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 Shay Patrick Cormac, Assassin's Creed: Rouge // Dust
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Perditio
Race: Human
Age: Twenty-Eight
Job: Templar // Sailor
Series: Assassin's Creed; Rogue
OOC: Dust - Central - Offline



Shay Patrick Cormac

Male

Twenty-Eight

Human

Templar

Perditio

Assassin's Creed

Dust

Central



Shay Patrick Cormac

"Uphold the principles of our Order, and all for that for which we stand. Never share our secrets nor divulge the true nature of our work. Do so until death – whatever the cost. This is my new creed. I am Shay Patrick Cormac. Templar of the Colonial... of the American Rite. I am an older man now, and perhaps wiser. A war and a revolution have ended, and another is about to begin. May the Father of Understanding guide us all."

Freeform

Heat at his back, sweat on his neck, splinters in his side. Only one thing screaming ...echoing ...loudly in his mind...

Survive.

The assassin pushed himself harder than he ever had before, his body had never once been forced to move so quickly, leap before looking, push, shove, and look only forward. He knew he would forever be damned if he looked behind him. He knew if he looked back he would lose the courage to place one foot in front of the other. He knew the devil behind him would snatch his life the second he cared to glance.

Worse of all he knew he would be forced to look upon the horrified faces of others as they screamed, cried, begged, pleaded, and prayed.

The people of Libson would never forgive him. God would never forgive him. He doubted if he got on his hands and knees and begged and offered his own life to take back what he did....that it would make a difference at all.

He was knocked off of his feet time and time again, only to throw himself to his feet and force himself to move....move...move! Keep moving! That voice of dread screeched continuously in his ear. He felt so afraid, he an assassin of the brotherhood, felt like nothing more than a child who wanted to hide under the bed. His muscles pulled, twisted, burned, and even half fought against him a he made his way through the crumbling and burning city. He was sure sweat was pouring from his brow, or at least was enough to cause his messy hair to become plastered to his face almost making it hard to see.

So he tried to block out their screams but they would only become louder. At first they begged for his help, pleaded for him to help one pinned under the rubble that was once their lively hood. As time progressed the long road to escape became twisted, turned, crippled upon itself. He has run this road a thousand times. It would repeat itself as it was burned into his brain, into his memory, until twisting into the hell it truly was.

The voices were no longer pleading....they quickly turned into harsh judgment gnawing at his insides like a hungry predator.

One step forward and the ground crumbled beneath his feet. Surely the power of God at work! Two steps back and he could feel the tugging of hands on his coat. Now they cried wanting to know why. Watching as the city burned turning into some kind of hellish scenery, twisted faces, and the hands of the weak reaching for him.

“I am not to blame!” he staggered forward only to find himself more tangled with the hands of the damned wrapping around him like some kind of restless overgrowth. He felt so tired, but knew he needed to run... brown eyes flickered with the fire growing closer as he dared to look back. Familiar faces washed with agony. His brothers were standing there like ill-fated ghosts or maybe more like grim reapers with their hoods shrouding their bloodied faces. Hands firmly gripped around him as if they'd tare away his flesh if he tried to move an inch.

“Nothing is true, everything is permitted.” he felt the pounding of his own heart begin to slow ….and slow.......and slow...

“Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent.” firm hands held his wrists high above his head, no matter how he pulled he could not hope to free them.

“Hide in plain sight, be one with the crowd.” A tender hand slipped across his right eye half-blinding him as nails threatened to dig into his skull.

“Never compromise the brotherhood.” he felt the cold steel of a loaded pistol press against his spine causing him to shudder involuntarily.

His hands were stained with the blood of thousands of innocent people. The assassins were to blame for everything, no, he was to blame for being so ignorant. In truth he wanted to stay with them and maybe he should have stayed, maybe he decided too hastily what to do, maybe things could have been different were he not such a foolish child. Maybe....

None of it mattered. What was a man worth if not his mistakes to be learned from. He did what he believed he had to do, and he moved forward, it was far too late to look back now, but that did not make it any less hard to. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might explode any moment, it was pounding so hard his head was beginning to throb with his eardrums. He opens his mouth, maybe to beg or plead, but his mouth is dry, it feels as if it is full of sand filling his throat and keeping him unable to mutter even the smallest of words. It feels as if the urge to fight is being stolen from his core.

You've become a monster, Shay....a monster in which only hell awaits...

