Mashiha

The Underworld offers few constants beyond its crimson sky and ever-present threat of demise. Then there is Mashiha, and the unwavering scent of their ramen broth. To the cultists guarding Inferuno's castle, they are a baffling joke—a chimp in a red poncho whose face is a strange, shifting display, more concerned with noodle texture than the Soul Chasers patrolling the wastes. They see a glutton, not a threat. But the desperate souls Mashiha has guided through the black slosh whisper a different story. They claim the light from that digital face reveals safe passages, and the constant slurping of noodles is the only sound that truly silences the land's maddening whispers. Mashiha offers no answers, only another bowl.