Irineu remarks, gazing indifferently at the desecrated graves. The dead don't seem to be offended, so it can't be that much of an issue. Instead his attention is drawn to the things that had been discarded around.
"Unmarked graves for the hanged wouldn't have anything worth the trouble of robbing, and they don't even care about the few trinkets found? Intead littering their own stuff."
Irineu points his staff toward the nearest twig fetish. A small section of its shadow stretches before peeling away from the ground, coalescing into a floating spectral hand that reaches towards the nearest twig fetish to carry back for inspection.


