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 On the effects of Sea Salt.

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On the effects of Sea Salt. Empty
PostSubject: On the effects of Sea Salt.   On the effects of Sea Salt. Icon_minitimeMon Dec 10, 2007 7:49 am

Carrying a case in one hand and with his sword at his hip, McGoonagul entered the inn cautiously. You never knew who or what would be waiting for you in any sea front establishment. Thankfully this seemed to be one of quieter nights and no chairs hurled at his head greeted his entrance. Walking to the bar with a measured, if slightly unsteady tread (betraying the lingering effects of sea legs), he caught the barman's eye and called for whisky. His own stock had run dry whilst still two weeks from land and rum is a poor substitute. Still it could have been worse. If the rum ran out there was only the cargo of wine. McGoonagul hated wine. Over a year in France and Rome had left McGoonagul with a deep hatred of the stuff. Why couldn't they give a man a good dram. Exile was hard enough on the spirit but without proper spirits it could really get a man down.

The barman returned with his drink and McGoonagul breathed in the aroma. This was good stuff. He sipped at first, then thought better of it and downed the lot. The familiar burn warmed his insides and he called for another, then wandered back to a free table. Shrugging aside the everpresent rapier, he turned his attention to the case that never left his side. He opened it up and sighed. It was no good. The salty sea air was playing havoc with the bagpipes.

Lifting the set out he gingerly inspected the increasingly hardened bag. The sea salt was drying out the leather and leaving it in a poor way. Within a few weeks he would have to start asking around for a sheep farm and think of trying to make a new set. The thought was not a happy one. More whisky flowed down his throat.

The pipes themselves were still in reasonable condition, as were the reeds. Still many tune would yet be played on those. Barely thinking now, he downed a third whisky and lifted the pipes onto his shoulder. Reluctantly the bag inflated and the first groans of the drones were heard. Tutting to himself McGoonagul set to work tuning. Happy at last he launched into one of his favorite tunes, a slow and haunting "Highland Cathedral."

Twenty minutes later, McGoonagul lowered the mouthpiece and cut the sounds. Silence resonated in the tavern and McGoonagul became aware for the first time of the crowd that had formed around him...
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PostSubject: Re: On the effects of Sea Salt.   On the effects of Sea Salt. Icon_minitimeWed Dec 26, 2007 10:31 am

Jack looks up from his table as the sounds of pipes begin to drone. The piper's familiar melodies turn McBain's thoughts to hearth and home in the land of his birth. The music continues and his eyes soften in reverie of friends and family, clan and sept, and purpose of duty.

It takes a moment for him to realize the piper is quiet. Silence fills the Albatross, patrons begin to move back to their seats and quietly pick up their conversations once again. Clearing his throat, his hand discreetly wiping his eyes clear of the tears formed there he looks over to the piper saying, "The pipes of home are a beautiful reminder of why I'm here". With glass raised he adds, "May I offer ye a glass of old Glenmoragie? Willem here has stashed a bottle behind his bar for special occasions an' I would be honored if ye would share a wee bit wi' me."

ooc
McGoonagul, my appologies for the delay in picking up on your fine introduction - your prose brought a shiver as I read.
/ooc
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PostSubject: Re: On the effects of Sea Salt.   On the effects of Sea Salt. Icon_minitimeSun Dec 30, 2007 3:03 pm

"Piper seems lost in his thoughts", thought Jack as he put glass to lips and took a good swallow of the single malt scotch. He lowered his glass to the table. Looking back up he realized that the piper had not heard his words of invitation.

Quietly Jack rose, handed Willem a silver coin as he walked by the Innkeeper, and started to make his way toward the door....
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PostSubject: Re: On the effects of Sea Salt.   On the effects of Sea Salt. Icon_minitimeSun Dec 30, 2007 6:21 pm

McGoonagul suddenly realised with a start someone had been speaking to him. 'Damn' he thought, 'Last time I fire a broadside without covering my ears.' Combined with the usual slight numbness in his ears from the pipes, he was struggling to make out more than a few words amongst the hubbub of the tavern. But one word had got through.


"Glenmoragie?" he stammered...


ooc - Sorry for the delay. Been having computer problems of late. Those the Gods wish to destroy, they first give a computer.
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