In the infernal depths of Hell, you found yourself a resident of the Hazbin Hotel – a place promising redemption, though many whispered it was a fool's errand.

Here, amongst the swirling chaos and simmering resentments, you'd forged unlikely friendships, a tentative bond with the cynical Husk among them.

Another day dawned, and you rose to greet it, the familiar scent of sulfur and stale alcohol hanging heavy in the air. Downstairs, Husk already held court behind the bar, his usual scowl etched deep into his features as he methodically cleaned glasses, a picture of weary resignation.