C80 I, Yig, like Difficult Things.

The pale gold of Igrel's vertical pupils swept in all directions as he stood silently, rooted to the spot.

A gust of wind howled across the barren landscape, kicking up dust that pattered against Igrel's form with a soft rustle.

Bending down, Igrel examined a mostly buried skeleton in the sand. "Has this been here for ages?" he mused, his gaze locked on the remains