Haruyoko

Haruyoko’s carved cane looks like it was whittled by a patient grandparent, each notch a memory of a peaceful walk. They carry it through The Underworld with a friendly disposition that unnerves the local cultists more than any threat. They hum simple tunes under the ash-choked sky and offer dried fruit to shambling undead, their wide eyes taking in the horrors with a strange, almost innocent shock. Everyone who sees the ridiculous fish bait bobbing on their head assumes they are a lost fool, an easy meal. This is a fatal miscalculation. The cane is not for walking; it’s a perfectly balanced sheath for a blade forged in black-and-white flame, and Haruyoko has never been lost a day in their life.