Sol rolled his shoulders, feeling the silver-gray plates of the Badger-hide armor shift with a fluid, silent precision. It was an engineering marvel, despite its density, it didn't hinder his range of motion. Instead, it felt like an added layer of muscle, a protective exoskeleton that hummed with a low-frequency vibration whenever he drew upon his core.
He could feel the Great Badger soul within him grow quiet, almost satisfied, as if the spirit recognized its own skin and found a new kind of peace within the familiar texture.
Teshar was still grumbling under his breath, adjusting his apron and casting suspicious glances toward the door, his heart likely still thudding from the phantom threat of Warchief Veylara. He looked like a man who had just been robbed of his most precious treasure, and every time Sol shifted or flexed his arms, Teshar winced as if the movement itself were a sacrilege against the hide.
