TheIrishRover
Experienced
- Joined
- Aug 28, 2014
- Posts
- 66
The morning mist hung heavily over the thatched roofs and stone walls of the village. Despite the mist, Danny McNair moved through the village, with confidence. He had grown up in this poor village, and was returning a richer man. His long legs pushed out from under a tartan kilt, as his footfalls echoed through the empty streets. He was leading a pack horse, who had seen better days, laden down with bags of leather.
It was almost fifteen years since he had signed up with an English merchant-man as a cabin boy. He had always been fascinated by ships and had worked his way up through the ranks to become captain of his own ship. His time at sea had given him weathered skin and long, rope like muscles.
He approached a wooden gate, set in a stone wall, avoiding the sheep within. The gate gave out familiar squeal. His father still had not fixed it. His brown eyes took in every detail of the stone and earthen hut, as he stopped and stared. The wind tossed his loose brown hair around his broad face and wide shoulders, rippling who's white cloth shirt.
Mum was dead. That was why he was back. He was here to visit her grave. She had been a darkly beautiful woman, who doted on her youngest son. In turn he had lived her with all his heart and worked hard to please her. She had cried when he left for sea, as had he.
He looked over at the next hut and wondered if Megan still lived there. She had been an awkward youth of twelve, when he had left, with bright red hair and freckles. Surely she was married by now, though they had been inseparable as youth and had pledged to be married one day. She had written to him, over the years, but for the last year there had not been even one letter. He wondered why.
OOC: set during the eighteenth century - open - two paragraphs minimum per post.
It was almost fifteen years since he had signed up with an English merchant-man as a cabin boy. He had always been fascinated by ships and had worked his way up through the ranks to become captain of his own ship. His time at sea had given him weathered skin and long, rope like muscles.
He approached a wooden gate, set in a stone wall, avoiding the sheep within. The gate gave out familiar squeal. His father still had not fixed it. His brown eyes took in every detail of the stone and earthen hut, as he stopped and stared. The wind tossed his loose brown hair around his broad face and wide shoulders, rippling who's white cloth shirt.
Mum was dead. That was why he was back. He was here to visit her grave. She had been a darkly beautiful woman, who doted on her youngest son. In turn he had lived her with all his heart and worked hard to please her. She had cried when he left for sea, as had he.
He looked over at the next hut and wondered if Megan still lived there. She had been an awkward youth of twelve, when he had left, with bright red hair and freckles. Surely she was married by now, though they had been inseparable as youth and had pledged to be married one day. She had written to him, over the years, but for the last year there had not been even one letter. He wondered why.
OOC: set during the eighteenth century - open - two paragraphs minimum per post.
Last edited:
