or the bulky, white shape of people wearing zone-suits. Ounu is vigilant for psychic signals, whether of the crew or of unfamiliar minds, and Wrinkle continues working through his repertoire of divinations to see if he can spot the magic of the ship, or at least the magical residue of its wreckage.

The mountain that they're on is decently steep and the nearby stream is relatively narrow but appears to be clean. It shouldn't be too long before they find an overlook and in the distance about five kilometers off there's a fairly tall wooden tower past the edge of the forest. From the same vantage point they can see as an enormous plume of water erupts from the peak of the mountain they've been climbing. It doesn't appear to be dangerous.

No sign of the Fleeting Mirage, or the crew, or the missing ship they were sent out here to find. Damn.

She gives Wrinkle a psychic ping, just in case he's found something and forgotten to mention it.

He is, in fact, mostly distracted, since he's run through most of the spells he thought might be relevant and come to the conclusion that they're not only not anywhere in the Shadowfell (which in retrospect was rather obvious, given this place doesn't look like the Zones or a rim-jungle), but not in a Material Plane either, or even an astral domain. <That anomaly took us into the Beyond, I'm pretty confident. The fact that we ended up somewhere that looks even vaguely familiar is a blessing, and Sandy and Ounu's aura is probably a good portion of why we're still alive. We definitely shouldn't try taking our suits off any time soon.>

Sandy pings acknowledgement of the fact, and they can all feel the aura strength, just a little.

Regardless, what a mess. <Alright. For all we know the Fleeting Mirage and Iron-Beetle are as good as gone. Our priority should be finding a way back home, or at least finding somewhere we can shelter safely.>

And they do try to find the anomaly again, in the hopes that they might be able to figure out some way to reopen it and fly back through. Sadly, even after coming back to exact spot they first appeared there's no sign of it. With no other lead on how to get back, it's decided that Sandy should grab them, transform into a winged shape, and fly them to that wooden tower. It will serve as a place to set up camp if nothing else, and if they're lucky there might be some people there they can talk to learn more about where they've ended up.

As they approach they notice a bipedal person with blue and slightly shiny skin on a balcony near the top of the tower. The person is waving to them. As they get even closer they might be able to pick out further details like their large pointy ears them having four eyes, three fingered hands, the seemingly hand-made clothing from some sort of rough fabric, or the device they're holding in one of their hands.

Wrinkle is the first to get a proper glimpse at the form of the (presumed) locals, as they're still flying in, and sends the visual through the psychic link. <They don't look like any kind tallfolk or smallfolk I've ever seen, aside from the ears.>

He experimentally tries casting just the first part of a translation spell, but it fails, and the way it fails makes him realize his assessment of the divinations earlier was wrong. <The etherosphere here is almost completely undeveloped...almost elemental, except for being closer to the Prime Material in terms of energy levels. I'm not going to be able to translate for us. Ounu, do you think you can manage it instead?> 

They radiate a wordless confidence, and as Sandy brings them in to hover near the balcony, they'll extend and invisible tendril and deposit a psychic transceiver in the individual's language matrix, then signal completion to their host.

"<Hello!>" Sandy begins, speaking sounds that plausibly entirely alien to the tower's blue humanoid but which through the transceiver are intelligible nonetheless. "<You wouldn't happen to know where we are, would you? We are very lost.>"

"That's certainly true. You don't look like any kind of people I've seen before not even the aliens we have statues or bones from. Given that I'm not sure how much help it'll be for me to tell you you're on Timber Hearth near the East Geyser Mountains."

He confers with the others just to make sure, and yeah, none of that sounds familiar, at least in combination with the physiology of their interlocutor. "<Well, we've confirmed that we are about as lost as we thought we were at least. I don't suppose you'd be able and willing to host a handful of strangers while we try and figure out how to get back-- Oh, also, just to make sure, you haven't seen any green-skinned, broad-shouldered men wear similar bulky white suits and spherical helmets as my comrades, have you?>" He briefly turns the dreamflesh currently wrapped around Wrinkle and Mischief transparent so that their zone-suits can be observed.

"I can't say that I have. And sure, we have space especially with everyone who's off exploring. And food ain't scarce either though I can't say for sure if it'll be good for you, we Heathians have hardy stomaches."

It had been a while since the break for rations when the Fleeting Mirage got snagged by the anomaly. "<My comrades and I should be able to render food safe to eat, between ourselves. Where should I land?>"

"I don't think the stairs down would be comfortable for you so it's probably best for you to land at the bottom. I'll come down and lead you to town. That's where we have the most room to spare. Most other places aren't really bigger than they need to be since they tend to be purpose built."

"<Reasonable,>" he replies, and promptly does descend, retracting the dreamflesh once they're grounded.

Once the local comes out to meet them again, they'll find, in the center, a humanoid with a mane of bright red fibers sprouting from his head, two pale eyes with blue-circled pupils, and tan skin wearing a loose-fitting, draping outfit,

a tall humanoid in one of the bulky white suits, with dark eyes, long and straight silver fibers, and a pair of dark eyes visible through the helmet's glass shield,

and a child-sized figure wearing the other bulky white suit, inside of which there seems to be a humanoid so dark in color that she seems more like a shadow than a physical object, enough that making out finer details of her appearance is quite difficult.

"Are you all different sorts of people?" They ask before starting to lead the way down a dirt road leading in the opposite direction of the mountains they came from.

"<Ah, yes!>" Sandy begins as they follow. "<I'm...well it's hard to put an exact pin in it due the my particular history, but my base form is modeled on a human* with a few modifications on the part of the people who created me. Wrinke,>" he gestures to the taller one, currently on his right, "<is a first generation elven* exile, or at least that's our best guess, since his memory of the time before we picked him up is pretty spotty. Mischief,>" he gestures to the small one on his left, "<is obviously some variety of smallfolk, but she's a very private person, so I usually try not to pry.>"

(*The meaning conveyed by these words likely doesn't perfectly map to anything in the local language, but can be approximated 'a type of person similar to Sandy or Wrinkle respectively, with moderate variation in coloration, size, portions, etc., and with some additional implicit context regarding 'humans' and 'elves' generally coming from different places but having a non-zero amount of mixing between them.)