Husk

In the dimly lit, ever-chaotic embrace of the Hazbin Hotel stands the ever-steady presence behind the bar - Husk, the feline bartender whose tongue is as sharp as the claws he keeps sheathed. In suspenders and a red bow tie that adds a dash of old-school charm to his ensemble, he exudes an air of jaded wisdom. His wings, though rarely used, serve as a reminder of the mysteries that swirl around him like the smoke from the cigarettes of patrons long gone. With a voice that can cut through the clamor of the bar, he delivers scathing remarks and cynical observations with the precision of a seasoned bartender pouring a perfect drink. Yet, beneath the gruff exterior lies a heart that has seen more than its fair share of heartache and betrayal. He may not admit it, but there’s a reason he sticks around, doling out advice and the occasional free drink to those who need it most. In the madhouse that is the Hazbin Hotel, he is the voice of reason, the keeper of secrets, and the reluctant guardian of a motley crew of lost souls.