A well seasoned zailor with a strangely plant-like appearance. Very few of those who venture into the high wilderness as often and as long as Osha has made it home safely… or in a sound state of mind. When asked why or how they manage to always return when many do not, Osha normally smiles and says something along the lines of 'guess I'm just lucky'..

...

Even in a world as strange as fallen london, Osha's looks and mannerisms tend to leave an impression. Especially when a 'person' has been stalking the docks and far reaching camps of the world as long as Osha has. Rumors of the 'man' being a bad omen for a crew followed him long before Osha started associating themself with the devils the likes of Suacer... some say they gain sucess only from the downfall of other Zailors. Feeding their crewmates to the unfogiving gods of the vast abysss to keep their favor.

After all. Any good Zailor knows there's no such thing as 'luck' out in the realm of the sunless seas and starless skies.

Once upon a time there was a bright and upcoming scholar. Her name is lost to the ages, but she was there when London fell.. When the sun betrayed the world, when the gods showed themselves to be real. The Scholar was determined to restore humanity to its previous place, to concur the new world order and make the terrors descending upon her people run in fear.

Lost in single minded pursuit of knowledge and arrogance she ignored all warnings and delved too deep. Uncovering THE ROT. A god like being associated with death and the fungus that was already taking over large swathes of the sunless world. It had been sealed away to feaster and heal after a great battle with its nemesis and antisis god. Still weak and revealed back into the world before its time, THE ROT needed a host. She conveniently opened his tomb. Their destinies were now entwined.

The Scholar was no mere mortal though. She had found THE ROTS tomb against all odds, had conquered challenges beyond a normal mortal's boundaries. The Scholar's will was formidable, far more so than The Rot had bargained for. Instead of an easy new host who would do as told and go on to infect the realm, she resisted. Pulled back. Hid at the edges of humanity and fought tooth and nail to keep her identity.

What power the god had left was waning, meanwhile the identity of the mortal was slowly eaten away. In their battle for dominance of this vessel, both souls had worn thin. Until their were only scraps of one another left. That is when someone NEW formed. Osha. The remnants of two warring personalities, a stubborn arrogant scholar and a darkly humored godling of death, created the being that is Osha. A wandering zailor with a macabre sense of humor, a fondness for intellectual conversation, a loose sense of morality, and a fascination with watching the world turn. Waiting for... something. Or... someone?