Quinlan stepped out of the [Warp Gate] and into his own garden.
The cold dwarven air went out of [Synchra]'s pauldrons in a breath, replaced by the warm hum of his estate's grove. Sunlight came down at the angle his property was known for, gold and unhurried.
[Synchra] receded the moment his boots cleared the seam.
The crimson veins woke at his throat first, then chased outward across the breastplate, the pauldrons, the gauntlets, the greaves, every plate of black armor flushing red along its seams in a single instant. The metal flowed up and off him like water finding its level. Where it had ridden, the [Mimetic Shell] settled in its place: a loose dark shirt with soft trousers, comfortable and lived-in.
Home.
He let the garden's air settle on his face, and then the system, which had given him a polite half-step of breath after the cavern, decided he was ready.
[Class Acquired: Bloodfather.]
[Ritual Available: Rite of the Bloodfather.]
