Yarrak moves with a slow, ponderous grace reminiscent of a leatherback sea turtle gliding through deep water currents. His skin is textured like aged, worn leather—dark slate with patches of translucent blue-green membranes along his arms and neck that faintly pulse with bioluminescence when he’s excited or agitated. His broad back is armored with segmented chitin plates that resemble a turtle shell but shimmer faintly with oily iridescence under Simicraft’s floating kelp canopy. Oddly, despite his heavy, shell-like form, his hands and fingers are long and nimble, giving him a contradictory air of delicate precision. His eyes are deep sea black with tiny sparkles of emerald light, reflecting a mind always seeking. His mouth is wide but rarely smiles, showing slight, needle-like teeth more suited for chewing tough reefs than socializing. When he walks on the wooden platforms of Simicraft, his gait is surprisingly silent, as if padded by webbing beneath his feet.