Robert
`"𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴, 𝘩𝘶𝘩... 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘩𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵."` 

The guardian remarked. As the Rook grew closer to the pearl-clad guardian of gate, approaching in such proximity that the guardian had not before allowed him, he could briefly see beyond their visor in the moment that he encroached. Their lips remained in a neutral, if not a little furled position, and their lower face had a most pale color, with an oddly bluish-purple complexion beneath. While he could see no further than the bow of their lips, he could catch sight of what appeared to be a peculiar rawness'of a wound that trailed along the right half of their face — likely the reason for the lack of their right eye's glow.

Nonetheless, as the guardian replied, it shifted its grip on the obsidian quarterstaff, and again retrieved with a relative smooth swiftness the black cloth used to bind it, hooking it up and twirling it about the obsidian rod with one of its two blunt ends. The guardian again sheathed the weapon of murky enchantment, 'sheathing' it on its back, leaving both of its armored hands free again.
_ _
Charles
*Oh, I have one of those.* He thinks of the scar plaguing the guard's right eye – thankful that his is instead much lower down on his cheek, and indeed stretching across his now-prosthetic eye. Because of this brief train of thought, he reminisces about *How exactly he got it*, going back as far as seeing that flash of dark brown, before...

The Rook snaps back to reality, just in time to hear the knight's remark about how thick he is.

"I don't know what that means." He replies, regressing back to his usual unawareness that he used prior to this resolution. Make no mistake, The Rook is *Very* Stupid. "Wouldn't having thick skin like armor make it hard to move around?"

The Rook closes in on the guard and stops as they place their hand atop its surface, waiting in vain for it to move and feeling the pulse of energy rip through him as they speak. 

*This gate doesn't open.*

This statement leaves The Rook with a very silly mental question – if the gate doesn't move, how am I going to go through it?

*Oh.

Oh dear.*

It sets in that this energy is not entirely unfamiliar – he had felt its presence just recently. The presence that reeks only of teleportation, the single worst way to travel.

The Rook holds up a finger, "One minute. Let me prepare physically." Despite the guardian mentioning a city on the other side, they also mentioned the fact that there would be countless enemies praying for his downfall, of which would certainly be swift should The Rook grow ill upon re-manifesting. He takes a few deep breaths before stepping forward again towards the gate – stopping directly at the guardian's side, resolve renewed.

"Okay. I think I am ready now." He loosens up, ready for a potential onslaught of attacks; energy still retained in his boots should he need to make a getaway.
Maria
```diff
- "Shi- fuck- cr-" -
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Cumhall would have made a sarcastic remark about how this was going to be a bumpy ride or, buckle your seatbelt or, something, but he wasn't entirely sure the drone could comprehend a joke, and also he was plummeting from the top of a very high wall. Without a moment to consider his trajectory he activated the jump pack, reversing his momentum in a rather jarring way, he put up his right arm to protect his body and- ***BOOM*** Snow and rocks kicked into the air as he clipped the corner of the wall, he tried to reach out and grab onto something but his head was spinning and it wasn't long before he felt his momentum reverse again as he fell, crashing into the opposite corner and tumbling over the edge.

He reached his hand up to his helmet, or well more slapped the side of his head as he fought against the G Force, and pressed a button- turning on noise cancelling to mute the deafening sounds of rushing wind, he didn't have long to compose himself and so one again without looking which way he was headed he activated the jump pack to hopefully slow his fall, at the same time the thrusters on his arm opened up and fired to assist.

He collided with the ground finally, crashing against it multiple times like a good stone skip on the water, everything went white as his vision was clouded with snow, and he lay limp, breathing laboured breaths.
Louise
The drone had hardly time to comprehend what happened as it was flung from the wall, and then flung back *Towards* The wall, it was propelled from Cumhall's back like a catapult, flying much higher than him into the snow drift, it fired its thruster, stabilising itself and looking around, only to be met with nothing but white.
The harsh winds were making it unsteady, frost was beginning to build up and it was lost, it had no option but to return to the ground and scuttle along towards the gate in hopes it could find its way.
Robert
The two who made their way immediately to the wall now found themselves on the brink of crossing beyond it. 

For the Rook, as he made himself ready, the vast figure of the gate glew alight, and he felt the denseness of an almost divine arcane energy swallowing the surrounding atmosphere of the snowfield. The all-encompassing azure light shifted beyond the figure of the guardian — who held close to the gate, its hand still firmly placed against it — and engulfed the Rook, drowning the white haze of the windy snowfield in a flash of potent azure blue. 

`"𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘢."`

The guardian remarked with a slight wave. In the moment following, the Rook's senses shifted. His surroundings grew distant, as his body was transported on the winds of the deific blue light, *`whisking him away to a location quite distant, yet not entirely foreign...`*
Dorothy
For Cumhall, however, his crossing of the wall would go much more messily.

The Emissary's glare did not persist for long on the form of Cumhall as he fell, yet the sharpness of her frigid domain grew ever-sharper as he went against its tides, his momentum shifting to bring him back up and over the wall. Her attention honed on the intruder, and as Cumhall soared beyond, he again felt the sensation of a chill in his spine which overshadowed even that of the wintry blizzard. The arc of his trajectory skipped past what was almost arms-length to the terrifying Emissary bound to night, a harrowing brush with death piercing him to his very soul.

And yet, the Emissary would not intercept him.

Rather, he was allowed to soar beyond, descending beyond and into the white-and-silver veil of windswept snow, and the fog of frozen moisture that drifted along the tides of the winter wind. The sight of the wall and the Emissary stood atop it grew more and more distant, as sight of her figure grew all but entirely obscured in the flurry of colorless sensation — of blank shades; the winter palette blinded his eyes to that which was behind him, swallowing him whole in the embrace of the obscuring snow.

All that pierced the veil was two orbs of blue that seemed to encompass the very essence of the Full Moon—
*The Emissary's glare, peering down at him with clarity through the snow.*

Though he had succeeded, Cumhall had incurred something far less than favorable for his continued journey through the Second Floor: the Emissary's knowledge of his continued existence. There was no mistake to be made — she allowed him to travel beyond her, but what would become of him when they again crossed paths?

Only time would tell. He'd ought to watch his step.