Nabiki

Every morning, before the crimson sky chokes on another layer of ash, Nabiki tends to the small green sprout on their head. The cultists and husks of The Underworld see it as a foolish sentiment, a weakness in an undead explorer. They see the bloodthirsty snarl and assume they know the whole story. But their master, Kuyuri, saw discipline where others saw only decay. Kuyuri taught them that bamboo, long since cut, still remembers how to bend without breaking. Nabiki now applies that lesson to themself, exploring the hostile wastes with a craftsman's precision, not a monster's rage. Their bamboo creations are more than tools; they are proof that something can be severed from its life source and still hold a powerful purpose.