A chef who only occasionally sets things on fire.
Likes: Bizarre spices, bread in any creative cooking medium, traveling, sweet fruits, buttery-tasting nuts, pastries with cinnamon, milk in the afternoons, cats (he really, really likes cats), reading, music (with dancing, preferably), red and maroon, sleeping in, loose-fitting clothing, sterling silver, having a cigarette every now and again, and warm days on deck with little to do.
Dislikes: Sweating profusely, the color orange, still water sitting out for too long, being woken up for any reason at all, the current trend of bastardizing cooking, being rushed, speeches and lectures, pretention, ignorance, and serious people.
Quirks: His face is highly expressive; when he smiles, he smiles undyingly, when he frowns it runs deeply down his face, he blushes at the slightest provocation, and laughs hard at nearly anything remotely humorous. His eyes are wide, and at any given moment, it looks like he could burst out laughing or just as easily collapse into tears.
Fears: Falling over the side, becoming lost in the clouds, large dogs, and pirates. He also is intensely concerned about the current situation with food and the population. He is terrified it will get to the point where people are starving.
Personality description: Oliver is an odd duck. He is awkward, but always well meaning. His brain functions do not seem wholly normal, like a wayward puzzle piece left behind, while the rest of him is perfectly put together. He can be quick with wit, and willing to throw in his two cents in about philosophy, but he never seems to say an ill word about anyone. Oliver privies himself to everyone he meets; he is always willing to help. It is hard to find a person he did not immediately like. Because he promotes the positive side of himself, many people think he is shallow, although that is a misconception.
Fighting ability:
Melee: 4
Range: 5
Machinery: 2
Weapons: One personal flintlock pistol, any nearby cooking knife.
Clothing/Armor: Loose maroon shirts, leather shoes, black breeches. He has one military jacket he bought a pawn shop that he will wear on cold mornings.
Tools: An old black pot for flavorful soup, a collection of knives, (and if these count) a handwritten cookbook at could easily be used as an anchor.
Background: Oliver was born Oxford Wilbur East to a military family in a Nobel district. He was raised to believe the biases of his family, though he was always reluctant to believe it. At fourteen he entered into military study, keeping his protests behind a buttoned lip. When he was fifteen pirates intercepted him on a sky ship and held him for ransom. No ransom came, and so when Oliver escaped by a happenstance of luck, he felt no reason to return home. He changed his name and buried his formal self deep inside. Cooking came to him quite easily, and he has been drifting between kitchen jobs since then. Since he is still considered a missing person, Oliver will not reveal his roots. If anyone asks, he is the son of a simple merchant. Since Oliver is a terrible lair, sticking to his story has raised questions before.