They'd answered with a collective, 'Yes mam'. 

"I am Nadene. For certain reasons, I do not have a last name to present to you. And I do not like to be addressed as Farseer, so you may address me as Ms. Nadene." She clapped. A ringing came from the gold loops around her risks. At the last of her three claps, she drew her hands apart, and a little red purse appeared in her grasp.

She went up to one of the young men and said.

"Please, place your hand in."

He nodded. The woman stood half a head taller, and it seemed to be getting him nervous. "Alright." He stuck a hand in. She then prompted him and he placed in the other.

"Think of gloves. Their design is up to you."

Grimacing, he pulled out both of them. They were now gloved in black leather. Brown stitching seamed it and made an initial across it's back. She went around the room, and just about everyone took a subtle color. Besides Charlene. Who had opted for a sky blue camouflage glove? Froyd had taken forest green, himself. The gloves fit perfectly. The padding on the inside made it feel like a luxury item. On the spot, he'd recognized their value to a martial artist and decided he'd do his best to keep them from ware. 

"Everyone listen up. The gloves are meant as detectors, they form a perfect couplet with the Maypoles I've left in the other world.  They are your only means of transportation to and from there. Please do not lose your lifeline." 

"Mr. Petterson, it's time we begin."

"Yes". 

They walked to the very center of the sigil. Froyd had been curious about it's activation. How long would they chant to transport so many individuals? He'd suspect it would take minutes, considering there were only two of them. He stared attentively. Then he saw something he'd never forget for his life. Something he'd never match himself. She'd only clapped twice. One second they were there, and the next gone. A large plain appeared.

Dying grass stretched as far as his eyes could see. The wind felt dry, like death, and smelt old, and rotten. His face turned ugly, as he choked. After some time, he calmed down and noticed the white staff beside him. It was about an inch wide, and about five feet long, sticking out of the ground. He tore it free and held it up. The staff vibrated, strongly, and nearly slid free as what felt like a magnet pulled it it to the edge of his grip. Froyd started his walk onward. The journey could take some time. The longest ever recorded had taken an entire three months. There had been special circumstances then, and Froyd had the expectation, that that person had probably turned down quite a few offers.

He'd wondered about this world as he walked. The air especially. It made breathing hard. A force, his psyche, stretched out to cover his skin. His psyche was his connection to the world's energy that composed the compound mana. Mana existed everywhere, but almost never composed of every element. Mana flowed and moved erratically. He'd found cool energy in that mana. Shrinking his psyche, he brought a small amount into his chest. Almost instant he felt the airflow towards him. What he had caught was the essence of oxygen. The material, the particles, would flow to the essence in all cases. 

Froyd simply couldn't trust the quality of air in this world. He didn't know the risk to his long-term health. The grass leaned towards the direction of the wind, the direction he himself was headed. This would aid him. He'd moved at an inhuman speed. The hours went slowly. The sky turning dark, with a cataract gray to a setting sun behind thin clouds. And finally, he'd found a village.