Handy was not fond of teleportation of whatever kind. Be it the hexes of the changelings that felt like being squeezed through a particularly fiery hose nozzle, their more ‘ordinary’ mage-assisted teleportation that felt like being hit everywhere on the body with a snowball simultaneously, the weird reality-shifting form of the warp shards that transported his armour despite its magic resistance, or the strange translocation that happened whenever he crossed certain thresholds in the abandoned city in the Greenwoods. Or hell, anything that happened in those damnable woods. Instantly transporting yourself from one place to another was all well and good, but it was immensely disconcerting and uncomfortable.