Game of /Pokémon/ [OOC+SU]

Human
Full Name: Olivier "Ollie" Drift
Age: 16
Allegiance: Kingdom of Dragons
Position: Servant/Assassin
Appearance:

Appearance is not everything.

Ollie has a normally guileless face, as though butter would not melt in his mouth, pardon the expression. He is small, with large green eyes and golden-brown hair. Typically, his hair is kept long for the winter, tied in a ponytail when it gets cumbersome. He never lets out a noise of complaint of course. His skin is markedly pale where it could be dark, barring the red scars on the tops of his hands and the odd colors at the pads of his fingers. Unlike most, he prefers not to hide them, seeing obscuration as an insult to death itself.

Despite his small build, he is fast, slender, and effective at what he does. He has been hurt before, of course. It would be impossible to live his life and not be touched by it. But that's what makes everything that much more exciting. The scars on his body, particularly the claw of an Ursaring that made its jagged mark on the top of his head, are reminders of his duty and, just like the deep red tattoo of a dragon's wings on his back, they are his pride.

Ollie dresses with modesty and practicality. He does live in the City after all, but is a recluse in most aspects. A long pale tunic covers his arms and torso, while then covered by a sleeveless pale violet fur coat, the sigil of their kingdom sewed where the hood hangs most of the time. The inside is lined with Altaria down at the hood, a rather risky win of his. His trousers are thick and black, reaching down to his ankles. This is for the sake of appearing mostly ordinary despite thick black boots that typically cover his feet.

This boy does not always look like this. He is an assassin after all. He can become quite a few people for his stature, a little girl, an old man, even a knight. It all depends on how you carry yourself. Mostly, Ollie carries himself as a servant. Hence why he appears to naturally be forgotten. The only feature of his that is uncommon are the blue earrings set into his earlobes, one of his only measures of pride. Those are twined with th

Ollie has two fighting styles, but the one he prefers is the use of his butterfly knives, a quick death if properly aimed, as was his custom. But if a long fight came into existence, he would resort to using his hook swords. After all, Vivio would watch his back. He's quite a little terror with the things. The butterfly knives remain in the holders on his arms under his tunic. However he openly displays his swords on his back when he has to, almost as a challenge. Yet Ollie would rarely challenge anyone. It does make him look like a mercenary. A very odd mercenary with a lyre in his hand at some points in time.

History:

Ollie is not a native to this Kingdom. He was originally born in the Kingdom of the Skies, doomed to the masonry or the religious order of the mountains he was meant to call home. However, that simply did not occur. At birth, he was given away, one mouth too many to feed, to a stranger passing through. One would believe a parent would at least think twice before giving their child away. However, they were not a pair who could afford to examine every man or woman who walked past their home. They had two children and that was enough.

So Olivier was taken away by this mysterious man, a man who the boy would refer to eventually as Drydan, a man who was a nearly invisible advisor to the King. When Lance would desire something dark to be done, Drydan would always answer. He would never be called father, and the word mother would be as foreign to his normal vocabulary as disobedience. He would grow up in a place where he was taught the truth of his own existence. He was born from Death. Oh, Death had many names, as many as the stars in the sky and the religions that warn of him, but Death was the simplest way to think of him and simplicity was the proper way to honor him, simplicity and the carrying out of his will. That was what he was told, and he stuck to such a teaching, being only a toddler when told of it. There was no reason to disagree. After all, the spirits remained in this world, always humming their songs. Drydan always called it a curse, a witchcraft that dishonored death. He doubted they were even spirits. But the world was full of ghosts, and ghost types. It was no small stretch to hear them.

Since that small age he was taught to protect himself, his little hands learning a fist as well as how to hold a quill. He fought in situations where he was outclassed and ones where he needed to bear with poison. He learned all of these things in the hidden pockets of the kingdom, eventually at an older age, reaching the kingdom to be placed as a mere servant among the ranks. He was very little then, perhaps nine, but the duties served him well, as he had to keep his ears open, as a servant of the Father must do, always. Being small, he didn't grasp the importance of serving the royal family, as the other Children of Death must have, but he continued to do so, and to do so with his own, quiet pride.

He had no friends during this. The children were meant to keep to themselves. Elsewise, they would gain the possibility of betraying their Father for the happiness of each other. There was nothing wrong with this, as far as he was concerned. He had to work, and work he did.

His first kill was at the age of ten.

Olivier was never able to grasp why it was the Kingdom of Dragons they remained in,when there were those who should die all over their feeble lands. On that day, however, he grasped it, at least in some small way. His hands were dipped in a deadly plant, and off the child went to complete his task. Ollie remembers it very clearly, the disguise of a simple village girl, the other woman's haughty eyes that did not see the swirl at the back of her ear, the way his fingers touched delicately at the other's skin, and moments later, the poison being ingested with the simple licking of food from her lips. Of course, the one miscount was the man laying with her falling ill as well, but it was anticipated, and for all Olivier knew that death was meant to be, so he never troubled himself with it.

Following that day, he was taken to receive his own Pokemon. It was an unusual creature, one who preferred to be underfoot, as he did. Most people did not choose this one, but he selected Vivio after only a few moment, finding that her own... curiosity and quick thinking, made up for her current slowness. Besides, a creature who could bite as hard as that, how could he refuse?

It almost made up for the fact that he had to learn swordplay.

Up until his current days, that was how he lived. Learning, putting into practice with an assignment, and silently watching the Kingdom live on. He had watched the Crown Prince and wondered, if for a moment, he could explain to him that his mother was here,within the ghosts, within the prince himself. However, that would be a crime. He was not given the right to do such a thing, and it would dishonor death to pretend as though he did.

So he served the kingdom, with loyalty, in secret, and in patience. The King would never know of his deeds, not in person, and he would not disgrace his teacher by speaking up.

However, it seemed Drydan had done so for him.

Pokémon Partner
Species: Vibrava (Vivio)
Appearance:

Vivio is a Vibrava, a slightly runty Vibrava, but a Vibrava nevertheless. She has odd, silver eyes that have a tendency of rooting her out. However, Ollie loves them nevertheless, despite their unintentional appearance during evolution. Her rhombus shaped wings and tail are also silver and tend to look like they are always using Silver Wind, a move she cannot know. She can't wear any armor, because the waves that generate from her wings would break it. Other than that, she is no more different from your everyday dragonfly looking Pokemon.

Estimated Level: 37