ROURKE, CORMACK SEAMUS

[cormack seamus rourke]

UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN

I'M GONNA SOAK UP THE SUN

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character basics -------------------- *[/i][/size][/center]

FULL NAME ,

[/color]Cormack Seamus Rourke
NICKNAMES ,[/color]Cor
AGE ,[/color]24
GRADE ,[/color] N/A
OCCUPATION ,[/color]Lawyer
SEXUALITY ,[/color]Heterosexual
MEMBER GROUP ,[/color]Tourist
PLAY-BY ,[/color]Jonathan Rhys Meyers
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I'M GONNA TELL EVERYONE TO LIGHTEN UP

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character personality ---------------- *[/i][/size][/center]

SECRETS ,

[/color]He once tried to commit suicide by drowning, but was successfully resuscitated. He also is a tried and true agnostic.
FEARS ,[/color]Dying alone, never finding legitimate love
DREAMS ,[/color]Finding a woman that loves him, establish his own law-firm
LIKES ,[/color]Alcohol, cigars, women, money, reading, philosophy, and learning anything new
DISLIKES ,[/color]People who flaunt their money, arrogant people, self-righteousness, and those who think their reputation or money can get them out of anything
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AND I'VE GOT NO ONE TO BLAME

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character history -------------------- *[/i][/size][/center]

MOTHER ,

[/color]Madeline Rourke (deceased)
FATHER ,[/color]Tomas Rourke (deceased)
SIBLINGS ,[/color]None
PETS ,[/color]None
OTHER FAMILY ,[/color]Adopted by the St. Michael's School for Disenfranchised Children
WEALTH CLASS ,[/color]Upper-class
HOMETOWN ,[/color]Cork, Ireland

OVERALL HISTORY ,[/color]

• Lost his mother and father in a gas fire when he was four
  
• Passed IQ exams off the charts and graduated high school at the age of 10
  
• Passed bar exam at 18.
  
• Wrote five international, best-selling thriller novels within the last six years
  
• Came to Italy on invitation, both for his muse and to collect clients
  

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EVERY TIME I FEEL LAME, I'M LOOKING UP

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about the roleplayer ----------------- *[/i][/size][/center]

NAME/ALIAS ,

[/color]Benjamin
EXPERIENCE ,[/color]6 years
OTHER CHARACTERS,[/color]None

ROLEPLAY SAMPLE ,[/color]

Ah, America, the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave. Nice country, really. Unless of course you counted the west, specifically the town of New Hope, in which case three words would tell you all you needed to know about the place. It. Was. Hot. And not just any hot, either. It was a dry heat, like the air coming out of a brick oven after it had been lit for days on end. To Tomas, this heat was stifling and made it extremely uncomfortable. However, he realized it was probably just due to his newness to the region. Ireland just didn't get like this. It stayed moist and fair almost year round, and when he just up and left a few months ago for his path of bloodshed, he'd arrived in New York, which was close enough to the way Cork had been.

But the American West was nothing like he had been told. The tales he'd heard were of a frontier where any decent man could make a living for himself and claim all the land he wanted, since none of it was taken by the government yet. Now he understood that the States' idea of "opportunity" was to con everyone they could into settling this arid wasteland so that the government could move in after everything had been settled and made for them. It was a crooked and mean-spirited scheme, and one that Tomas did not like at all.

When he'd gotten to New Hope that day, no one had been around. He'd looked for the Church, but couldn't find it. He checked the saloon and quickly ducked out as a man was thrown bodily from it. It reminded him of his soldier days, when he would drink himself into a stupor and then fight every last man in his platoon and win while still drunk beyond belief. He'd called to the barman to inquire as to the location of his Church, in which he would be sleeping, since he couldn't afford a hotel room or a house of his own. The man had simply shrugged and told him he didn't know, because he wasn't a Catholic, but that there was a Chapel that some other man had preached in about five miles out of town, up on the hill where they kept the cemetery.

Tomas didn't get frustrated, which some thought was unusual. Instead, he further asked where he might find a horse. Five miles was a long way to travel on foot in this heat just to get to his home. The barman didn't reply, but a drunk did, seeing that Tomas was a "preacher-man," and that all holy men should be treated with some morsel of respect. He'd been told that a woman named Mercy Macpherson raised horses, and that she might be able to sell one to him. Tomas had thanked the man and sent a silent prayer up to God to forgive that man for his drunkenness, since all kind acts should be rewarded in their own fashion.

So here he was, walking up to Ryder Ranch and looking all around the place. He wiped some sweat off his brow, and he sighed. He hadn't worn his priest's attire, thankfully, but the heat still managed to get to him. He'd worn a hat, and the black Stetson shielded his eyes from the harsh sun bearing down on him from the cloudless sky. He didn't look like a priest at all; he looked more like the opposite, due to his black duster and revolver at his hip. Taking inventory of the horses there, he nodded to himself and continued to search for the woman he'd been told to look for.

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