Osa Bell is a broad-shouldered half-orc woman whose presence seems to arrive a heartbeat before the rest of her. She stands with her weight slightly forward, as if every floorboard is a deck pitching beneath her boots. Her hands are the first thing most people notice, thick-knuckled and permanently roughened by rope burn, tar, salt, and splintered crate wood. The nails of her left hand are stained dark from years of caulking work. Her lower tusks are filed flat, not for beauty but so she can bite through waxed cord without cutting her gums. She moves with startling care for someone so large, placing each step quietly and testing loose boards with the ball of her foot. The contradiction is disarming: her arms look built to break a mast, but she handles cups, ledgers, and frightened animals with exquisite gentleness.