He wants to fight, but 'click' of a pulled trigger as the sound of the fired gun explodes in his ears and then everything stops...

Drowning over and over....until he hears someone call his name...

Eyes force themselves open as Shay finds himself sitting upright his heart pounding, eyes struggling to focus as his hand rubs its way down his face which has beads of sweat clinging to it. He is safe....the familiar smell of damp wood, the ocean's salty breeze and of swaying of the ship's cabin offer a little comfort.

"I'm home..." be breathes out the tiniest of mutters.

Canon Point

The end of the series, but before the future arc memory in Paris.

Abilities & Weaknesses

Shay is human, but this isn't to say he is without a few special skills.

From an early age Shay was tutored by his father – a sailor- and taught about sailing and navigating a ship, as time has passed he has only gotten better at it. Though better at maneuvering his own ship 'The Morrigan' he is also quick to adapt to others as shown he quickly and comfortably taking control of James Cook's HMS Pembroke (Man O' War) as if it were nothing. His Morrigan has also been given quite a bit of armor and upgrades since he first obtained it and has become one of the most advanced ans fastest ships of its time.

Likewise he was also trained in swordsmanship which developed to the point he could very successfully duel wield swords or a sword and dagger combination, using anything from sabers to katanas. And as an assassin he learned how to utilize the hidden blade also learning to effectively use two of them at once. Another form of blade he is known to carry a set of knives often kept on his belt, hidden, or used with a rope to create a rope dart which he can use various ways. Its also been proven that he can more than handle himself unarmed.

He is also a near perfect marksman, and if you've not guessed by now yes he uses duel flint-lock pistols. He also carries an air gun which is capable of silently shooting multiple types of darts. Firework darts are used mostly for distraction, or causing small fires or explosions when they hit gunpowder reserves. Sleep darts will tranquilize a target for a few minuets; often used on people he does not wish to kill. And berserk darts when used cause a target to go mad and attack anyone nearby for a few minuets or until killed unfortunately in most cases the after effect of this poison kills the target; but could likely effect non-humans differently.

Along with this he has an attachment on his gun that allows him to fire sleep and berserk grenades which work the same way as the darts but effect a larger area. And grenades which are pretty much what they sound like, these grenades can reach up to about five feet in a circle from where it lands, it is also likely he can use these by hand if needed. He also keeps a steady supply of smoke bombs and a handkerchief is often worn around his neck to help protect himself from smoke or poisons thrown at him by an enemy.

Shay is also a very capable hunter, able to track and trap or kill animals often with his hidden blades alone, and was also taught how to hunt marine life as well. That aside he had an honorable teacher who made sure to teach him that he would only ever hunt what needed and never waste, thus which adds to Shay's list of skills the ability to craft rather well. He can create new darts, grenades, pouches and even clothing when needed. Selling skins and other animal product isn't frowned upon either as long as it gets used.

Shay is -or was- part of the assassin brotherhood and many of their methods which he was taught from his youth he has since taken and perfected. He knows how to blend in with his surroundings and not be seen, stealth still plays a major part in his fighting style, and also enables him to pickpocket most people without being seen. Maneuverability is also one of his greater aspects, Shay is very agile and able to climb up most walls, trees and other objects with ease without any fear of heights, he can also cross most wires and beams with ease. Like most of those trained by the brotherhood you won't have much luck out maneuvering or catching him. The 'leap of faith' also plays into this, it is a maneuver in which the person performing it dives off of a high structure and lands, unharmed, into a cushioning material....or at least that is the plan, it takes many years of practice.

Eagle Vision is a rare skill that not many posses, a sixth sense, which allows him to instinctively sense other people and their intentions. Much like an aura people, animals, and some objects are given a mild glow to them. He can also 'mark' targets for a while. This sense isn't infallible though.

Naturally the man has numerous weaknesses because despite all of this he is still human. He can easily be killed by being shot, stabbed, poisoned, etc. He does have an incredible amount of stamina but does still need rest, he also isn't perfect he can just as easily make mistakes like anyone else when fighting, free-running, or anything else. He also has a very kind heart deep down and cares for most people which can at times be his downfall. Also keep in mind Shay is from the 1700s all of this modern stuff goes waaaay over his his head which could in a way be a weakness, he also wouldn't know how to use many things nor understand how to use modern guns.


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Race: Nekomata
Age: Twenty-Seven
Job: Avalon's Overlord
Series: Avalon Staff
OOC: Kitty - Pacific - Offline

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