Oliver Thackery is a younger-looking man of sharp feature and a cold manner about him, starting from the ice-white shock of hair atop his head, continuing down to the harsh, unnatural blue glow emanating from his irises, both features marking him as one of the Twisted. His poise seems to suggest a complete and utter comfort with this fact, despite the stigma, and he makes no effort to hide who he is, though the set of his shoulders indicates someone with an indication towards violence when challenged by those who look down on him for it. The remainder of his features bely the hard stature of a career soldier, though now taken to an edge of softness from a return to civilian life. His hands seem as quick as ever, though, particularly when near the two dueling pistols sat tucked into his belt. From most of his features, he strikes, at first glance, the very figure of a hardened soldier, who has seen and done too much for a generation of lifetimes, save for his smile.

His smile is that of a mischievous young boy, who has seen things in the world that defy expectation. A near-constant grin that takes the hard-won physique and scars and turns it to that of a young hooligan, scuffed up from roughhousing with classmates – the type of youngster with an irreverence for life and a long history of unfortunate, but lucky, choices. His smile is contagious to the point where it almost distracts from the haunted look that almost comes from behind his eyes – a look that all men share, when faced with the knowledge of their own death.

A Sketch of Oliver Thackery is included in the front of his journal – it is drawn with some considerable skill considering the medium, and it is inconclusive whether the drawing is a self-portrait or an inclusion from another hand.